Disclaimer: I don't own them, Kurt Sutter and FX do. Please don't sue me.
Author note: Reviews are good. Really, they make me grin like an idiot. I won't say they'll make me write faster cuz that'd be blackmail. I think I fixed the smooshyness and got the section breaks in. Might be a bit easier to read now.
"He's fine Gemma." Tig spoke through clenched teeth. His face was pale and drawn, large beads of sweat running down his unshaven jaw. "Got a knock on the head, that's all." Chibs jerked his head in agreement, waving a bloodstained hand towards the door to the Chapel.
"And you?" Tig was laid out on one of the tables, his cut and shirt in a bloody pile on the floor. There was more blood running from a hole just below his ribs. "Jesus Tigger."
"Bullet was a through and through, bleedin's slowin' down." Chibs tossed back a drink from a bottle of whiskey and passed it to the older man. "I've got him until Tara gets here."
"I'm fine Gem." Tig's smile was strained and she could already see the bruises forming against his sallow skin. "I had it under control till the son of a bitch pulled a gun." He guttered a groan as the Scotsman pressed a bandage hard into his side. "Jesus Christ!"
"Quit your whinin', I'm tryin' to keep your insides where they belong. Take a drink and shut it." Gemma stepped closer to the table, indecision freezing her steps as she watch Tig pull the bottle to his lips and swallow quickly.
"Go doll, make sure he's okay for me. I'm good." Tig easily picked the worry off her face and waved his bloodied hands. After draining the bottle he let his head loll, his skull pressing hard into the wood as he watched her walk quickly towards the closed door. "Chibs?"
"I don't know Brother. We need Tara, probably a hospital. There's a lot of blood." He pressed harder against Tig's side, drawing a grunted moan from the other man's chest.
"I need booze. Lots of booze and narcotics." Tig thrashed suddenly, his booted feet slamming hard against the surface that he was stretched out on. "Juice!"
"Baby." Gemma ran both hands into Clay's cheeks, her fingernails tipping gently into his skin as she examined the purplish welt that was rising against one temple. "You okay?" Without waiting for an answer she crawled into his lap, carefully sliding against his denim clad thighs and cuddling into his chest.
"Fine." Clay wrapped his arms around her, tugging her back tighter than usual. His swollen hands ran her hair, tucking it back off her face. "I told 'em they didn't need to call you."
"Fuck that." She said. Her lipstick added to the color rising across the warm flesh as she kissed the swelling bruise. "You don't hide shit like this from me."
"Tig?" Clay was suddenly aware of the tacky wetness the other man's blood had left on the cuffs of his shirt.
"Chibs has got him." Gemma answered quickly, her fingers soothing the lines of worry on his forehead. "Tara's on the way."
"Good. I'm gonna need Jax and the others to ride up to Tacoma with me." Clay leaned forward, burying his head in her hair. His breath warmed her skin as he sighed and drew comfort. "Tigger took a bullet that was meant for my goddamn head. That gets answered for."
"Fuckin' sadist." Tig drew a hard pull off the joint that Juice was holding out for him. His face had paled even more, a brittled white against usually tanned skin. Each scruffed hair that lined his jaw seemed a deeper black.
"No pills period. They'll slow your heart down, put you in shock." Chibs snapped. The pile of reddened bandages at his feet had grown and worry was staring to pinch against his dark eyes.
"Fuckin' thing's beating out of my goddamn chest anyway." Marijuana smoke drifted as the older man released a barely held breath. Chibs pressed harder into dusky skin as Tig strangled on a cough, the jerk of his body sending convulsive pain through his torso. "Knock me the fuck out!"
"D'ya want me to hit him?" Juice's eyes were wide as he glanced between the two other Sons. "I could, ya know, hit him and—"
"Did your mother have any children that lived?" Chibs asked. "For fuck's sake—" Tig coughed again, laughter rushing his throat as he let his eyes roll closed. There was a slippery puddle of blood spreading underneath him and he could feel it soaking into his jeans but the discomfort of that was far away. The burning in his stomach was worse, the liquid churning of something not right made his heart pump hard with fear. Fading in and out of consciousness he ignored the now droning conversation between Chibs and Juice, focusing instead on internal clamor and the sinking feeling that he was going to bleed out on a clubhouse table with a drunken Scot and a retarded Puerto Rican arguing over his body.
"We'll be fine my love." Clay hugged Gemma once more, kissing her hard before sliding one leg over his bike. "I'll call you from Tacoma." She glared at him, her body tight and disapproving as she moved to one side, stepping out of the way of the line of bikes.
"Watch your goddamn ass, Clay." Bikes started all around her, the other members butting out cigarettes and putting on helmets as Clay settled into his saddle. "I mean it." She crossed her arms tight, hugging herself in the cooling air as he worked his hands quickly to loosen the joins before snapping his own helmet straps.
"I'll call you sometime tonight. Watch Tig for me." He pursed his lips and she Gemma leaned in for one last kiss, his beard rasping against her skin. "I love you." He twisted the throttle and let the engine idle higher, sharing a long look with Gemma before he led the other bikes out of the clubhouse parking lot in formation.
"I love you too." Gemma watched him turn the corner before striding back towards the clubhouse.
"This room is…disgusting. God knows the last time it's been cleaned." Tara glanced quickly around Tig's dorm room, her eyes lingering on the rumpled and obviously dirty black silk sheets bundled at the end of his bed. "He'd be better off staying on the table." Gemma rolled her eyes at the other woman's tone, not seeing anything other than normal guy shit. There were empty liquor bottles and piles of dirty clothing littering the floor but all the garbage seemed to have made it to the trash can and the air smelled more like incense than pussy.
"At least the sex toys are in the closet." She quipped. The younger woman didn't even smile. Tara glanced again at the bed, this time noting the handcuffs that were wrapped around both posts of the footboard.
"I don't even want to think about him having sex Gemma. Ever." She moved farther into the room. Gemma leaned in the doorway smirking at the look of distaste that creased the smooth skin of the other woman's face.
"You're not going to find any corpses under the bed Tara. Clay made him promise after the mess the last one made." Tara's eyes widened and she quickly stepped back moving past Gemma and into the hall. "Jesus Tara, I'm kidding." Gemma laughed. "We'll take him to the house. That way I can keep an eye on him…feed him the pills." Tara breathed half a sigh of relief and closed the dorm room door quickly.
"He did what?" Tig grabbed his side as he spoke, his voice topping out into a slight head voice. "Stupid fucking—"
"Get out of that bed and I'll shoot you myself." Gemma turned away from the window, letting the shade cords dangle as she shot him a steely look. Sighing he relaxed back into the bed, his fingers white against his bandaged stomach. "Good boy."
"I should be there." Rolling his head harder into the pillow he blew out a breath of irritation. "Someone needs to watch his ass."
"He's got the club with him Tigger. You took your bullet for this month." She settled into the side of the bed, one hand tagging back his sweat stroked hair. "Thank you." When he tipped his head up into her hands she stroked her cool fingers across his forehead. Her forehead crinkled at the heat that was baking from his skin. "Tara's bringing some antibiotics after her shift."
"S'okay. I'm good, doll." The sheet beneath him was damp with sweat but he couldn't find the energy to shift against it but the coolness of her hand was heaven. Tig let everything in him relax, giving himself up to her comfort for a second before opening his eyes and pushing himself up against a pillows. Unaccustomed weakness ran his limbs and there was a nagging disconnect in his head, movement threatening unconsciousness. "I should be in Tacoma."
"Well that's not gonna happen baby." Gemma skimmed the sweat away from his forehead before standing. "Get some sleep." She adjusted the blankets that were pulled high on his chest and moved towards the door.
"I should at least be at the clubhouse." But he was already adjusting himself against the pillows, one hand clamped to his side. Gemma didn't even spare him a look.
"Shut up Tigger."