My first Sons of Anarchy! So, this is going to be a long list of one-shots, some connecting, and some not. I'm gonna say right now; for the most part it will be Chibs/Juice centric, either just friendship or slash. Just as a warning. But there'll be a considerable number of the members of the club thrown in also.

I don't know how often I'll update. Could be a couple times a week, could be once every couple of weeks. But considering how badly SOA has me hooked, I'm convinced it will be more often than not.

Some are more like drabbles and some are already wannabe full-length stories—nearing ten thousand words. We'll start off with a shorter one. I have no beta-reader, so all mistakes are my own. And any prompts for chapters, I'll gladly take into consideration.

Well, I hope you enjoy, and leave a review if you really want to. I'd sure appreciate it if you did. Just a suggestion.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me, nor does Sons of Anarchy.

"Hey, Juicy boy!"

Juice swore, shoving his cell in his jeans pocket. He turned quickly and folded his arms, shoving his shaking hands in his armpits. Juice cocked his head and tried his best to look curious, pasting on an equally dopey grin at Chibs.

The other man didn't look convinced—not completely. He looked a bit concerned as he had most of the time Juice had been around him lately. Juice relaxed his shoulders, resisting the urge to swallow as thickly as he wanted to. Chibs would notice. Chibs always noticed. Except when it mattered.

Chibs laid a hand on Juice's shoulder, the warmth seeping through his cut and made Juice feel marginally more relaxed, even as he felt his stomach tighten. "Alright, there?"

"Yeah," Juice nodded, making himself frown in confusion. He jerked his chin towards the other bikes riding in to Teller-Morrow's. "What's with that?"

Chibs didn't look away immediately, instead stood there gazing at him. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, so Juice could see his worried and disappointed eyes directly. Juice's gut twisted, but he didn't fidget and he didn't swallow. He kept his expression curious, and hoped as much as he dreaded that Chibs would move his hand.

Finally, Chibs turned his head to look behind them, watching as Alvarez climbed off his bike, walking forward to shake hands with Clay. "We're heading up to the warehouse."

Juice's breath caught, and his mind whirled franticly, thinking of that fucking brick hidden in the brush. He had to get it out of there. They'd notice. Maybe he could ride up there sooner—

But no. 'Cause now Jax was gesturing and calling for them to all head out, and Juice could feel the slick ball of dread at the bottom of his stomach.

"Juice," Chibs' voice was soft, and his eyes whipped up to meet the other man's blue ones, even as he wiped his face from anything he was feeling. "Everything okay?"

Juice blinked and nodded, smiling even as he screamed on the inside, desperate to just get out of there, and hating himself for making Chibs look like that when Juice didn't deserve his concern. The last thing he deserved was Chibs, and Chibs' concern.

"Yeah. Let's go on up then."

Juice saw something creep into the other man's eyes that he couldn't identify, but it made him feel uneasy. "Yeah, let's go on." He urged Juice forward, and much to Juice's consternation and pleasure, he didn't drop his hand, instead winding it around Juice's shoulders as he let himself be led to their bikes.

Juice let himself lean into Chibs slightly, feeling overwhelmed and conflicted. He swallowed, and glanced up slightly at Chibs. The other man was looking forward, his brow furrowed slightly. Juice saw his lips purse, and he reached up to slide his sunglasses down his nose, covering his gaze from Juice's view. Juice frowned, and he felt Chibs' arm tighten around his shoulder, pulling him closer to the other man.

Chibs' arm moved away finally, and the other man walked away to talk quietly with Bobby, casting Juice a glance every now and then. Juice lifted his helmet, taking as long as possible, thinking that maybe if he were the last one, falling behind just a little, he could think of a way to cover up the brick.

That plan went down the drain as Chibs walked over to his own bike, and started it. He tilted his head in question and swept an arm out for Juice to go on ahead.

Juice swallowed down a sigh, climbing on his own bike and pulling in front of Chibs. He felt trepidation creep in his veins, leaving him jittery and anxious as he had been lately. He heard Chibs come up behind him on his own bike, and Juice bit his lip, tightening his grip, feeling guilt claw at him.

He shook his head, clearing it, pushing it away. Don't think about it, he told himself. Don't think about it, don't think about anything and you'll be fine. Focus on the brick. Don't think of parentage. Don't think of the club. Don't think of Chibs. Don't think of Roosevelt. Just focus on now. Just now.

He did as he told himself, pulling his walls around him and blocking off everything he so desperately wanted to feel—he'd push that away for later when he lie awake, staring at his ceiling and the self-loathing coating his throat as every fiber in his being taunted him for being a coward and a traitor.

But for now, he wouldn't feel anything. He wouldn't think about anything but getting that brick back to where it needed to be. Chibs pulled up beside him, and from the corner of his eye, Juice could see the other man's face turned toward him. Juice didn't look back.

They drove up to the warehouse, and Juice's only relief was that things couldn't possibly get any worse than they already were.