Beginning Notes: This is just a bored little drabble I did because it's been rotting in my to do list for ages.


Elevators, Spaghetti Straps, and Latches - oh my!

The Club had been on Lockdown quite a bit recently, so Half-Sack and Juice had been assigned the duty of following the President's old lady around all day. It'd originally been Tig's job, but after a mix-up out at the warehouse, he was pulled as backup and they were put on duty.

Not that either male minded - they'd had many a late night chat about the infamous Gemma Teller-Morrow, and being so close to her was like a gift delivered by God himself. It wasn't too big of a secret that both Juice and Half-Sack shared a bit of a crush on the older woman - the only ones that didn't know were Clay and Jax - but who wouldn't crush on her? She was everything a man could want in an old lady - kind, strong-hearted, strong-willed, funnier than the law can allow, motherly, knew when to mind her own business, and loyal as hell. Not to mention that she was sexy as all get out - from those five inch heels up to her blonde streaked hair.

Each boy might've thought they were in a little in love with her, although they knew it would always be unrequited.

They were just getting in the elevator after dropping off Abel with Tara - she'd take him home for the night, but Gemma had been watching the infant for most of the day - when the lovely incident began. Gemma turns to look at either at them as they cross the threshold of the elevator.

"You both have been so good today," she praises warmly, as each man shuffles in beside her. The elevator doesn't have very much space, and their shoulders press against the woman's body. Both men shiver in delight. "Why don't we stop at the diner? My treat."

"Oh Miss Gemma, you really don't have to-"

"-yeah I can't accept that-"

Both Juice and Half-Sack trip over themselves to decline the offer as politely as possible. They wouldn't mind stopping for a bite of course - they were starving, not to mention any extra time with her would be cherished greatly. But letting her pay would be rude, and ungentlemanly. It's not just that they want to impress her either - both men were raised to treat a lady properly, and Gemma was certainly a lady that deserved to be treated proper.

"Oh hush," Gemma grins, rolling her eyes and jamming the button for the first floor. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and shrugs. "Least I can do for my big bad protectors. It's nothing. 'Sides - Clay's the one actually paying for it anyway."

She laughs, and both guys join her in her laughter. But their merriment is cut short when the elevator gives a sharp jolt and comes to a halting stop. They're all thrown off their feet, but Gemma particularly - standing in those high heels of hers unsteadies her more than their grip boots unsteadies them. For a second, it look like she might hit her head on the elevator railing. But at the last minute, Half-Sack catches her by the waist and rights her - still holding onto her deathlike until the elevator gives a final jolt and they're plunged in silence and darkness.

"Thank you, Eddie," Gemma says, kissing his cheek and pinching it when he reluctantly releases her waist. He blushes and rubs his cheek after, and when he glances to his partner, Juice is almost green with envy. "Now what the hell happened to this damn elevator?"

Both of them watch as she viciously hits the door open button, but the doors remain jarred shut. Juice moves over to hold onto the alarm bell - he remembers vaguely when he used to be an electrician that the alarm bell was supposed to work in case of a power outage - but a wire must've wriggled loose when the elevator slipped.

"I believe the power is out. That isn't going to work. None of it is," Half-Sack harrumphs, crossing his arms across his chest and observing the elevator buttons. "We're stuck."

"No shit Sherlock," Gemma hisses, kicking the elevator angrily with her boot. She winces at the forces, before pressing her back against the railing. Her perfectly manicured nails tap against the rail, and her boots tap against the floor. After just several minutes, she gives a groan of annoyance that sounds strangely close to something sexual and makes both Juice's and Half-Sack's pants tighten. "Bullshit! Fucking-"

"Miss Gemma, I don't mean to be rude but we can't get upset. It'll knock up the temperature in here, make it downright insufferable," Half-Sack mutters. Juice glares at him and socks him in the shoulder, and Half-Sack rubs the spot of pain.

"Dude," Juice whispers, his voice as low as possible so that Gemma doesn't hear. She's distracted with her phone anyways, so it doesn't look like much of a distraction. "You would mind her sweaty… and stripping… drops of sweat dropping between her breasts as she sheds her jacket?"

Half-Sack's cheeks burn a bright shade of vermillion and Juice gives him a smug smirk. At that moment, the Matriarch turns to both boys, her lips forming a sexy pout and her hair curtaining half of her face. She holds her phone loosely in one hand, and the other hand props on her cocked hip.

"No goddamned service," she hisses. "I tried calling Tara - so she could maintenence or some shit. Nothing."

Juice heads over to the elevator doors and begins banging on them with his fists. Half-Sack joins in - pounding on the doors and yelling for someone. Gemma helps out - pounded her flattened out hand against the elevator between them. With her small frame suddenly so warm and present between them, both Juice and Half-Sack get a bit flustered. When they persist for a long while with no results, Gemma steps away from the elevator with exasperation.

"Give it up, boys. We gotta wait this out. Damn… is it getting hot?" she asks, fanning herself with her hand. Both Sons affiliates look between each other. What with the close quarters of the elevators, and all their banging and screaming, the temperature had risen a bit - like Half-Sack predicted.

Gemma sheds her jacket, revealing her low cut tank top. Suddenly, both of their mouths go dry. The top is spaghetti strapped, so it displays quite a bit of skin already. But not only that, but her breasts practically pop out of the shirt - she has to constantly pull it up because it keeps sliding down. Both men try their hardest not to stare, but eventually Gemma rolls her eyes.

"It's okay, kids," she sighs, looking down to her bosom before shrugging loosely. "I won't snitch you out to Clay 'cause you were checkin' out my tits. I wouldn't dress like this if I didn't want 'em to be looked at. Distract yourselves - we got the time."

Both of their cheeks burn brightly, but with the added permission, can't help but stare. It's obvious what's running through their minds - neither of them need to say it aloud. After awhile though, they begin to feel guilty, so they slide down to the floor to rest their feet. Gemma gets the same idea, and runs her hand through her hair tiredly. It's already beginning to become wet and stringy with sweat, and all either of them can think about is her hair being sweaty under different circumstances.

"We gotta find a way out of here," Juice sighs, draping his arms over his knees. He needs to think about something other than fucking his President's old lady - although, he had it bad. "You got any ideas, Sack?"

Half-Sack seems to be way ahead of him. He has brandished his knife and is twirling it between his fingers as he stares at the ceiling above him.

"You have your knives?" he asks the other two parties in the elevator. Gemma nods - pulling a switchblade from the depths of her boot. Juice retrieves a hunting knife from the holster at his hip and they each hand them over to him. "Juice, give me a boost?"

Frowning, the older member does as told - returning to his feet and cupping his hands so the prospect can get a boost. Gemma watches them curiously from the floor, but it's obvious she has no clue what's going on. Half-Sack places his boot firmly in Juice's hands and then tries to step up, but he's too heavy - Juice's hold breaks beneath him, and he falls back to the elevator floor with the three knives in hand. Juice's instinct is to protect the old lady - he crouches in front of her and puts his hands up as the knives go flying. One knicks him in the arm, but the other two clatter safely to the floor.

Gemma looks up at Juice with wide hazel - they look brown in the darkness of the elevator - eyes and he grins sheepishly at her, examining the wound.

"It's just a scratch," he shrugs. "We have a duty to protect you."

She gives him a gentle peck on the temple in response and his face flushes. Half-Sack clears his throat from behind them, collecting the knives that have now dropped to the ground.

"Sorry. I thought that'd work."

"What were you trying to do?" Juice asks, his voice taking on a slight tone of anger. Half-Sack points to the top of the elevator, and the older member saunters over to where the prospect stands. When they're shoulder to shoulder, he looks to him for explanation.

"Look up there - a latch. It's an emergency latch that the elevator operators use," he explains. "If we can get it open - we can crawl up to the next floor and pry the doors open. It's dangerous, but it might work."

"Yeah, but you're way too heavy for me to carry and I'm too heavy for you to carry," Juice points out, crossing his arms over his chest with frustration. He tries to think out a way for it to work, but all of them end with either him or Half-Sack - or both - hurting themselves severely and leaving Gemma without protection. He groans at this realization. "Goddamnit."

"What about me?" Gemma asks, joining them under the latch. She looks up before looking between them. "I'm tall, and I'm slender. Juice - you have stronger muscles than Half-Sack, no offense honey. You hoist me up on your shoulders, and I pry the latch open with the knives."

She was right. Gemma had a slender body - that they'd fantasized about often - and she was definitely lighter than the both of them. It would be easier for her to work it. But Juice is having none of it - and honestly, neither if Half-Sack.

"No, Gemma, no way. I can't let you do that. The elevator could fall while you're up there, and you could fall with it. I'm not risking you snapping your neck," Juice growls immediately. Both Half-Sack and Gemma are briefly stunned by the tone he takes before he clears his throat. "We'll figure it out."

"Look, Juice, that's sweet. But, I can handle myself, baby. Give me a boost," she insists. Juice frowns and hesitates, but Half-Sack places a hand over his shoulder.

"I don't like it either, but it's our way out, man. Besides, she's a BAMF - she gots this," Half-Sack jokes. Juice warily eyes the latch.

"I don't like this," he sighs, cupping his hands. Half-Sack moves onto the other side, and cups his hands on the other side of Gemma's legs.

"Neither do I," the prospect admits, wincing when her heel digs into her palm.

"Both of you shut the fuck up," she retorts, jamming one of the knives into the latch. She wiggles it around, but she needs a little extra elevation. "Put me on Juice's shoulders."

They do as told - maneuvering her so that her thighs are resting on the young Son's shoulders. Juice's cheeks burn brightly again, and once more he's caught wishing that her thighs were on his shoulders in a different circumstance. Since Half-Sack is now no longer needed, he works on using his phone as a flashlight for her - providing a little bit of light so that she could see better.

"You are extremely light for your height and stature," Juice notes, trying to take some of the awkwardness out of the silence. He's not entirely lying - Gemma has perfect physique, and she's lighter than he expected. She briefly looks down at him.

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment, so thank you baby."

"No, seriously, you're like… really light. I don't feel like I'm lifting anything. It's like you're uh- what is it, Sack?"

"Featherweight?" the young man suggests, his green eyes sliding over to the young Hispanic. Juice snaps his fingers.

"That's the word!" Juice announces.

"Thank you, babies," she chuckles, her throaty cigarette smoke voice going an octave deeper. Gemma gives a finally grunt and push before giving a noise of triumph. She pushes the latch up and opens the top of the elevator. She looks down between her legs at both Juice and Half-Sack and grins at both of them. "Alright, I'm going to try and open the elevator doors on the next floor."

Gemma hands Half-Sack and Juice their knives before placing hers between her teeth and standing on top of the elevator. It gives a jolt at her weight, and slides down a bit. Juice and Half-Sack steady themselves on the railing, and glance up at Gemma.

"Damnit - get down, before you get hurt. Please, Miss Gemma," Half-Sack pleads. Gemma looks over the edge of the elevator - her hair falling into the small suffocating box a bit.

"I got it." She stands on it again and tries to climb up to the next level, but the elevator slides again. This time it drops considerably - sliding down several more floors. Juice and Half-Sack desperately try to stay on their feet as they peer up at their President's old lady nervously. They think they might've heard her scream, and they can see her nails gripping the edge of the latch tightly.

"Okay, I'm coming back down. Watch out."

Gemma drops back into the cart - landing in Juices arms, since he's the stronger of the two. For a split second, she looks up at him and he smiles back, but then she's on her feet again.

"So we wait it out?" Juice asks putting his hands on his hips and staring at the top of the elevator.

Half-Sack is just about to open his mouth to reply when the elevator lights flicker back on and the door swings open. The elevator dings and they're greeted by a confused looking maintenance man, and the director of the hospital, Margaret Murphy. The redhead seems disgusted by the fact that the Sons of Anarchy affiliates are the ones trapped in the elevator, but she opens her mouth to make a formal apology anyways. Gemma is just relieved to be out apparently, because she puts her hand up to silence her before storming out of the small silver box.

Juice and Half-Sack stare longingly after her for a long few minutes before obediently following - eager for that dinner treat that they were promised.


End Notes: That was cute. Not my best work. But cute.