Nowhere Near Gotham

by JayoftheSea

After growing up the daughter of a Nomad and a junkie, falling for him really isn't that shocking, no matter how surprised her dad had been.

A/N: This is one of several in-progress fics that I have going. I decided to post what I have so far of all of them, mostly to gauge if there's even any interest in them before writing more. No promises on if or when I will continue any of them, but drop a review to let me know if you'd be interested in more.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

January 1996 - Pittsburgh

Rane Quinn wouldn't necessarily call himself a good man. Especially after some of the things he'd done this most recent war with the Mayans. He'd been a new patch for the first one, so caught up in the outlaw life he'd entered, stars in his eyes and fire under his ass, that he didn't really process what was going on. This go 'round, he'd been a club VP, then President, after old Berry had been taken out.

No, Rane doesn't consider himself a good man, but he doesn't think he's too bad of one either. He takes care of his family, always, by any means. Always has; it's what landed him in jail that first time for him to meet Wally and Fizz and have them turn him onto the club - beating the shit out of his step daddy once he was finally big enough, for wailin' on him an' his ma all those years.

When word reaches him at a Saints clubhouse in PA that the Vegas Sons are trying to reach him, he doesn't give it much thought, at first. He's the Nomad president, charters need him for stuff all the time, even if it's just to get one of his guys out there. Should really get one of those new cell phone things, though, so it doesn't have to get relayed through 2 clubs and 4 clubhouses before word finds him when his pager is dead or he's riding and doesn't check it…. Anyway, number long ago memorized for his home-away-from-homeless charter, he thankfully takes Drew's offer to use the phone in his office when the message is delivered upon his arrival.

"Zippy, it's Quinn, heard you boys were tryin' to get ahold of me." he starts as the SAA of Vegas answers the clubhouse phone. He's expecting the usual, that they need him or one of his men to make their way to Vegas ASAP to assist with something or another. Though it's actually a little unusual for Vegas. They're tight with one of the major families in the city, don't usually have a whole lot they need help with that they can't get locally.

Instead of the typical missive, he's put on immediate high alert at the actual reason for contacting him. "Girl stopped by yesterday and dropped a note off for ya." Zippy says curiously. "Seemed important."

"What's it say?" Quinn asks urgently. Only one person that would ever be described as a 'girl' in Vegas would show up at the clubhouse looking for him.

"New HQ 702-555-3646." Zippy relays off the paper that had been left by the clubhouse phone for exactly this purpose.

After a beat of silence, Rane asks, "That's all? Did you see her personally?"

"Yeah, that's it. I was out, but Stan talked to 'er. Said she didn't seem surprised you weren't here, almost like she didn't expect you to be - had the note ready to hand him, asked to pass it on to ya."

Not wanting to feed his nosy brother's curiosity any further, Rane goes about thanking him and checking in on the status of the charter before hanging up, then immediately dialling the new number.

"Hello?" the familiar, soft voice asks.

"Hey, baby girl, I got yer note." he says into the phone, knowing his own voice sounds very different than when he'd been talking to his brother just a minute before. "What's goin' on with the number change?"

A tiny sigh on the other end of the line, then, "I just couldn't do it anymore, daddy. Eliza was helping, taking rent in payments as I could work up the cash, but mom just kept shelling it out on slots and cheap smack before I could take any of it for bills or food. And what you were dropping off helped, but a few hundred bucks a month only goes so far…."

Rane sits for a moment, flabbergasted, having never heard about his one-weekend-stand-turned-baby-momma doing anything of the sort before now. Sure, he knew she wasn't winning any mother of the year awards, but gambling and drugs? That badly? "How long has this been going on?" he eventually questions, steel in his voice.

"Years," his daughter's voice tells him sheepishly.

"And I'm just hearing about it now, because…..?"

"I'm not stupid, dad. You know I know what you are. To the club. You would've killed mom. And as much as she's a deadbeat junkie, she's still my mom. Besides, even if you hadn't and she had gone into some intense rehab or something, what would've happened then? You're a Nomad. What were you gonna do, put me on the back of your bike and have me live at whatever clubhouse you're visiting and not go to school?" She sighs again, this time sounding exhausted in a way that no 15 year old should. "I handled it…. Until I couldn't anymore."

It's Rane's turn to let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair, not sure how to take this. His daughter has always been his baby. She's had him wrapped since he first laid eyes on her. Her mother, Susan, had been a fun time on a weekend of R&R late in his first year of being a Nomad, and he'd been skeptical when she'd turned up months later when he was next in Vegas with a massive belly claiming it was his, but one look at the tiny thing wrapped in a pink blanket in the hospital had cleared every bit of doubt from his mind. To find out that his sweet and innocent little girl had probably been an act to make him think everything was…. well, not fine, exactly, but not horrible…

"You should've told me, Harley." he grumbles, trying to sound stern. Louder, he asks, "So, what, you ran away? What's going on now? Where are you staying?" He doesn't relish the thought of his 15 year old daughter staying at the clubhouse, but he'd much prefer her there than some shelter or something.

"I got a job a couple months ago. I'm renting a room from some girls that go to UNLV. Their roommate dropped out and moved back to Arizona, so they needed someone to take her place." she tells him. "Between their school and work, and my school and work, I don't see them much, but they're pretty chill."

"So, you're still in school?" he confirms. It was going to be his next question if she didn't offer the information. She's too damn smart to drop out like he had. He's convinced Harley could get scholarships for an at least decent college in a couple years, between her brains and her track and field record.

"Yeah." Harley says. "I need you to sign some stuff when you're in town, but if it won't be for awhile, I can always forge it if that's easier." Yeah, the little shit had learned both his and Susan's signatures years ago. He'd laughed his ass off when he'd found out by way of a 5th grade parent teacher conference that she'd been signing report cards and field trip forms with his john hancock. Well, he'd acted like he knew what the teacher was talking about in the actual conference, then broken down in a fit of guffaws in the parking lot after. He'd taken her straight to get ice cream before making her promise that she'd only do it when she had to. That she'd let him actually sign the important stuff.

"What's it for?"

"To legally give you custody of me so mom can't start any shit at school or whatever. She was on the ass end of a bender when I packed my shit, so she signed it without even looking at it." Rane and Susan hadn't had any formal agreements before, but Susan obviously had primary custody, and they had worked out child support between them. Obviously things had changed without him knowing, but she'd been a fairly reasonable person once upon a time. When he was in town, he'd spend time with Harley at parks or in restaurants or whatever, and rarely even saw Susan in passing, just giving the envelopes of cash to his daughter to be passed on to her mother when he dropped her off at the front door. Maybe he should've insisted on at least going into the house occasionally.

Thinking about his schedule, he answers her. "I'm on my way to Boston for a few days, then I should be able to come straight there. You good for money until late next week? For food an' shit? I can get one of the guys to drop you off some cash for me if you need-"

"I'm fine, dad." he can practically hear her rolling her eyes at his concern, which she has always considered overprotectiveness. "I'm not rollin' in it or anything, but I make okay tips at the diner I work at, and between free breakfast and lunch at school, and my shift meals, I barely have to actually buy food." Right, he'd forgotten that that's some of the paperwork he'd had to actually sign - shit about his income or whatever so she qualified for free meals at the school cafeteria.

"Okay," he sighs out in resignation. He feels weirdly powerless and ineffective knowing she's taken care of getting herself out of what was apparently an intolerable situation, and he can't help at all from thousands of miles away. Hell, there probably wouldn't be much he could do if he was standing next to her right now. "This your private line, or will the other girls be answerin' it?"

"It's my cell phone." she tells him. "I got one of those cheap ones that you can prepay for packs of minutes instead of doing a contract, or whatever." He hadn't known that was an option, but it makes the encroaching technology more palatable than it had been 20 minutes ago when he'd been contemplating them.

"Ok, sweetpea. I'll stop jabberin' an' wastin' your money, then. I'll let you know when I'm in town." he tells her.

Harley tells him the name of the diner she works at in case he can't get ahold of her by phone, because she can't carry the phone with her, so it stays in her purse in the back office while she's on shift. Then, they hang up, and Rane bends over, propping his elbows on his knees and fisting his hands in his hair and just thinking for a minute, trying to process.

His baby is growing up - has grown up - far too fast, without him even noticing. She's now working to support herself through high school the way many people do college, and he'd been so absentee that she'd simply done what she had to and made sure he knew how to get ahold of her instead of asking for his help with her druggie mom.

He's never felt like more of a failure to any part of his family in his damn life.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

May 1997 - Las Vegas

Happy's been a Nomad for nearly 2 years, and he'd call him and Rane Quinn pretty good friends, as far as dudes who see each other for a few days at a time here and there and are in constant high-pressure situations together go.

Why Quinn is dragging him to some random as fuck diner halfway across Vegas from the clubhouse? He has no fuckin' clue, but it must be important, since Happy had been sworn to secrecy about their little jaunt. Ok, not exactly secrecy, but Quinn had made it very clear that this was to be kept on the DL, and who is he to really question his Prez?

They get off their bikes and head inside. The random as fuck diner is immediately weird, if only because their presence goes largely unremarked, at least by the staff and minimum a third of the customers. Normally, a couple Sons rolling up to a rando place garners more attention. And him and Quinn aren't exactly the least intimidating of dudes even if they didn't have kuttes. He's not a small guy at 6'2" and pretty muscley, but his president absolutely dwarfs him (no pun intended and you're liable to get a fist to the nose if you try), with a solid 5 inches in height over him and biceps the size of tree trunks.

A middle-aged woman in a waitress uniform simply smiles politely and leads them to a table without a word or a sideways glance, dropping menus in front of them, but not taking a drink order.

As Hap's opening his mouth to comment, 2 cups of coffee are unceremoniously plunked down on the table between them, and he looks up to find a girl. Woman. No, girl. Probably. He's found it harder and harder to differentiate as he hit his mid-20s, because he still feels like a teenager sometimes and it gets tricky not identifying with younger people on the same level-

His thoughts are cut off when she speaks. "Well, this is a surprise." Her voice is playful as she looks at Quinn, standing with a hand on her hip. That makes him notice her body, which is exactly his type - tall, legs for miles, slender, with curves exactly where they should be. Her tits aren't anything to go nuts for, but they're there, which is all he really cares about in the end, and he can see a perfect hourglass even under the frumpy waitress uniform.

"I was in the area." Happy's attention turns to Quinn now, as the big man's voice sounds completely different than usual. He's smiling up at the girl fondly, and Hap stares for a moment, unable to process the soft look on the hard man's face. "Wanted to introduce you to Happy. He's one o' my best, and he's in the region a lot, so if you ever can't reach me or you know I can't make it here fast enough, I want him to be number 2 on your speed dial."

At this, she clears the doubts from Happy's mind about whether she's woman or girl as she slumps her shoulders in the universal teenager way and rolls her eyes. "Dad, I can-"

"Take care of yourself, yeah, yeah, of course you can." Quinn cuts her off, indulgently rolling his own eyes.

Wait. Dad? Glancing between them, it becomes abruptly and startlingly clear. Her long, gold-blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes are the exact same colors as Quinn's, and her face is similar, as well. Lips, shape of the eyes.

His president turns to him at this point, smirking at seeing how startled his usually unflappable brother is. "Hap, this is my baby girl, Harley."

Teenage boy Hap kicks in before the rest of his brain. "Wait. Harley Quinn? Like-"

She rolls her eyes even harder before interrupting him. "I was named before she appeared in the comics, so no, not like that Harley Quinn. Harley like 'My daddy loves me as much as his…..'" she gestures the blank space before continuing, looking back to Rane wryly. "At least, that's what he's always told me. I've always suspected it had more to do with where and/or how I was conceived." Rane only chuckles out some laughter in reply. "Can I get you guys somethin' to eat or you need a minute to look at the menus, still?"

"Give a few minutes, hun." Quinn says, picking his menu up, prompting Happy to do the same. They're at a diner, they may as well get lunch while they're here, right?

As she walks off to tend her other tables while they decide, Happy looks over his menu at his president. "Dude. Some fuckin' warning woulda been cool."

Quinn only shakes his head, obviously still amused. "But not nearly as fun for me." letting his laminated menu fall back to the table after apparently deciding what he wants, he crosses his massive forearms on the edge of the tabletop, apparently relaxing. "Look, Hap, I don't trust many people with this. With her. Just you and a handful of other Nomads. Not even the Vegas boys know about her - she's only ever been to the clubhouse once, when she needed to get a message to me, and they got no idea who she is."

He doesn't have to explain why. Happy has eyes, and a brain. Quinn doesn't want his daughter involved in the life, at least not yet if it can be helped, and Hap gets that. They're a big, loving family, but it's not exactly a stable or calm environment to raise kids in. Quinn even less so being on the road all the time, and the more people know about her, the higher the risk of her being used against Quinn gets. And now that she's in what he assumes is her lateish teens, she's a looker. Putting her around a bunch of outlaw bikers is just askin' for trouble.

"You hidin' a Old Lady over here, too?" Happy makes an attempt to rib his friend.

Laughingly, the big man answers him. "Nah, Susan was a fun weekend a long ass time ago. We were never a thing." An odd, almost melancholy cast takes over Rane shortly after saying this, and Hap looks back to his menu, not wanting to pry.

"You boys decided?" comes the soft voice as Harley appears next to their table again. They each end up ordering a cheeseburger to various specifications, and she darts off again to get back to work.

"How old is she?" Happy figures that Harley is at least a relatively safe topic to ask about, since Quinn had brought him here to meet her.

Quinn looks slightly morosely over at his daughter where she's filling cups at the soda fountain for another table's order. "16 goin' on 30." he tells the much younger man with a sigh. "She couldn't deal with her druggie mom anymore and moved out on her own last year, so she's workin' her way through high school - won't let me just flat out pay her way, she'll take the same amount her mom was gettin' for child support, and insists on doin' the rest herself. Susan disappeared off the map a few months after Harley moved out. Think her gambling or smack debts caught up to her without Harley there to keep her at least a little in check." Shaking his head, he picks up his coffee to take a long drink before telling Hap more. "I know she isn't totally wrong about bein' able to take care of herself, at least on the day-to-day shit. She's been doin' it since she could read, basically. But, I'd just feel better…." he trails, and Happy finishes the thought.

"If I was on call and knew who she is, just in case." he says, making Quinn nod in confirmation.

"She lives with some college girls now, but they're all graduating next month, so I'm gonna get her an apartment. Not give her a choice about me payin' rent anymore. I'll make sure you have all the info and make sure there's a key for you - I wanna get her a 2-bedroom place, so if you're ever in town and don't wanna crash at the clubhouse, or whatever…." Quinn hedges his request a little, making Happy smirk, now getting more amused at this new side of Quinn now that he's had a minute to absorb the intel.

"I'll stop by an' check on her when I'm in town." he promises without hesitation.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

May 1997 - Las Vegas

"When are you off today, sweetpea?" her father asks her as he drops enough bills to cover their meal and leave her a tip that she manages to only roll her eyes at internally.

Flipping her wrist to look at the cheap watch there, she answers, "About an hour." It's been a steady day, but not slammed, so she's had time to do most of her sidework as she goes about her shift, meaning she shouldn't have to stay long once she clocks out.

The men stand up and she can't help but notice the other Son her father had brought in with him. She hadn't taken much note earlier, but now that he's standing, she sees he's pretty impressive himself, if not necessarily obviously so next to the hulking figure of her dad. While she hadn't quite gotten her father's height, she is far from a shorty at 5'10", and this Happy guy has a solid few inches on her. Harley deliberately doesn't check him out, even though the definition in his tanned arms and the thick hair and dark eyes are tempting. He's obviously a lot younger than her dad, and most of the guys he'd brought to meet her before, and she just can't go there with one of her dad's guys.

Rane engulfs her in his usual bear hug, saying something about picking her up later to take her for a ride, which she feels her face involuntarily light up at.

Since she was little, riding on her daddy's bike with him had always been her favorite thing. It meant she got to escape her mom for awhile - sometimes for a couple hours, sometimes for whole weekends and occasionally more during the summer months - and be taken care of for once instead of handling everything herself. She knows her father feels bad about how little he'd been around while she was growing up, and even worse for not checking up more on the situation with her mother, but she'd always been good at hiding it from him, and had never blamed him. There's no doubt in her mind that, had he had any inkling what was going on in the little house rented from an elderly woman who let them stay more so that Harley would have a roof over her head than because the rent was fully and consistently paid, he would've figured something out, even if it meant handing his beloved Nomad charter off to someone else to transfer to Vegas and raise her.

Harley just never felt the need to call him in on it. As far as she was concerned, from age 7 or so when her mother's using and gambling had gone from recreational to abusive, she had the situation under control. And when she was old enough, she simply got a job, saved up a little, and moved out.

It's about 4 when she is laying in her room working on some AP Calc homework and she hears the familiar sound of a bike pulling up. She's already dressed to ride, having not known what time her father would show up, so Harley hops up off her mattress on the floor - proper bed being out of the budget and her refusing to ask her father for more money than he already gives her every month - and grabs her helmet from where she'd set it out next to her door and double-checks she has her keys and wallet before almost jogging outside.

Her helmet is secure before she's off the little front porch and there's no hesitation in her stride as she barely slows before lifting a leg to swing over the back and plants her ass firmly on the back seat, picking up her feet at the same time she squeezes her arms as hard as she can around her father's torso.

Booted feet - one of the things her dad always insists on buying her, no matter how much she argues, are sturdy boots for when she rides with him - settle on the back pegs as Rane picks up his own feet as he takes off down the older residential street.

Las Vegas isn't a huge city, geographically speaking, so he takes a long, circuitous route out toward Red Rock before stopping at one of their regular spots, which has a nice view of the canyon. Harley climbs off the bike and takes off her dome, handing it to him to hang next to his, before diving without hesitation into the saddle bags where she knows he will have loaded up on snacks and drinks for them. Soon, they're settled on a big rock nearby with a bag of chips, some sour gummy worms, and M&Ms between them, bottles of Dr. Pepper in hand.

"So, give me an update. How's my girl?" her dad asks very broadly as they both crack their sodas.

Harley shrugs noncommittally. "Same shit, different day."

Rane looks over at her incredulously, but knows he has himself to blame for that one. He'd learned since the whole 'moving out' fiasco that he has to ask specific questions if he wants any real answers, and even then, she's good at talking around shit. "How are your grades?"

"Fine. Mostly Bs. I'm on track for graduation credits." is the answer.

Frowning, he asks the same question he has for the last year and a half that she'd been on her own. "And you're still not struggling to keep up, with school and work? You have time for all your homework and to do track?"

"Yes, dad. I do morning practice for track before school, and have plenty of time for homework. It's not like I'm working full time." That, she's stretching the truth on, but only one part, and only technically. She works between 30 and 35 hours a week, which isn't full time, legally. While she doesn't, strictly speaking, have 'plenty' of time for homework, she has enough to get it done and pass all her classes, some by a better margin than others.

Who really needs a whole 7-8 hours of sleep every night, after all?

Rane studies her face and either decides to believe her or not pursue that line of questioning further. Instead, he asks, "What about friends? Boys?" the last word is croaked out like he doesn't want to really know the answer.

Giggling around a mouthful of sour gummy worms, Harley quickly swallows before teasing him. "Yes, I have friends at school, and some of them are even boys."

"You know what I meant." he grumbles, ripping into the M&Ms.

Still smiling at his paternal awkwardness, she placates him. "No, I don't have a boyfriend, or anyone that even might be one anytime soon." This, there isn't the slightest lie in. Okay, maybe a tiny one. She has a group of people on the track and field team that she's friendly with, but she wouldn't really call them friends. None of them really know her, or anything about her home situation. They don't hang out, or even really talk outside of school. And, while she had occasionally gone out on a few dates here and there, and even had a couple boyfriends for short periods of time, before leaving her mom's house, she had been too busy to even think about it since then.

Satisfied that she is more or less leading a normalish life, they're quiet for awhile, munching on snacks and looking out over the canyon.

Eventually, he brings up what he really needs to talk to her about. "I'm getting you an apartment for when your roommates graduate." he tells her, somewhat out of the blue.

Whipping her head towards him, she immediately launches her argument. "Dad, I can't afford-"

"I can." he insists, looking at his daughter square in the eye. "I'm not sayin' it'll be anything fancy, but there's some 2-bedrooms I been lookin' at that I can afford easy enough. I don't got a lot of expenses, sweetpea, and I earn pretty good with the club, no matter what the paperwork for your school lunches says. Let me get you a place where I can come crash with my little girl for a weekend here and there, huh?"

Suddenly, she feels like a bit of an idiot. Of course he hadn't put down his actual income somewhere that the government could track it. He's in an outlaw MC, most of it is probably from illegal ventures. She'd always been firmly against asking him for more than the bare minimum - refusing to take more than what he'd been paying her mother for child support since she moved out - based on thinking he didn't have money. And also pride, but still.

Sighing, she gives in. It'll be nice to have a place that's mostly her own, she can't deny that. "Okay."

"I only have a couple rules." Rane says, going into full dad-mode, drawing her attention. "No hard drugs. I get that you're a teenager, and what teenager doesn't get stoned once in awhile? But that or alcohol is it, and if I find out you're doing anything harder, we're gonna have a serious talk." She hasn't actually ever smoked weed, and only had a beer here or there a few times with her roommates, so it's no trouble for her to nod an agreement. "You graduate. I know you're on the fence about college, but I want you to at least get your high school diploma, and consider applying for college." Harley's nod here is more reluctant. She'd fully intended on finishing high school, but the college thing is a long-time sticking point between them. "Last condition - me and Happy are both gonna have keys. He's agreed to stop in and check on you for me whenever he's in town, so, between the 2 of us, you should be seein' one or the other every couple weeks."

"Really? I'll be 17 in a few months, I've been living basically on my own for a year and a half, and you're giving me a babysitter NOW?" she asks incredulously.

Rane chuckles. "Oh, darlin', if you had any idea what goes on in men's heads, you'd realize that almost-legal and very pretty is exactly the time a daddy needs to start babysittin' his daughter." She blushes in the early evening light, looking away from him, obviously catching his drift.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

February 1998 - Las Vegas

Harley'd seen the Dyna outside, so she isn't surprised when she walks into her apartment to find Happy's boots by the door, and kutte draped over the back of the armchair, while the man himself is sprawled out on the couch watching TV, one empty beer bottle on the coffee table in front of him, while a second, nearly-empty one is in his hand.

"Hey." is his usual, simple greeting.

"Hey." she returns it, not fazed as she toes off her work sneakers.

In the almost 8 months since her dad had moved her into the small 2-bedroom apartment, she and Hap had bonded, in a weird way. He'd taken his charge from Rane to look in on her seriously, at the very least dropping by the diner to check on her every single time he's so much as riding through town, stopping over for the night whenever he has time, and staying two or three nights at a shot sporadically. He's actually clocked more nights in the bed in the second room than her dad has at this point.

For Harley's part, she hadn't fought it. At first, because it was pointless and he's pretty great to look at. Later, once she'd become comfortable around him, she'd developed a bit of a crush as they got to know each other a little, talking over pizza or other takeout and a shared love of action movies. She'd done everything she could to squash it down, though - there is no way he'd ever be interested in her, and even if he was, he'd never hook up with his brother and president's daughter. So, they'd formed a sort of friendship.

Actually, depressing as it is, Harley realizes as she hobbles across the edge of the living room into the hall and stops outside the hall linen closet and empties her apron before shoving it in the washing machine, Happy's probably her best friend.

Not in a sleepovers and doing each other's nails way - though that's a hell of an image - but in the sense that he's the only person she's not related to that really knows her at all. No one at school has any idea that she works just shy of full time to help with bills and save up for a car and the insurance payments that she's sure will be through the roof on it when she does buy one, and so she has a little to fall back on once she's out of high school. She and her dad haven't discussed what's going to happen, financially, when she graduates in a few months, but she's working off the assumption that she'll have to at least start paying part of the rent if she wants to keep living here.

Hell, at this point, Happy probably knows her better in some ways than her dad.

He's the one that listens to her occasionally bitch about school and work and track team drama - she's debating not even signing up this year. She never complains to her dad about anything. He'll just try and fix it. Hap seems to get that, sometimes, she just needs to bitch about stuff.

She does the same for him, too, after all. She's learned a lot about the club in the past 8 months. Not that Rane ever intentionally kept info about it from her - beyond club business, of course - but his time with her has always mostly revolved around just spending time together, so he hadn't talked about it much unless she was asking questions.

Happy has no such inhibitions. In their talks, he's expanded her basic knowledge of how the club is structured, what club life is like, even clued her in on the parties and why her dad is so reluctant to take her around clubhouses if it can be avoided. And, yeah, he does his own share of griping. After a promise that what he says to her in need of venting wouldn't make it back to her dad, he'd started airing the things that bother or sometimes just get to him, which occasionally includes shit her dad does.

Her tired thoughts on having a biker that's 8 years older than her for a best friend occupy her through a shower and changing into her normal cotton pj shorts and a tank top. Looking at her little desk in the corner of her bedroom and knowing she really should work on the English paper that's due in a few days, she decides against it, instead heading back out to join Happy on the couch, her damp hair hanging over her shoulders and down to her mid-back. Curling her legs under her, Harley's head drops back on the backrest and she closes her eyes, listening to the re-run of Seinfeld on the tv and Happy's quiet breathing a couple feet away from her.

"Long day?" he asks after several moments, his low, raspy voice already sympathetic in tone.

Nodding without raising her head or opening her eyes, she explains, "2 pop quizzes that I wasn't really prepared for, and a really busy night at the diner." She leaves off that she'd started her period that afternoon, which was enough to exhaust her all on it's own.

"You're walkin' like you're hurtin'." Happy observes casually.

Thankfully, the only light is from the tv, so she hopes he doesn't catch her blush. "My back and hips are kinda sore." she tries to downplay it. When he nudges her shoulder, Harley's eyes pop open and she turns her head toward him. "What?"

The now-empty second beer bottle has joined the first on the coffee table, and he gestures at the couch. "Lay down on your stomach, put your legs on my lap." he gently orders.

Harley follows the instructions a little slowly, trusting him but not sure what's happening. She doesn't have long to wait to find out. Due to her height, her thighs rest over his and her shins are propped up against the far arm of the couch. Happy twists just enough to get an easier angle, and starts kneading his fingers into her lower back, hard, pulling an involuntary moan out of her as he efficiently presses away the knots there.

It won't take care of the main source of her pain at the moment, but damn does it feel good. She hadn't even realized how much her back just plain hurt from being tense. And probably from carrying around heavy plates and trays for almost 3 years plus a fairly active lifestyle besides.

She's a proverbial puddle of goo by the time he starts digging at the ones around her shoulder blades. Her hormones are already wacky because she's on her period, and now her hot, older, biker best friend that she has a crush on is touching her much more than he ever has to date, and it isn't making it easy to squash those more-than-friendly feelings down like she normally does.

"Damn, girl, you need to…. relax more." Harley doesn't miss when Happy censors himself, cutting off the lewd comment and tone he was saying it in abruptly.

She blames the weird hormones and endorphin rush for what she does next. Cocking her leg that's toward the outside of the couch to create a gap between her thighs, she breathes out, "Well, as long as you're volunteering your services…."

There's a shocked pause in which Happy freezes completely, before he starts chuckling, keeping his hands up working on her shoulders. "You tryin' to get me killed, little girl?" he asks lowly, teasing back.

Mortified at her own behavior, but now knowing she'll lose face with him if she turns into a shrinking violet after THAT very forward move, Harley stays in exactly the same position, replying, "Not as little as my dad likes to pretend." ruefully.

She can't place his tone of voice as he waits a beat and responds, "Too true…" quietly.

A few minutes later, he declares he's done what he can, and she carefully twists to sit back up and stretch languidly, missing the way his eyes run over her as she does.

With a look at the clock on the VCR, she declares, "I should get to bed." before turning and moving before she can stop herself, planting a firm kiss on Hap's cheek. "Thanks. I feel way better." Popping up from the couch, she doesn't wait for a response, just heading back down the short hall, knowing he'll clean up after himself and get to bed in the other room whenever he feels like it.

Closing her bedroom door and clicking off the overhead light, she flops down on her bed, letting her mortification at her own actions take over.

'Oh god, could I BE any more fucking obvious? Or look ANY more desperate?' she thinks, groaning quietly into her pillow momentarily before climbing under her covers, then, after a minute, giving in and reaching one hand down into her pajama shorts, because he'd been right about one thing, even if it was inadvertent. Getting laid - more specifically, getting off - would at least help with her cramps. And he'd effectively left her a 17-year-old gooey pool of hormones and sexual frustration with his little impromptu back rub, no matter how well-meaning it had been.

It helps a little, but she can't help but think that a proper, mind-melting orgasm would've helped her cramps a lot more if he'd taken her up on the unthinking offer, and she tries not to dwell on his gentle rejection. She'd known since the moment she realized she found him attractive that he'd never go there with her, certainly not while she's still jailbait, as he'd teasingly called her a few times. Thankfully, they have been occasionally playfully flirty enough as they got more and more comfortable with each other that he seemed to have taken it in that spirit instead of getting awkward.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

February 1998 - Las Vegas

Back out on the couch, Happy is much less relaxed than he'd been earlier.

He'd noted that very first time he saw her that Harley is exactly his type physically, but immediately dismissed the possibility upon discovering not a minute later that she's Rane's kid, putting her firmly in the 'never gonna happen' category.

Happy hadn't counted on getting to know her. He'd thought checking in on her would just be a quick stop whenever he was in Vegas, maybe occasionally crashing overnight because the bed here is so much better than what he'd get at the clubhouse. It had taken only a few visits to realize that she has a wry sense of humor that complements his own dry sarcasm well. Another couple visits and he'd discovered how easy it is just to talk to her in general.

She knows about the club - enough about the seedier aspects that he doesn't have to watch what he says too much - and isn't the usual scared/intimidated/fascinated that outsiders get about it. But she's not really an outsider to it, is she? She's just an unknown within it. But it had made it easy to talk to her about it, to vent the small annoyances that build up, the same way she does to him about the one coworker that never finishes her sidework or the annoying basketball player that she'd got stuck tutoring in math so he can get his grade up enough to be a starter this season.

And, no matter what Quinn thinks, Hap's convinced the little bitch really can take care of herself. He'd shown up once to find her with some bruised and split knuckles, and a faint bruise on her cheek, and when he'd demanded to know what happened and why she hadn't called him, she'd looked him square in the eye and told him in no uncertain terms that the situation was handled and he can fucking drop it.

She'd looked and sounded so much like her father in that moment that Happy had, without further question. Instead, he'd loaded her onto his bike - a first for him, having a bitch on his bike that he isn't fucking - and taken her out to the desert to shoot shit, and made sure she could really handle the guns that he knows Quinn had stocked the apartment with. While Happy doesn't doubt that Rane would make sure she could shoot, he wanted to know her exact capabilities with a firearm, because he has no doubt she'll take after her papa if it ever comes down to a matter of killing to protect either herself or someone she gives a damn about.

He'd started, over these past months, to consider her a friend more than an assignment from his president. She hadn't told him that it was at least partly her period that had her hurting, but he'd grown up with his ma, an equally single aunt, and a gaggle of 4 older cousins that are all female. And he's had a couple long-term-ish girlfriends. He knows some shit about chicks, even if he'll never admit it to his brothers and it doesn't seem to do him much good in holding onto a girl for more than 6 or so months when he bothers to date.

It had almost been autopilot to have her lay down and give her a back rub to try and help her hurt less. Like clockwork every few weeks growing up, ma and his aunt would have him or one of his cousins walking on their backs, then, when they all got too big for that, they taught him to give a good back rub. As each of his older cousins had hit puberty over the course of a couple years, he'd basically become the family masseuse. It had scored him more than a few chicks over the years once he himself hit puberty, too.

'Well, as long as you're volunteering your services….' he feels her soft voice skittering down his spine as the memory of the feeling of one of her thighs dropping off to the side plays out again, and he tries to shake his mind away from that and the image of her torso stretched taut after she'd sat back up, and her perky, round little ass, covered only by a thin layer of cotton, as she'd walked off down the hall.

Happy has no idea how serious she'd been, if she was at all, but he'd been very tempted to take her up on it. Not only because he's a red-blooded straight dude with eyes, but because - as he's realizing now, after the fact - he might actually kinda like her.

And THAT is DANGEROUS.

Besides the obvious threat of her father (Rane Quinn pounding your face in being a very effective deterrent even with no other red flags), Happy knows he isn't exactly 'boyfriend' material. On the road all the time, not great at the whole 'commitment' thing when surrounded by free and easy pussy near-constantly, and generally lacking in the patience department, his last relationship had gone down in flames after 7 months even without the issue of him being Nomad to contend with.

Plus, Harley's not even out of high school yet, or 18 for that matter.

He may not be the sharpest crayon, but he's not stupid, either. 'No', he thinks, clicking off the tv and gathering his empties to throw away before double checking the locks and heading to bed himself. 'Best shut down that little fantasy right fucking now. Ain't gonna happen, buddy boy.'

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

Early August 1998 - Las Vegas

Harley balances the tray of drinks as she follows her trainer, Aubrey, into one of the high-stakes card rooms, carefully placing her feet so she doesn't fall and break her ankle in the still-unfamiliar heels.

It's her third shift working at the Palms since she turned 18 and got her permit to serve alcohol, and tonight Aubrey, and her by default, had been scheduled to serve the big-spenders. Aubrey had pulled her into the bathroom upon arrival and pulled out her makeup bag, immediately sitting Harley on the counter to slather and press more makeup onto her face, saying that they'll get better tips this way. The previous 2 nights had been out on the general floor, learning the circuits she should take to get orders and pick up empties around the section she'd been assigned for the night.

The next step had been to take her hair down from the bun it had been in and clip it back at the nape of her neck, pulling some strands in front free, before Aubrey declared her 'good enough' with pursed lips.

The much shorter girl had led her back out, significantly more confident on her heels and in the body-hugging, cheap, black cocktail dress they're both wearing than Harley is.

It isn't incredibly revealing - she had taken one look at the waitresses at Circus Circus and turned on her heel to walk right back out without an application; even if she were okay walking around in glorified lingerie masquerading as a showgirl-reminiscent outfit, her father would slaughter her - but it's sleeveless, and has a fairly low neckline, and, on her long-as-hell legs that she curses at times like this, only goes a quarter of the way down her thigh, and is much more girly than anything in Harley's closet at home. She's pretty sure the only other dress or skirt she even owns is her diner uniform, since she still picks up shifts there periodically. Upon arriving for her first day, she'd been handed 2 of this exact dress along with her nametag and told she should have her hair and makeup done daily.

Walking into the high-stakes poker room without paying much attention at first, she resolves to spend some of her coveted savings on makeup and sitting down and practicing until she can figure the stuff out. She'd thought she was doing okay until Aubrey had pulled her into the bathroom, and she'd realized she'd barely grasped the basics after the other girl was done with her.

Following Aubrey's lead, she sets her loaded tray on the room-boss's counter surrounding his little pit where he and his assistant can rove around and keep an eye on the 3 different games that are running at different tables, the girls start grabbing drinks and swapping out new ones for empties.

It's only as she sets down a whiskey in front of someone without an empty at Aubrey's quiet direction that she realizes she should've looked around at some point.

The man she'd just served looks up to thank her, and she smiles down at him automatically as her brain goes through a series of different realizations. Even as she moves away to fetch the next drink, the smell hits her - the familiar cologne of leather and asphalt dust and stale cigarette smoke. After that, the feel of soft, worn leather against her arm as she leans in to set down a drink for the man next to him. As she somewhat blankly moves around, distributing more drinks, she can't help but almost feel the eyes of the reaper on the back of what she discovers to be 3 different kuttes - one at each table - following her, despite none of the men themselves taking any real notice of her.

Silly as it seems, she'd never considered the possibility of just…. running into her dad and Happy's brothers before. Despite knowing that the Nomads ride almost constantly between charters, her limited perception of the club has always been, basically, that they have their clubhouse and that's where the club is and if you need to go to the club for something - like to get a message to your Nomad dad back before he'd gotten a cell phone - the clubhouse is where you go.

But the guys are people, obviously.

Harley'd known that, intellectually. That they're men who have lives and families and shit outside of the club. And she knows that members go almost everywhere with their kuttes on. Them's the rules, after all. But off in her little neighborhood in Whitney, almost never leaving about a 5-square-mile area except to go to other schools for track meets, it had never occurred to her that she may see kuttes just…. around. Even weirder than this realization is the one that follows - she knows who these guys are to her, but they have no idea who she is.

"Like your name, sweetheart." a smooth voice pulls Harley from her thoughts, and she focuses in the guy wearing an expensive suit that talking to her with her 'waitress smile' automatically falling into place. "Is it short for somethin'?" he asks, a little lamely.

Her smile turns a little more genuine. At least it's not the normal Batman reference. "No, my dad says that he never thought he could love anything as much as his bike and didn't know how to deal with it, so he named me Harley to make it easier." The anecdote gets some chuckles and a very interested look from the Son at that table.

Aubrey continues to quietly instruct her on what to do and how the high-stakes rooms are different than the main floor as the night wears on.

Harley's feet hurt like hell 3 hours into her 7-hour shift, and on one run back to pick up a round of appetizers, Aubrey advises that she may want to go find some cute flats that fit the appearance code until she's used to wearing heels for a longer period of time, so she can change partway through her shift.

"Honestly, I still switch to flats sometimes if I have more than 2 long shifts over a couple days. These heels are great for tips, but they're murder on your feet." the shorter girl says as they arrange plates on trays.

"I'm getting that." Harley agrees, taking a moment to peak down at her basic black pumps, bought at Payless upon being informed of the dress code when she was offered the job, admitting that they do at least make her legs look fantastic.

By the 6-hour mark, it's officially the early hours of the morning and the tables have thinned enough that they've been combined into one much smaller, very tense, game of Texas Hold 'Em. The girls haven't really had much to do other than clear up as people left and fetch the occasional drink for at least 2 hours, but they still have to be on-hand in case anyone wants to order something, and they can't sit in front of the guests, so Aubrey had discreetly demonstrated that the chair backs are sturdy enough to handle them kind of perching on to get some weight off their feet, and from the other side of the room boss's pit from the only currently-occupied table, it still looks like they're standing, so they take turns resting and standing closer to the table in case they're needed.

"Alright, gentlemen," the room boss announces between rounds at one point, startling Harley out of the slight daze she'd fallen into standing and waiting for someone to need something. "Our lovely waitresses are coming to the end of their shift, so if you want another drink, go ahead and order now or wait until one of our late servers makes her rounds to this room every half hour or so beginning at 4 until regular service resumes at 8:30."

Harley's only watch doesn't fit the dress code with it's neon plastic band, and she adds a new one to her lengthening list of things she'll need to buy.

But, as Aubrey and she move around collecting the final empties and orders of their shift, they're handed a mix of chips and cash to add to the not-insignificant piles of both already in the half-aprons around their hips. 20 minutes later, the pair of them straddle opposite ends of the same bench in the employee locker room, feet gladly freed from the torture devices known as high heels, sorting, counting, and dividing their haul right down the middle.

Achy feet and having to learn how to do girly shit and wear a dress she's still getting used to aside…. Harley made more tonight than she would in 3 shifts at the diner.

"You'll get used to it." Aubrey tells her. "The job and the big tip nights. This was a good one even for the high-rollers. Management's pretty good about cycling through the girls and rotating out who's serving in there - spread the wealth, y'know - but if you get some loyal guests that request you, or you get in good with the pit and room bosses, you can get more shifts there. But even in there, you can have sucky tip nights, so don't count on it always being a good payout. If the vibe in there is bad, everyone tenses up and holds onto their chips and cash like their life depends on it." Aubrey pauses in her sorting motions for a moment before snorting. "Hell, it's Vegas high rollers, some of their lives might depend on it if they're on a losing streak." she jokes, and Harley makes herself laugh along with it, her stomach sinking as she thinks about the role she knows her father and his Nomads play in the club and wonders if the Sons are involved with any of the local casinos.

After they change into their street clothes, they go out to the cage together and cash in the chips they'd gotten as tips before making their way to the main lobby.

"I'll see you on Thursday." Harley calls as Aubrey splits off towards the elevators to go to the parking garages.

Aubrey stops, a puzzled look on her face as Harley turns instead toward the main doors. "Wait, how are getting home?" she questions, puzzled, since the busses stopped running 3 hours ago and don't start again for another almost 2.

Harley stops and turns back. "Oh, taxi." she gestures to the general side of the door where there's always a handful of taxis waiting at every hour, ready to take people to the airport or wherever. "I still have a few months of saving before I can get a car." she explains a bit shyly.

The girl sizes her up, asking, "Where do you live?"

Looking down at her feet, knowing things are tough around her neighborhood and it doesn't have the best reputation lately, she says, "Whitney."

Gesturing to the elevator door, the short girl with cute reddish-brown hair offers, "C'mon, I'll give you a ride."

"It's out of your way, don't you live up in North Vegas?" Harley tries to argue.

Aubrey scoffs, saying, "Barely. Seriously, it's no big, I can drop you off and just hop on the 515 straight home. Extra 20 minutes on my drive. Tops. Probably less since I'm not dealing with stoplights every other block like I normally am headed home." Seeing Harley still hesitating, she sighs and tries one last tactic before giving up and letting her take a cab. "If it helps, consider it me donating the cost of a cab, minus half a gallon of gas, toward your car fund."

With a grateful smile, Harley gives in, spinning fully to rejoin Aubrey as she hits the button for the elevator.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

Late August 1998 - Las Vegas

"Tell me about this new job." Happy tries to prompt Harley into conversation over the Chinese food he'd just had delivered, which they're eating out of the cartons on the couch.

"What's there to tell you about? I'm a cocktail waitress. I'm sure you're familiar with them. At least a few dozen, I'd imagine." she teases. After things had managed to stay not-weird with the whole massage thing, Harley had only become more comfortable with Happy, less hesitant to tease him. Even flirt a little more, knowing he'll flirt back but never act on it. There's some weird comfort in knowing she isn't in any way socially obligated to follow through, because he's not taking it seriously.

Working at the casino has also improved her people skills rapidly.

It's a totally different world than her little neighborhood diner where she still usually has 1 or 2 lunch shifts per week. At the casino, you come across so many people that you either learn to deal fast, or you end up fired after a few complaints. And Harley is nothing if not adaptable. She'd integrated into the role of 'friendly and sweet but slightly reserved' waitress quickly. She has an eye for spotting the people that are going to try and demand a lot of time, and is learning how far into the 'reserved' personality trait she can push it before it becomes outright standoffish to try and deter those people from being remotely interested in her.

Happy grins wickedly around his bite of kung pao chicken, not confirming or denying that. "Where at? This neighborhood ain't exactly the type to have places fancy enough to need a waitress just for 'cocktails'."

"Up on the strip-" she's cut off by his phone starting to ring on the table, and excuses herself silently to the kitchen, knowing it's almost certainly the club at after 9pm. He's told her more about the club than he probably should have, likely assuming she knew most of it already from her dad, but she doesn't want to put him in a weird position by her overhearing anything she shouldn't just by being in the same room while he's on the phone.

A couple minutes of him talking quietly go by, then there's a pause and the dull sound of his phone getting set back down, so she grabs the 2 beers she'd popped open at some point and heads back in there.

"Everything alright?" she asks almost compulsively.

Happy turns to her with an eyebrow raised, grabbing the fresh beer and setting it behind his almost-empty one. "Yeah? Why wouldn't it be?"

Realizing it's another one of those super obvious things about the club that she just hadn't really realized before, Harley blushes. Hard. And he's looking to her like he really wants an answer, and oh god she's going to have to explain her own stupidity to him.

Taking a deep breathe, she tries to make it as brief and painless as possible. "When my dad gets calls or pages from the club, it's always because something, somewhere, has gone sideways and they need one of you guys in to fix it."

Happy looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, before flooring her with his response. "That makes sense. If it's all you've ever known, then I can see why you'd assume every club call means bad news."

"Oh," she busies herself looking down at her black pepper beef. "I thought I was stupid for not realizing that he gets those calls because of who he is, not because that's just every call."

Happy's shoulder brushes hers casually as he shrugs, digging back into his chicken. "There's a big difference between being stupid and just not knowing something." They watch the headlines scroll by on the muted late news that had been what they landed on without anything else really interesting to watch, quiet for a few minutes. Harley's almost startled when Hap's gravelly voice sounds from beside her again. "Y'know, I forget how much you probably don't know or realize about us. Obvious stuff like that that you maybe just never thought about differently, cuz you didn't have a reason to. You know all the rules, the lingo, hell, you talk bikes more intelligently than some guys IN the club…. It's easy to forget that you've never actually spent time around almost any Sons other than me and your dad."

Bikes aren't quite her passion in life - she hasn't found that yet - but she's always firmly held the opinion "bikes pretty" and her father was not having a baby girl that only knows "bikes pretty" and had made sure that she actually has a solid understanding of the machine - including teaching her to ride on dirt bikes - so she can talk the talk to back her opinion up to any real enthusiast.

Laughing lightly, she takes it how it was meant - just an observation and a reminder in Hap's surprisingly subtle way that she shouldn't be too hard on herself for not knowing things that she had no real way of knowing. "Man, I realize it all the time. One of my first nights at the casino, my trainer and I got assigned one of the high-stakes poker rooms, and there were a few Sons in there. It threw me for a fuckin' loop. I had never even considered the possibility of randomly running into Sons just... out and about. It was like I had this weird association that the club is at the clubhouse, so why would I see them playing high-stakes poker at the Palms?" she tells him the story, recalling the odd night nearly a month before. "Then I realized, just after that, that I know who they are - at least tangentially, who they are to you and my dad - but they have absolutely no idea who I am. I'm pretty sure they don't even know I exist. I've only been to the clubhouse once, and only 1 person talked to me, and all I did was leave a message for my dad. Not that I told them he's my dad." OK, maybe that first beer is hitting her harder than she thought and she hadn't noticed, this is getting a bit rambly. She stops her motor mouth.

Happy is still looking at her intently. After a weirdly heavy moment, he asks, "When did you see Sons playing high stakes poker at the Palms? Exactly."

Harley gets the feeling she'd said something she shouldn't have. "Wait, is that something I'm not supposed to talk about? I thought because you-"

He waves for her to stop before telling her, "No, you're allowed to tell me. I just need a little more info. When?"

Doing the calculations, she tells him, "Uhhhh, 2 weeks ago, I think. It was my third night, so…." she makes a 'pfffft' noise to punctuate her final thinking phase. "Wednesday the 13th. Well, starting the evening of the 13th. They didn't leave until…. Around 2:30, I think? Little over an hour before me and Aubrey took last call for our shift."

"Who else was there?" Happy asks calmly, in a slightly eery voice she doesn't recognize from him. "Did they win, lose a lot? Talk a lot to anyone in particular? Do you remember any patches other than the standard rockers?"

Wracking her brain, Harley closes her eyes and tries to focus her memory. "Um….. There was 3 tables, all with separate games, when I came on at 9. There was one Son at each of them. I didn't really have any way of looking at the front of their kuttes, but I remember a couple of their tattoos?" she opens her eyes looking at him questioningly, seeing his eyes light up. At his nod of encouragement, she keeps going gesturing to the area of her arms as she describes distinctive pieces she saw. "Third guy had long sleeves on," she says apologetically. "I can tell ya he was drinkin' watered down whiskey all night, but that's pretty common, and nothin' really stood out about him."

"That's good. You're doin' good." Happy still has that flat, cold tone, but it now mixed with some kind of preoccupation. "What about the others in the room? Do you know who any of them were? Hear anything they discussed?"

Shaking her head slowly, she tells him all she can remember. "There was a couple real old white guys, that I saw around for about a week, so I assume they were just rich old fucks on vacation. Handful of not-as-old white guys that seemed like country club types. About the same amount of flashy, not-quite-middle-aged guys in suits that cost as much as a car, lookin' to swing their dicks around for each other. 8 or 9 Asian dudes, definitely in 2 separate groups, though. Sat at different tables, weirdly didn't even make casual eye contact once, not even when the first group left and passed right by the other one. I think there was some rapper and his posse there, too, at least for awhile. I think they got bored after like 3 hands and left." Shaking herself back on track again, she stops rambling and answers the other part of his question. "Didn't pay much attention to the conversation, or the game. I was technically in training, so Aubrey was walking me through stuff and my feet were killing me on my first long shift in heels."

"What time did the second group of asians leave?"

"1ish." she says with some confidence. "I went out for a break and came back and they were gone. After that the actual game got more serious. It was down to the 3 Sons, and 4 of the various white dudes of the country club and dick-swinging varieties."

"Have you seen the Sons back since?" is his next question.

"Well, no, but I haven't worked a high-roller room since then either. Wait staff get rotated through to spread around the opportunity for bigger tip nights." she explains. "I'm pretty sure I only even got that night because my trainer, Aubrey, was up for rotation."

Happy doesn't seem upset, but he's slowly morphing back into the version she knows, though he keeps asking questions. "When are you in there next?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Don't know. We don't get our section assignment for the night until we're clocked in and ready to hit the floor. And I'm still pretty new, so I probably need to earn a little cred on the main floor before I get put on the rotation." musing, she thinks back to what Aubrey had told her after their shift ended that night. "Unless people start requesting me in a particular room. I've heard they'll pull in guests' favorite staff if they're big spenders."

Nodding, he makes one request before dropping the subject. "If you see more Sons, or any other MC, in there, remember as much as you can and call me as soon as you can get to your phone and talk safely, a'ight?"

"Okay?" she agrees, confused. What's the big deal with a few guys betting high stakes poker?

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

Mid-September 1998 - Las Vegas

"Just got a call from the back office. After you deliver these, head back to poker room 8." her bartender, Andrew, tell her as he helps her clear her tray of empty glasses and load it up again.

She stares at him for a moment's pause before starting to move again, asking, "Did they say why?" She's actually having a pretty good night in the section she's been assigned. For some reason, blackjack players seem to love her.

He shrugs, starting to empty glasses and load them into his dish racks. "Maybe someone had to go home sick, maybe there's a request for you, might just be busy and they need extra hands. Could be anything."

It's been a few weeks since her odd conversation with Happy, and she's now been working here almost a month and a half. She and Aubrey had become good work friends, Aubrey insisting on driving her home anytime their shifts align. It's the first time she's ever been completely pulled off the floor to go cover a different floor though. Sent home early because it's dead, sure, reassigned a different section mid-shift, absolutely. But this is a first, and only the second time she'll be in one of the high-stakes rooms.

After distributing drinks quickly to prevent anyone from putting in another order with her, Harley drops her tray off at the waitress station and ducks into the back to refresh her makeup before heading to the poker rooms.

Learning from her unknowing mistake last time, the first thing she does is scan the room, this time immediately spotting the kuttes at the tables. A lot of them, actually. There's nearly a dozen scattered around the room. This room is bigger than the one she and Aubrey had worked last time, more in the medium-spender, general poker players range than the high-rollers. One particular kutte - or, rather, the person it's on - catches her eye and she curses under her breath before heading straight to the pit with the room boss and 2 assistants watching the tables for signs of cheating.

"Good, you're here. A few of our gentlemen in leather requested you." the boss says after looking at her nametag.

"Um, yeah, about that. I didn't know my dad's in town, and he's in here playing. Is that a problem? I don't want it to look like-" she starts, just loud enough for him to hear.

His slightly bushy eyebrow twitches up briefly before he interrupts her. "Normal rules, just no quiet conversation." he says it in a way that she knows she'll be watched extra closely. "Who is he?"

"Harley, what the fuck are you wearing?!" the exclamation is perfectly timed. Harley only smiles tightly at the room boss, who waves her off to start doing her job.

Starting with the table her father is at, now quiet after his little outburst, she leans down to tap a kiss on her father's cheek as he glares at her. Or, more specifically, her dress. "It's just a dress, dad." she tells him, standing straight again and pulling out her order pad and a pen. "You want a beer, or whiskey?" she asks.

Instead of answering, he keeps glaring, saying, "You haven't worn dresses since you were 6 and took a pair of scissors to every one in your closet."

Rolling her eyes, she writes down beer for him. Adding whiskey to an already sour mood won't end well. "Well, this is my uniform for work, not hopping on your bike to spend the weekend in Tahoe."

"That can be your uniform for hoppin' on my ride for a weekend anytime, sweetheart." is the comment from a guy maybe in his early 30s, also in a kutte, as he smiles lasciviously at her.

Thankfully, this turns her father's glare to his brother and frees her up to start taking orders, finding out along the way that one of the guys from last time had remembered her name and they'd talked about her enough at the clubhouse - she isn't sure she wants to know what was said - that the boys here tonight had requested her. There is more than one expression of surprise from the leather-clad men of varying ages that she's Quinn's daughter, and a couple very thoughtful looks that she doesn't think have anything to do with her legs poking out of the bottom of the dress.

"So, doll, how long you been in Vegas?" comes the question from one member at a table next to her father's.

Smiling her default waitress smile, she answers, "My whole life." She has lines at what she'll share with or in front of customers, but that's an innocuous-enough piece of information that she answers it when it gets asked regularly. Gotta at least give enough to seem friendly or your tips will be mediocre at best.

There's plenty of other guys besides the club members there as well, and their reactions now that it's known at least room-wide that she's the daughter of one of the bikers is mixed. Many are curious, many more avoid eye contact, obviously terrified of the massive figure that is her dad pounding them into the ground if he thinks they're looking at her in a way he doesn't like. Harley mentally gripes that the club better tip well, because she's not bound to get much from the rest of the room. She would've done better out on the floor with the average-Joe blackjack players.

Coming back with a massive tray with her first 2 tables of drinks loaded onto it, she overhears the member that had flirted with her again addressing her father.

"Man, how the hell did YOU make such a fuckin' knockout?" he's clearly winding her dad up. "And why didn't we know about her before?"

"None o' your fuckin' business, is why." Rane bites out at Zippy, not answering the question, if only because he doesn't want to face that his little girl is no longer a little girl, and, in that little black dress with heels and her hair and makeup done, does in fact look the part of 'knockout'.

It ends up being a very long night for Harley. She'd only been scheduled until midnight, but ends up staying until the room closes down at 3, leaving her hurting after a 9-hour shift when she'd only been anticipating 6. Tips end up being alright, nothing to brag about. Some people didn't tip or barely gave her anything, others tipped overly well in some vain effort to look good to the bikers that weren't paying them any attention except her dad making sure no one got fresh with her.

Aubrey isn't working tonight, so she makes her way out the main entrance alone, back in her street clothes, and isn't surprised to find her still-annoyed father waiting at one end of the valet pull-through. She doesn't argue, simply putting on his helmet when he hands it to her and stuffing her bag in a saddle bag before getting on the bike.

At home is where the argument starts.

"I don't like you working places where you have to dress like that." Rane starts as they settle in.

Sighing, Harley points out, "It's not like it's indecent, dad. I'm pretty well covered. But, if you'd prefer, I can go apply at Circus Circus instead."

His glower intensifies, obvious knowing to what she's referring. "No." he grunts out eventually. "At least you're somewhere that we're friendly with the management. It could be worse, I guess." Let it never be said that Rane is an unreasonable man. He'd taken the hint that she could be doing a lot worse and recognizes the truth. That doesn't mean he has to like it, though. "Club's curious about you now."

She shrugs, not knowing how to react to that. "All the guys who you've introduced me to so far have been. You weren't gonna be able to keep me from them forever, dad, you had to know this was coming."

"I just thought I'd have at least a little control over the situation. And not spend all day listening to Jerry and Hack drool over some waitress that's apparently crazy hot and has a cool name, only to find out the hard way it's my damn daughter."

OK, she supposes that's fair enough.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd seen the guys there before?" is the follow up.

Looking at him curiously, she tells him, "I told Hap weeks ago. Figured if you needed to know, he'd tell you."

Now Rane is curious. "And what'd he have to say about it?"

"Not much." she says honestly. "He asked me some questions and told me to call him if I saw more Sons or any other MC in there. Speaking of…" she moves to retrieve her phone from her bag.

Rane watches, now very curious what this conversation is going to sound like. Hap's not much of a talker, and he's never seen the man and his daughter interact since that initial meeting, though he knows Happy is here more than he is. He wonders exactly how friendly the 2 have become.

"Hey, it's me." she says a minute after hitting the dial button and putting the phone to her ear. "You said to call if any other Sons came into the casino."

"No, lots of guys this time, including dad."

"No, nothing like last time. Bigger room, lower rollers, lots of people. Kinda seemed like a boys' night out." she looks to her dad, who purses his lips at the odd-sounding conversation, but nods to confirm that it had, indeed, been a casual poker night. He'll have to follow up with Hap about what 'last time' was that has him suspicious. "Dad says boys' night out." she says into the phone.

She rolls her eyes a moment later. "Yeah, he's here. You think he wasn't gonna stick around and give me a ride home after his brothers spent hours interrogating him, then riling him up over me?"

Rane listens with half an ear as she moves into the kitchen, rustling around for a snack, as the conversation turns more casual, with her asking after Hap's mom, and seeming to answer questions about her recent days. She is speaking very familiarly, not explaining much about who people are as she talks about them, and Rane realizes suddenly that the brother he'd asked to watch out for her months ago may actually know more about her current life than he does, and he doesn't know how to feel about that.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

Early February 1999 - Las Vegas

Harley has come to love and hate the nights the Sons are in the casino.

Word that she's Rane's kid had spread like wildfire, and they call her in every time the Sons are in a back room gambling now, which is usually at least once every other week. The Sons are shitty tippers and they tend to put everyone else on edge if there's more than a few of them, which means she's rarely having a good night in the poker rooms. At least, not in cash. There are always mysterious 'bonuses' on her paychecks after they've been in, so obviously they are either saying something to management, or management just gets that she keeps the Sons happy and recognize that she could be making more money those nights elsewhere in the casino.

The Sons, on the other hand, trust her, which is why they make a habit of asking for her. She doesn't have to be told by Happy or her dad that the local charter simply trusts her more than some random waitress to a) not poison their drinks and b) keep her mouth shut if she sees or hears anything about their business, or, alternatively, open it if she hears something that might affect the club when they aren't there.

They always razz her about not coming to the clubhouse to hang out, but she always just smiles and waves it off, saying she's too busy with work or wants her off nights to just veg on the couch.

It's even mostly true.

After a few months of working at the casino and hearing various things, she'd gotten curious. She'd heard talk of card-counters, and idly dropped a couple curious questions with one of the dealers she's friendly with, who had explained basically what it is.

Math had always been her thing in school, so she's intrigued. Stopping at the out-of-the-way bookstore to pick up the apparently-infamous book that had been mentioned in passing had been an idle interest. At least, until she picked up a couple used statistics textbooks for reference, then actually started scribbling down some of the formulas. After that, she started paying some attention to the card games going on around her at work when it was slow enough, seeing if she could do it in her head.

It takes her awhile to become familiar enough with the concepts and start being able to run the formulas mentally. She has no real intention of trying it for real, it's more of a fun way to exercise her brain a little while she runs drinks around, or keep occupied if she happens to be having a slow night. Being able to anticipate who may be tipping well is a perk. She couldn't try at the casino if she wanted to, anyway. The law is you have to be 21 to gamble in casinos, and she's still very much 18, no matter if there's always beer in fridge courtesy of Happy.

Then, completely by accident at the beginning of February, after months of working on it just for fun, she finds out about the loophole.

See, the law is a funny thing, as she later finds out. It states that you have to be 21 to gamble in a casino in the state of Nevada, and that seems pretty straightforward…. Until you look up the legal definition of a casino. That same dealer friend that had unknowingly gotten her interested in card counting also picks up shifts at smaller card halls off strip, and had regaled Harley with the story of how HE had recently found out that, legally, card halls are not considered casinos, and you only have to be 18 to gamble, as long as there's no slots, bingo, sports betting, or electronic gambling games in the facility.

Sitting in the public library, doubling-checking the facts of what he's told her, she's fairly certain he's right, and knows that she has to try. At least once, just to see if she can do it. She has to be careful, though. By now, she's seen a couple schmucks roll through and get both kicked out and banned, and suspects one of them got much worse, for getting cocky, or greedy. So, she works out a plan to avoid that.

Harley feels insane for even trying this as she parks her nondescript, gently used Accord - acquired back around Thanksgiving after asking Happy to take her to a used car lot to and him checking out under the hood - in one of the lots a bit off the strip and makes her way to a popular cards-only place. It's less noisy than walking into one of the big casinos, but there's still quite a crowd at 8pm on a Friday that she happened to get scheduled off, so it's far from quiet.

The next few hours go…. smoothly, much to her astonishment. Her ID is checked when she first goes to the cage to trade in the $200 she'd allotted herself for the night for chips of various denominations, and she picks a relatively quiet blackjack table off in one corner near the bathrooms and one of the entrances to the kitchen, sitting with the two other people there and joining in the next round.

The anxiety of all of it makes it hard for her to keep track of the math in her head, but, after almost 2 hours of swaying between hitting and missing, she starts to calm down.

By midnight, she's gotten the hang of it, but is still careful to keep herself in check. No need to get over-enthusiastic and tip her hand. She'd had a little winning streak, then deliberately followed it with a small losing one, keeping her bets small and the payouts moderate. Around 1, she's up by $100 overall and decides to call it quits, no one blinking twice or asking questions when she cashes out at the cage.

Harley spends the whole next day thinking, carefully considering if she's really going to do this.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

June 1999 - Las Vegas

Andrew, one of the full-time bartenders at the Palms that she works with frequently, snores on the other side of the bed, out cold, as Harley thinks about how and when her life had changed so drastically.

She knows it's largely her own doing, and she isn't even upset about almost any of it, but part of her does sometimes long for simpler times, a spare year ago when she'd just been a waitress at some diner in her 'hood out in Whitney.

The club boys still request her whenever they're in the casino for whatever - business or pleasure - and she'd made her name with a few of the room bosses by dealing with them so effectively, so she has regular shifts in various high-stakes rooms even when they aren't around. The guys also still try and get her to the clubhouse regularly, but are less fervent, probably having been 'talked to' by Rane and/or Hap that they need to back off, that Rane doesn't want her at the clubhouse if it can be helped.

Seeing her being apparently favored, many of the other waitresses at work are a little chilly toward her, so she only has a few friends among them, thankfully still including Aubrey. Harley and Andrew had gone out on a handful of dates before both blurting out near-simultaneously that the romantic spark just isn't there. The physical one, however, is, so they keep a friends-with-benefits arrangement, hooking up once in awhile when their schedules allow it.

Harley hadn't had a ton of experience with dating, but she'd had a few boyfriends for short periods of time before she'd moved out, one of whom she'd even slept with a few times. So she wasn't a virgin before this, but it's her first remotely adult relationship, and it's already a somewhat complicated one. On top of that, it's just slightly…. underwhelming. Andrew knows basically what he's doing and the sex is… fine..., but her relatively inexperienced opinion is that it could also be a lot better.

She stops her thoughts there, knowing where that path will lead - straight to Happy with his gruff voice and dark eyes and rough, callused hands. She and Andrew may not be dating, but it still feels disrespectful for her to be fantasizing about another guy when the one she'd just fucked is literally still in bed next to her.

That avenue closed, Harley's thoughts turn to what is easily the most complicated thing in her life.

Having watched her mom struggle with addictions, including one to gambling, for so many years, she's careful to always go into a session with a healthy dose of fear and caution. She's careful. Almost excessively careful, even. Varying her schedule and what card rooms she goes to, making sure she has losing nights - even if it's just $40 or $60, it goes a long way toward looking like she's not gaming anyone - and, probably the most important thing, varying how much she wins, where, how fast, and how often. She even makes sure to not go to the same dealers too often.

The most unbelievable part to her is that she's getting away with it, but she has begun, after about 4 months, to build a rapport with certain people that she sees routinely at the various places she goes. Since she changes it up frequently, it's taken awhile to be recognized as a new regular, but the cage jockeys now know her at her usual haunts. It's not uncommon for her to joke with them as she arrives or leaves changing cash and chips, and she has very cautiously curated a reputation for being a small-better who knows to quit when she gets ahead, or before she gets too far behind.

It's not a way to make a profit fast, but for a kid that grew up with very little, the extra couple hundred a week is a virtual landslide in combination with her generally good-tipping job at the Palms. No, she's not in any hurry for a big payday. A lot of little paydays slowly adding up is plenty.

The amounts she wins are well under the threshold for what the facilities are required to report to the government when someone wins big, meaning she can deposit her winnings in her bank account with her tip money, or just keep the cash, and, as far as the tax man knows, she just has occasional really good tip nights - completely normal for a Vegas waitress. People that have had a couple too many drinks and have money to burn will hand a pretty waitress chips for tips barely even looking at the amount on the little piece of plastic.

Realizing she's not going to be able to sleep - she rarely nods off for more than a couple hours when she stays with Andrew anyway - Harley carefully gets out of bed and pulls her clothes back on before grabbing her bag and leaving, reaching behind her and around the closing door to lock the handle behind her as she steps into the hallway of his apartment complex.

The streets are deserted in the pre-dawn, one of the few times that the city is relatively quiet, even if it never sleeps.

"Where you been?" the sleepy, raspy voice asks from the dark living room as she tries to close and lock the door silently, having seen Hap's bike in it's usual spot on her way in. Obviously, he'd been dozing and waiting up for her, and she feels bad, but not too much, because she had no idea he was in town.

"I hung out with a friend after work." is her simple, soft-spoken reply as she sheds her jacket and steps out of her shoes, now less careful to keep quiet since he's already up anyway.

His warm presence appears behind her as she hangs her jacket up on the hooks by the door. "Hung out, huh?" he says blankly before audibly sniffing, mostly for effect, before saying, "Does hanging out mean fucking now?"

With an annoyed sigh and roll of her eyes, she turns away from him to start walking towards the back. "So what if I went for a booty call? It's no one's business but mine."

Before she knows what's happening, Happy is spinning her, pressing her back against the wall in the short hallway, body plastering against hers, and she can feel his soft breath as he leans in to mutter in her ear. "May not be my business, but if he was doin' it right, you'd still be there for round 3 or 5 in the morning, not creepin' out as soon as he fell asleep."

Harley can't stop a shiver from running down her as his rust-coated voice seems to caress a line straight from her ears to her groin. She faintly smells whiskey on him up this close, and tells herself it's just that and being half-asleep making him do this. There's no way he'd be like this sober and awake.

Forcing herself to move out to one side, he drops his arm on that side to let her go, but otherwise doesn't give her any more space. "Well, my other immediate option is doin' it myself for about the same result, and who doesn't get sick of their own hand after awhile?" she asks rhetorically even as she takes advantage of the situation to get a good feel of his hard body against hers as she slowly slides out from between him and the drywall.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

June 1999 - Las Vegas

Happy doesn't know what had pushed him to do it.

Actually, that's a lie.

The moment she'd quietly closed the front door, his eyes had popped open and registered the murky pre-dawn light outside the window. It had taken only walking near her to get a whiff of the lingering scent of sex and aftershave, and he knew immediately what had kept her out after work.

And that pissed him off.

Some sneaky part of his brain that he hadn't realized was so active had taken his previously acknowledged feelings of kinda liking Harley and apparently morphed them into something that made the jealousy beast rage at the thought of another man touching her. It's now a silently acknowledged fact that they are attracted to each other, but that they can't do anything about it, and he relishes it as much as he knows she does as she slowly drags her body across his as she removes herself from where he'd unthinkingly pinned her against the wall.

Happy listens to her go into her room and shut the door behind him and off to the left, clenching jaw and fists to keep himself in check. No matter how much he wants to, there's no way he can go in there and offer to show her what a real man will leave her feeling like. He's pretty sure she'd take him up on it. And it would effectively be his death warrant.

Rane had been pissed when the club had found out about her, especially how the guys would talk about her. Hap hadn't been thrilled about the way they talked about Harley either. Both men had spent more than one night in the ring after that, wailing on brothers that couldn't keep their traps shut.

The things he imagines his Prez would do to any brother that actually followed through on any of the things they thought about her even make Happy a little queasy, and he can stomach pretty much anything.

'Who doesn't get tired of their own hand, indeed….' he thinks, pausing only to take a washcloth from the linen closet before heading into the second room to handle his own business and try to wipe away the mental image of her across the hall in her own bed, hand between her legs, rubbing at a pretty little pink pussy….

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

October 2001 - Bakersfield & Las Vegas

Happy's repacking his saddlebags with the clothes his mother had insisted on laundering while he was here visiting, preparing to take off for Tacoma with a stop in Charming, when his phone rings. This is far from an unusual occurrence. For a guy that doesn't talk much to most people, he gets a lot of phone calls - it's part and parcel of being in the club, doubly so for being a Nomad.

"Yeah?" he answers without bothering to look who's calling him.

As such, he's unprepared to hear Harley's voice at 7am. Generally working the very late shifts at the casino, she's often only been asleep a few hours, max, at this point, and is rarely awake before noon. "How soon can you get here?" she asks in lieu of a greeting, alarming him even more.

"About 4 hours." he says automatically, very familiar with the ride from Bako to Vegas. "What happened?" he asks, snapping into club mode.

"I…" she trails off, obviously rethinking saying anything on the phone as she hedges around it while still getting her point across. "Need some help moving something large out of the apartment, discreetly."

Knowing she isn't talking about a couch, he tries to get more info from her. "How large?"

"I don't know," she spits, a little frustratedly. "How big are you?"

Bypassing his knee-jerk dick joke response, he presses, "Are you okay in the apartment alone until I get there?"

"Yeah." Harley says this confidently, at least. "Definitely."

Huffing out a breath, he throws the rest of his shit in his bags, more haphazardly than he normally would, saying, "I was about to head out, you caught me right in time. I'll be on the road in 10."

"Hap?" she says, stopping him from hanging up. "Don't tell dad."

This stops him cold. There's a body of a guy about his size in her apartment that she needs help disposing of and she wants him to NOT tell Rane? "You better have a damn good reason for that." If it ever came out and Rane found out that Happy had known and helped her and not informed him, he'd be beyond pissed.

"You know how he gets about me dating anyway, he'd go nuts…." she trails off, obviously unwilling to offer him much info either, which tells him plenty.

So the body is one of the assholes she's dated. Probably after attacking her somehow and she'd defended herself. A now-very-familiar lance of white-hot rage, laced with prickly green jealousy, shoots through him. "We'll see." he refuses to make any promises then hangs up to finish getting ready and say goodbye to his ma before hitting the road.

As he finishes his prep, he makes the necessary phone calls to change his plans - Quinn first, saying he has something personal to take care of and needs a couple days, dodging his president and friend's concerned questions, followed by Charming and Tacoma to let them know to not expect him as planned.

On the freeway, he pushes his speed as much as he dares without risking getting pulled over, making near-record time.

Parking in the lot, he leaves his bags, pausing only to hang his helmet from the handle bars before forcing himself to walk at a normal pace up to the third-floor walk-up apartment that he considers home as much as his ma's place after the past few years. He nods at a neighbor he passes in the open-air corridor, obviously heading out for work in a snazzy shirt with some logo stitched on the chest, but the floor is otherwise seemingly deserted.

Approaching the door, he discreetly pulls his piece, just in case, and finds that the doorframe is splintered at the handle, and there's some scuff marks that look like they were mostly scrubbed away, but the door is pushed shut and the building isn't in very great repair generally, so it just looks like a dirty door at a passing glance.

He twists the handle and pushes it open carefully, walking in silently, eyes darting around the interior, finding no threat, but also no Harley.

"Kitchen." her soft voice calls, obviously knowing it's him.

Replacing his Glock in the waistband of his jeans, Happy pushes the door closed again and walks into the small kitchen. Not entirely sure what to expect, pretty much anything would surprise him a little. What he actually finds also manages to impress him once he realizes what exactly he's seeing.

The body is in here. She's already wrapped it in what he recognizes as the shower curtain from the bathroom, and also rolled it on top of a few bags of ice, another couple laying lengthwise down the top of it. Harley herself has a bucket of what his nose tells him is a strong ammonia mixture, gun with a silencer screwed into the muzzle right next to it, in bright pink dishwashing gloves, scrubbing what he sees is the remains of blood spatter from the side of the fridge and the wall behind the counter.

"What happened?" he demands, taking in the scene.

"The first couple kicks to the door woke me up, so I was coming out of my room when he actually made it in." Her voice is very matter-of-fact as she relays the story. He's heard her this way a few times before, when he's found out she's been in fights for some reason or another, and, just like that first time, she reminds him strongly of her father. Happy'd known since that first time he'd seen her bruised knuckles and tried to question her that she'd be capable of killing if she had to, now he just has to wait for the shock to wear off to see how she handles the aftermath. "We were both moving, so I only caught him in the neck with the first shot, but he stopped outside the kitchen. Blood was spurting everywhere, into here. I don't think he realized he'd been hit. So I tapped him again, in the heart, and he fell in this way."

Looking at the floor and knowing there should be way more blood than the fine spatters of arterial spray he's seeing that she's cleaning up, he comments, "You've been busy."

"I started wrapping him up in the shower curtain after we hung up to get him ready for transport and realized that we probably wouldn't be able to actually take him out until it's dark, so I ran to the store and got a bunch of ice so he wouldn't start smelling or something before then. We needed a new shower curtain anyway. There's 4 more bags in the freezer for when those start melting. And blood's a pain in the ass to clean once it dries, so I figured I'd get a start on that right away."

"Where's the rags you used?" he asks.

She motions to the bucket she's still using, one rag in hand. "Only 2 that I've been alternating between. I'll soak them in bleach then wash them before I officially make them cleaning rags forever."

Turning to stare at her, he asks his next question. "How do you even know all this?" To his knowledge, this is the first time she's killed someone, or had to do cleanup for a kill, and she doesn't spend time around the club exclusively almost ever, certainly never without him or Rane present.

She actually chuckles as she dunks the rags in her hand into the bucket and rings it out. "Once I figured out what dad does for the club, and from there what all you Nomads do for the club, and confronted him about it when I was about 11 or 12, that's when he started teaching me stuff. I guess he thought, as long as I know anyway, I may as well be properly educated in how to defend myself and use weapons and cover my ass if I need to. Since the club didn't know who I was, I had to protect myself a lot, y'know?" shaking her head, Harley goes back to scrubbing. "It's almost funny, cuz I don't think he ever really thought I would use most of it, ever. It was, like, a just-in-case-slash-daddy-daughter-bonding thing."

Pausing, she blinks her eyes hard and looks critically at the wall in front of her. "Can you look around and see if I missed anywhere? I've been staring at little specks of blood for long enough that I think I'm seeing them where they don't exist." The slightly screwy sentence from the usually pretty well-spoken girl… no, she's definitely a woman by now…. tells him how tired she is. She probably didn't get more than a few hours of sleep before the jackass had busted in here, and she'd been going hard ever since. And it's Sunday, which means she probably had a long shift last night on a busy Saturday - she usually does.

Moving to stand behind her, he gently moves to pull the gloves off her hands and forearms, making her drop the rag into the bucket. When they're off, he tells her, "Go shower and get to bed. I'll finish up in here and get the door taken care of."

Harley turns and looks up at him gratefully, wrapping her arms around his waist silently and dropping her head onto his shoulder. Happy drops the rubber gloves over the rim of the bucket and returns her hug, giving in to the worry he'd been pushing aside since she'd called. After a couple minutes, she pulls back with a tired sigh. "I have to be up by 4 to get ready for work, but I'm only scheduled until 10, so I should be back by 11 to help with him." she tells him.

Shaking his head, Hap says, "Don't worry about it. Shit out here will be taken care of by the time you're up."

This assurance only makes her look at him suspiciously. Apparently being tired hasn't impaired her sharp mind that much. "By yourself?"

"No." he tells her, not elaborating.

"Hap-" she starts immediately pleading, knowing he's going to call the club in to get the body out and disposed of and the rest of the cleanup done, which means her dad eventually finding out.

"I didn't promise anything, and he needs to know, Harley." Happy cuts her off firmly.

Huffing out an ornery "Fine…." she turns to head for the shower as directed.

Once she's in the bathroom and he can hear her in the shower, he pulls out his cell phone to make the first call to the club. When the phone rings out to voicemail for Laz, the Vegas prez, he doesn't leave a message, instead hanging up and immediately redialing, this time the SAA, Zippy.

"Yeah?" comes the so-common greeting.

"Hey, it's Hap. I need the prospect or whoever you can spare, and the van, for a few hours."

There's a pause, Zippy not knowing quite what to make of the request. He hadn't even known Happy was in town. "For?"

"Discreet cleanup and repair at Quinn's place." is Happy's simple reply, not giving any unnecessary information.

"Quinn's place?" Zip's obviously still confused, but Happy can hear the background noise changing as he moves around, probably through the clubhouse to find people.

Not giving up any more intel, he finds the tape measure in the junk drawer in the kitchen and moves out to measure the door while he's still on the phone. "Yeah, and I need whoever comes to pick up a door from Home Depot on the way." He rattles off the measurements and that it should be an off white color, and a list of other miscellany he needs as well to complete the repair.

"Sounds like someone kicked a door in." Zippy observes after Happy stops talking. They are all, of course, intimately familiar with the damage of kicking doors in.

Not responding to that, Happy next rattles off the address and how to access the alley in back, since they'll need to take the body down the back stairs that are normally only used to take out garbage. "Third floor, apartment 304." he hangs up on the local SAA without further discussion, not looking forward to the next call.

Putting the tape measure, he leans against the counter and looks down at the body, wrapped in plastic and on ice - literally - as he listens to the phone ring.

"Hap." Quinn answers. "You in Charming?"

"No, Vegas." Hap starts.

There's a pause. "They didn't call me for anything. Thought you were headed up to Tacoma for awhile?" He's confident that Happy would never disrespect him by doing anything inappropriate with his daughter, but changing plans unexpectedly like this is extremely out of character for the taciturn man, and their close friendship does make him look sideways at them occasionally. Proverbially, anyway. He never actually sees them physically together.

"I was about to leave my ma's to head up there when Harley called. One of her exes broke in. She took him out." he takes the Band-Aid approach, spitting out the basics fast. "She's fine. I just sent her to shower and go back to bed while me and the boys finish cleaning up."

The silence is heavy. For a few minutes, Happy hears only Quinn's deliberate breathing, far too even to be anything but him consciously controlling it to try and calm down, and the distant sound of people chattering in the background. "Back to bed?" the man eventually picks the conversation back up.

"She was asleep when he got here, woke up when he was kickin' the door in. Amateur. Took him multiple hits. She called me almost immediately after, then started cleaning. All me an' the boys really need to do is take care of the body and replace the door. Maybe give the kitchen a last once-over." Heaving out a breath, he continues to try and reassure the guy. "I already called Zippy, he's sendin' someone to Home Depot then here. We'll take care of everything."

"I know, brother." Quinn's voice is still tight. "How's she doin' with it?"

This makes Hap chuckle before explaining. "Man, she's definitely your kid. Not like there was ever a question about that from me, but… She's doin' fine so far. I'll stick around a few days and keep an eye on 'er, but I think she'll be cool."

He hears Quinn snort. "I don't know if that's comforting or disturbing." There's a familiar flicking sound as Rane lights up a cigarette before continuing. "Man, I'm still up in Detroit, I don't know when I can make it down…"

"I got it, bro." Happy reiterates. "Not like I was headed up to Tacoma for any real reason. Unless somethin' comes up, I can hang out, and you know LV never turns down extra dirty hands. Keep your brain up there until the turf shit is settled. I got your girl."

He doesn't know how comforting that is to the older man - he knows bein' a parent is just fuckin' different - but Rane is really needed up there right now, and distraction could be fatal in turf disputes. "Thanks, brother."

Short goodbyes are said before they hang up, and Happy realizes he can't hear the shower anymore, so he goes to check on Harley. Her door isn't shut all the way, so he pushes it open enough to stick his head in, finding her in fresh PJs, hair still wet, passed out with her blinds shut tight against the intrusive midday desert sun, allowing only the tiniest pin-beams of light to dapple a section of her bed.

Satisfied she's sleeping peacefully, he backs out and gently shuts the door, moving out front to fetch his bags, then smoke a cigarette leaning against the railing overlooking the parking lot while he waits for the prospect, or whoever Zippy's sending. He doesn't smoke much, but sometimes, he just needs to calm his nerves, so he keeps a pack in the pocket of his kutte.

After awhile, the prospect and Zippy himself walk up the back stairwell, and Hap thinks he should've guessed. Zip's always been curious as hell about Harley, and the whole situation of Rane having a daughter in town that no one knew about for nearly 20 years.

"Keep it down," he tells them even as he opens the door for them to carry the new one in. "Harley's asleep in the back."

The prospect looks toward the back as they lean the new door up against the wall just inside, a slightly disturbed look on his face, glancing toward the wrapped feet of what is clearly a body that he can see in the kitchen from his vantage point. "There's a body in here and she's sleeping?"

"You think Quinn's kid will have a problem with bodies? Who do you think did most of the cleanup already?" Hap says in a 'are you fucking dumb' tone even as he hands the kid a screwdriver and points at the old door. "Get to work."

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

July 2002 - Tacoma

A shrill ringing pulls Happy from his whiskey-induced light coma. Except the pounding headache and cottonmouth, he feels surprisingly good. Yesterday, he'd been released after a 6-month stay in one of Washington's state penns, and the party had, per Sons SOP, been nuts. He'd lost track of how many drinks he'd had, as well as how many times he'd pulled one of the handful of sweetbutts he can stand back to the bathrooms over the course of 6 or so hours.

Per his personal SOP, none of them made it back to his room. That much he remembers, and confirms just in case by stretching out across the bed and not finding anyone.

The sound starts again and he realizes it's his cell phone.

Fumbling slightly on the nightstand, he grabs it and answers it sleepily. "What?"

The soft, happy voice he hasn't heard in a few weeks since he'd last called her from inside sounds excited. "Is your door unlocked?"

"Huh?" is his confused grunt. The fuck is she talking about.

Harley laughs, and he thinks he must still be drunk, because he swears he hears it slightly in stereo. "Your dorm room door. Is it unlocked?" she reiterates.

"I don't fucking know." he sighs out, wondering what this ridiculous line of questioning is about. "I was piss drunk last night."

"Well are you alone?" is her next question.

This at least he can answer easily and with confidence. "Yeah."

Without warning, his door swings open, answering the question of whether it's locked or not - it's not. Happy blinks hard, phone still against his ear, as he tries to process what he's seeing. "The fuck?"

Harley removes her own phone from her head, clicking the button to disconnect and shoving it into her purse, which she drops unceremoniously along with her bag on his dresser as she pushes his door shut. "Really? I haven't seen you in 7 months, you thought I wasn't gonna come congratulate you on getting out?" When Happy only keeps staring at her from his position in the bed, she rolls her eyes, cocking a hip and resting her hand on it. "Man, see if I ever take time off and drive 16 hours to visit you again…."

"The fuck did you do to your head?" she continues after a moment, moving to kick off her sandals and unbutton the denim cutoff shorts she's wearing.

"Think I'm gonna tat my skull, needed to see if I look like a fuckin' idiot bald or not." he replies, watching, still not really processing, wondering if he's still asleep as she piles the shorts on her bag and pulls off her bra from under the tank top she's wearing, throwing that over the pile as well before moving toward the bed. He suddenly becomes very aware that he's pretty sure he's naked under the light blanket on the bed.

She doesn't seem to care about his possible lack of clothing as she confidently lifts the other side of said blanket and climbs into his bed, the first woman to do so in… a couple years, now that he thinks about it.

"Well, it's still fucking early, and I just drove all day and night. Go back to sleep." Harley commands bossily, making herself comfortable next to him, but not cuddling up to him or anything.

Happy flips his head slowly towards his nightstand to finally replace his phone there and look at the alarm clock. 6 fucking 30. Ugh. Yeah, definitely sleeping for a few more hours, at least. Closing his eyes again, his last thought before passing back out is that he'll figure out what the hell is going on when he wakes up for real.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

July 2002 - Tacoma

The next thing to wake Happy is the sound of bustling people and chattering voices in the hall.

He's partially awake, but resisting full consciousness due to how comfortable he is, when a pounding starts on his door and Kozik's annoying, perpetually-cheerful voice calls for him to get the fuck up.

Automatically calling back to his friend to fuck off, he listens to the laughter slowly move down the hallway with the faint sound of footsteps as he snuggles closer to the soft, warm body he's wrapped around.

Happy's eyes pop open at that.

With a glance around the room, he recalls the brief minutes of consciousness in the early morning hours, and finds he's spooned tightly against Harley, who's surprisingly still dead to the world despite his and Kozik's noisemaking. As he'd thought when she'd climbed into bed with him, he's naked, as he usually is when he isn't expecting to need a reason to be covered when he sleeps, and the morning wood situation against her ass is real, not helped at all by the familiar, enticing scent of Harley, complemented by her usual lotion and conditioner scents of honey and mint.

Deciding that a couple minutes of indulgence isn't going to hurt anything at this point, he doesn't move except to nuzzle into her hair slightly, taking deep, slow breaths, trying to savor the moment. Her top has ridden up to bunch around her ribs, and his arm is wrapped around her middle, hand cupping around the smooth skin on the bottom of her ribcage, their legs tangled together. She's soft and warm against him, and he knows it will be even harder going forward to keep himself from following through on all the things he wants to do to her. He can't be mad at her for doing this to him though. She'd taken time off work and driven 1100 miles to come see him, and he knows she wants him as much as he wants her, so he's not in it alone.

Besides, it's not like he's about to make her stay at a hotel while she's here, and the clubhouse rules are that you have to stay with a member if you're here overnight, except during lockdowns, so what's he supposed to do, sleep on the floor?

Rane won't be happy when he finds out, but he won't be able to do much about it in this situation either, as long as Hap doesn't actually follow through on any of the things he and Harley both want.

There's a loud thud, immediately followed by loud clattering and yelled cursing as someone apparently trips right outside his room, and he feels her wake with a slight start.

Keeping his eyes casually closed and breathing slow, Happy waits to see what she's going to do.

Harley seems to take a moment to get her bearings, then cuddles back into him slightly, running her hand down the arm he has draped over her softly, and letting out a sigh that falls somewhere between content and disappointed. Hap knows the feeling.

After giving herself a minute to enjoy it, she gently starts extricating herself, and he relaxes his hold, letting her get up, listening as she rummages in her bag then goes into the attached bathroom, shared with the room on the other side. When the shower starts, he decides it's time to get up, pulling on clean boxers and jeans before locating a half-empty bottle of water and downing that until he can get into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

The backpack Harley'd brought is open on top of his dresser, and he looks down into it curiously, though he doesn't know why. He half-lives at the Vegas apartment, paying one-third of the rent, and has seen her underwear in the wash or laundry basket in the bathroom plenty of times. Maybe he's curious about how she's travelling. To his knowledge, a lot of chicks - he's not stupid enough to say all, but a lot in his experience - seriously overpack.

She doesn't seem to be one of those chicks.

Happy's pretty sure the backpack is her old one from high school, just your average dark green Jansport, and she seems to have only brought the essentials for a few days. Some underwear, a couple changes of clothes, her cell phone charger, a book, and he assumes her toiletries are in the bathroom with her.

He's pulling a tee shirt out of a drawer as she emerges from the bathroom, wiping down the bottles of hair and body product in her hands, and he shoves the drawer closed and moves so she can get to her shit. Her eyes roam over his bare torso without shame, making him smirk and not feel bad about returning the favor, checking out the slight cleavage peaking out from the top of her fresh tank top and the long legs showcased by the same pair of cutoffs from this morning.

"How long you plannin' on stayin'?" he asks casually as he finally pulls the shirt in his hands on while she deposits her stuff back in her bag and moves to towel off her long hair more.

She turns toward him, leaning on his dresser and shrugging slightly. "I have a week off, so I just need to be back by next Friday evening for work. If you have shit to do that you don't want me around for, I can take off whenever, maybe do a little roadtrip on the way back or something. I mostly just wanted to see you, and dad mentioned you can't leave the state for like 3 months, so…"

"Probation." Happy explains shortly. He'd gotten 6 months for the assault, with 3 months probation after his release. "I can leave if I get approval, but it has to be to go visit my mom or shit like that."

Harley nods understandingly. Her dad had done a couple stints for various crimes throughout her life, thankfully none of them terribly long, but she's familiar with the process. "Just let me know if I need to leave; otherwise, I'll probably take off like, Thursday morning so I can sleep before work Friday."

Thinking about the prospect of sleeping next to her for the next 6 nights, he resolves not to send her away unless he has to. "I think you'll be fine to stay." He's not even annoyed that he won't get laid for that 6 days either. None of the sweetbutts have anything on her, anyway, despite his tendency to choose ones that look vaguely like her - tallish, slender, long blonde hair. They're just warm holes, and he'd just gone 6 months without anything but his hand. 6 days is nothing.

She smiles over at him as she sets down the towel and rummages to pull a brush from the bottom of her bag, starting to brush out the long hair that he's fantasized about wrapping around his fist as he slams into her from behind so many times. He thinks she may have trimmed a couple inches off recently, but it still goes almost to her waist.

Moving toward her, Happy crowds closer than he really needs to, smirking down at her when she looks at him with a challenge in her eye. Resting one hand on her hip to keep her from moving, he reaches past her to pull the top drawer open against her ass and slips his hand into the narrow opening, pulling out a pair of socks without looking away from her face, before closing the drawer and stepping away as she continues to silently watch him while she detangles her hair.

Several minutes later, he's leading Harley down the stairs of the big converted warehouse near the trainyard that the Tacoma Sons call home, garnering some very curious looks.

Belatedly, he realizes no one likely saw her come in, and him walking downstairs with a girl, much less one no one recognizes, is, indeed, a novelty.

By the time she came in at 6:30, everyone would've been solidly passed the fuck out, either in their rooms or the main room somewhere, but doors were unlikely to have been locked, as people would've been going in and out all night. Really, the security at clubhouses once parties get crazy isn't great, but you have to be relatively close to the club to know that, so it's a trust system that no one will take advantage of it.

"Your dad know you're here?" he asks, leading her toward the big industrial kitchen set just behind the bar, where there's sure to be the remains of breakfast and a hot pot of coffee.

Snorting, she replies, "Have you heard him screaming all the way from Alabama?" So, no, then.

Happy chuckles as they enter the kitchen, making Koz, who's there, look up at him, eyes lighting up with fascination as he spots Harley and watches Happy retrieve mugs and pour them coffee. "You know he's gonna flip." Hap continues the conversation, not acknowledging his friend.

Harley rolls her eyes, accepting the mug of coffee and watching him move to grab them plates and forks before gesturing at the remains of breakfast that are indeed out on the stove. As they move to plate up, she petulantly says, "Well, he can get the fuck over it. The rule is that you or him has to be with me if I'm at a clubhouse, and here you are, so I don't see what the hell the problem is."

"You know he made that rule with only the Vegas clubhouse in mind." he says with no real feeling behind it.

"Well, then he should've specified that, and then I'd break it anyway, because I'm almost 22 fucking years old, and he can't treat me like I'm 6 forever. Even when I was 6, it's not like he had much control over me." She says before digging somewhat viciously into the lukewarm scrambled eggs.

Smiling still, Happy leans against the counter, commenting, "Yeah, isn't that about when you cut up all your dresses in protest?"

"Well, I wasn't about to spend another year looking like a goddamn baby doll at school. And mom always got mad when they got dirty at recess anyway. Skirts are so fucking impractical." she says vehemently between bites.

"Bet those legs look damn good in them, though." Kozik's voice breaks in as he joins them with his own fresh cup of coffee.

Happy had forgotten he was in there almost immediately upon entering, and he scowls over at his longtime friend. Before he can say anything though, Harley speaks up for herself, not in any way intimidated by members. Not that she has a reason to be, especially given how used to her dad and Happy she is.

"Yeah, actually, they look fantastic in a skirt and some fuck-me pumps, but you may wanna keep your mouth shut about that."

Taken aback, not used to women around the club that aren't seasoned Old Ladies being so outspoken to patched members, Koz asks, "Yeah, and why exactly is that, sweetheart?"

Harley only turns her eyes to Happy with a smirk before asking, "How much of the Vegas charter did you and daddy beat to a pulp when the boys found out about me and wouldn't shut up about my waitress uniform?"

Happy's scowl is by now deep and plastered on his face, and it's joined by a glare at Koz. "Damn near everyone. Some 2 or 3 times before they got the message to shut their fuckin' traps."

Now very confused and still taken aback, the blonde man says plainly, "I'm missing something here." gesturing between Harley and Happy.

"I'm Harley," she introduces herself amusedly.

Koz blinks at her, not getting it for obvious reasons, replying, "Kozik." to introduce himself, deliberately holding off on jokes about riding her until he knows what he's dealing with, looking to Hap for more explanation.

"Quinn's daughter." Hap grinds out.

Kozik's eyes go comically wide, darting back to her as he physically takes a step back away from her, tensing uncomfortably. "Shit. Uh. I'm so-"

She cuts him off, laughingly saying, "It's cool, you may just wanna lay off. Dad's already gonna be pissed I'm here, even if he has no reason to be, and I'd just hate for him to come take it out on any particular person. Plus whatever Happy would do to you if you didn't shut up about my legs."

He glances at Hap questioningly, seeing he's still got his 'killer' glare on even as he shoves a forkful of hash browns into his mouth. "Yeah." he acknowledges trepidatiously. Normally, he's not scared of Hap, but he's never truly been the target of the man's ire before either. They get in the ring, sure, but those are friendly bouts. Koz is confident - cocky even - but he's not delusional; he knows very well that if Happy ever put his mind to it, he'd make Koz suffer. Kozik has seen him 'at work' plenty, he knows the man's capabilities as well as his own.

Then the thought of Quinn taking issue with him registers and a pang of actual fear rolls through him. One does not become the President of the Nomad charter by being nice and diplomatic and shit. Nomads are the club 'problem solvers', and to be the leader, you have to be able to keep the most brutal men in the club in line and on track.

Swallowing hard as it finally sinks in that he's looking at the Nomad Princess, Kozik excuses himself to spread the word about who she is and dispense the advice that the guys should be exceptionally respectful. "Well, you let me know if you need anything while you're here. I'm around quite a bit."

"Will do." she replies to his retreating back. Turning back to Happy, she moves to lean next to him at the counter, bumping her shoulder against his. "So, what's there to do for fun around here?" she tries to get him back in the good mood he'd been in a few minutes before. "This is the first time I've even been out of Nevada since I was like 10. I want an actual vacation as long as I'm here."

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

July 2002 - Tacoma

"You seein' what I'm seein'?" Lee asks, sitting down next to Blue with a fresh beer, both of them looking at the nearby dart boards.

"Oh yeah." Blue confirms, sipping from his own longneck. "Sure as fuck never thought I'd see this day."

Shaking his head and watching for a moment, Lee eventually says, "You talked to Quinn?"

Blue nods. "Yesterday. He ain't too thrilled with her."

"You mention that?" Lee nods toward the spectacle Hap and the girl are unknowingly making.

Blue chuckles. "I ain't gonna responsible for that killing spree, brother."

They both sit and watch Happy and the girl that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, Harley, taking turns throwing darts at one of the boards. Their brother, having prospected and served here in Tacoma for a few years before going Nomad, is smiling more freely and chatting more than they've ever seen, finding any excuse to touch the girl. It also hasn't escaped either of their notice that she's the epitome of his type, with the possible exception of not having massive, fake tits.

Being a president's daughter, Happy could've easily asked for and received an exemption for her to have her own room while she's here, but not a word had been said about it. Instead, she's sleeping in his room with him, presumably in his bed with him, another thing that Hap isn't known for doing - allowing women in his room at all, much less to sleep next to him.

Harley's not innocent in the little flirting game they're playing either, never far from his side, teasing him, borderline blowing off anyone else that tries to break into their conversation. In fact, other than being the baseline of respectful, she seems utterly uninterested in interacting with anyone else in the clubhouse, or even being in the clubhouse period except for the fact that it's where Happy is.

Her very existence is something of an enigma. Apparently, the Vegas boys, and most of the Nomads, had known for a few years that Quinn has a daughter, but the big man had otherwise kept it under tight wraps. A call to Stan, the Vegas VP, had told Lee that she has only been to the clubhouse there a handful of times, always escorted by Happy and/or Quinn, except one time before they'd known about her when she was younger and she'd needed to get a note to Quinn. Apparently, for the past 4 or so years before Hap recently got locked up, the man had turned Vegas more or less into his home base between runs, charged with protecting her when he's in town and taking the assignment seriously. Not that that part surprises Lee, Happy's always been a dedicated brother. But his behavior towards women, at least in and around the club, has always been… well, dickish.

Lee's not an idiot, he knows Hap dated outside women when he was still full time SAMTAC, some even for awhile, but fidelity ain't his strong suit. Yet, he hasn't seen the guy sneak away for so much as a quick blowjob from a sweetbutt, and he's almost certain he isn't actually fucking the girl.

"Think he's figured it out?" he asks Blue casually after several minutes of silent observance.

Blue contemplates while he takes a slow drink from his beer before replying. "Don't know. If he has, he respects Quinn too fuckin' much to do anything about it."

Snorting, Lee asks, "Does it make me a total fuckin' sap that I'm kinda sad for 'im?"

"Nah." Blue says. "Just makes us good brothers." implying he's also a little sad that their brother can't be with the girl he's clearly head over fender in love with.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

July 2002 - Tacoma

It had taken only 2 days for them to give up any pretense behind closed doors.

So, on Harley's last night in Tacoma, they crawl in opposite sides of the bed, but don't hesitate to meet in the middle, Happy laying on his back and lifting up his arm so she can settle against his side, one leg hooking over his, head resting on his shoulder, hand running slowly over his chest as his arm settles over her shoulders.

When she keeps running her hand over him, turning her face to lay kisses on his collar bone, Happy's eyes close as he groans.

"Harley, you know we can't." he chastises her softly, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of her skull and gently pulling her head up a little to get her to stop.

Frustrated, she drops her cheek back on his shoulder as she bites out, "Yes, we can, it'll just make my massive baby of a father throw a temper tantrum if he finds out."

Turning his own head, Hap nuzzles into her hairline and pulls the fingers that were tangled in her hair through it, using the arm around her shoulders to pull her a little closer. "You know he'll find out. Cuz if we give in once, then we'll never stop, and we'll get caught eventually. And as much as I'd love to…." he trails off, gathering his strength for what he knows he has to say. "I'm not good at the relationship thing, and you deserve way fuckin' better than me, girl."

Harley snorts out a sardonic laugh. "Man, between you and my dad, why do I bother to make any decisions about my own fucking life at all. The two of you are so goddamn determined to decide what I need and what I should have that what I want or what makes me happy just doesn't fuckin' matter at all, does it?"

Feeling even more like shit, he doesn't know what to say to that. She's right, it's not fair that he and Quinn make certain decisions for her, but her being his Prez's daughter makes it a club thing, and it's so much more complicated than just two people that like each other, no matter how much they happen to like each other. He feels a single drop of moisture slide from her cheek onto his skin and feels worse than ever, but he's pretty sure the random tear leaking out is mostly out of frustration. It's a tiny consolation that he hadn't exactly made her cry.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

September 2002 - Tacoma

"Good to see you, brother." Blue greets Quinn with a hug near the bar.

Quinn pulls back with his typical friendly smile. "Good to be here. Been awhile."

Nodding, Blue says, "Yeah, between our own enforcers and how often Hap makes it up here, there isn't much call for you to come by. Not that you aren't welcome any time."

"Thanks for takin' care o' my girl when she took off to come up here. I know she was missin' Hap while he was inside, but, honestly, I got no idea what the hell she was thinkin' doin' that." Quinn says with a bewildered shake of his head.

Blue stares at the other man incredulously for a moment. Rane Quinn is not a stupid guy, but can he really have no idea how Happy and Harley look at each other? "No problem. Hell, other than her bein' here, ain't like there was much to it. She hardly left Hap's side all week, an' he was happier 'n a pig in mud. Fed her, showed her around town, stuck to 'er like superglue at parties."

Quinn chuckles. "Yeah, they've gotten to be real good friends over the years."

Fuck, he really doesn't know. "Yeah. Friends." Rane looks inquisitive at this blatantly skeptical statement, so Blue just keeps talking. "Lotta the boys didn't quite know how to handle her. Anyone that hit on her or made an off-color comment, she had less than no interest in talking to, so there was only a few people other than Happy she even interacted with, cuz there's so few daughters around, much less grown ones, that almost none o' the guys know how to talk to a woman that's not either an Old Lady or a sweetbutt. And she wasn't afraid to put 'em in their place, either, if Hap didn't beat her to it."

"She's a strong-willed one." Rane agrees. "Not intimidated by much, and she knows from the Vegas guys that bein' my daughter and havin' Happy in her corner gets her an automatic amount of status. Took them a long time to learn how to deal with her. 'Specially since they see her most when she's at work, servin' drinks for 'em at the casino." Switching topics, he asks, "How's my dwarf doin'?"

Snorting, Blue looks over to the corner table on the far side of the big space where Happy's sat with a pad of paper and a walkman, headphones on and sketching away, as he often can be found when he doesn't have shit to do, having not yet realized his President has entered the building. "We been tryin' to keep him busy, but with him not able to leave the state for a couple more weeks, he's goin' stir crazy. Only time I see him smilin' lately is-" he cuts himself off.

"What?" Quinn asks, looking at him curiously.

Shaking his head, the Tacoma President, says only, "Man, if you don't know already, I ain't gonna be the one that spills the beans. C'mon, I had the prospect get room 14 ready for ya."

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

September 2002 - Tacoma

Blue's odd comments and refusal to finish the conversation about Happy had made Quinn curious. He's here for several days to generally check in after not being here for almost a year and check on Hap while he picks up some things that need to be couriered to other chapters that Tac doesn't make regular runs to.

On his second day there, he and Hap are with Lee and a couple of the other guys at the shipyard, walking away from a meet with one of their contacts there, when Hap pulls out his phone, smiling down at the text he'd obviously received. As Blue had mentioned the previous afternoon, the younger man had been rather solemn - much more so than usual, which is a feat in itself - except for these small moments looking down at the device in his hand periodically.

Seizing his chance, Rane slows his gait to put some distance between them and the group and teases, "Smilin' down at your phone like that, looks like a girl is textin' ya." because there's literally nothing else that could explain it that he can think of.

Happy snaps the phone shut quickly, stuffing it back in his pocket with a cough, not looking at his Prez. "Uh… kinda. Harley."

An unease settles over Rane as Blue's words from the day before replay in his mind. 'She hardly left Hap's side all week, an' he was happier 'n a pig in mud.' "Oh? What's she have to say?"

His unease grows to unsettlement as Hap refuses to look at him, answering, "Not much, just checking in."

Just checking in and Hap's smiling down at his phone like it's the only good thing that's happened to him in months. More of Blue's words cross his mind. 'Yeah. Friends.' 'Man, if you don't know already, I ain't gonna be the one that spills the beans.'

Sinking feeling in his gut, Rane says, "Think you and I need to go for a ride, Son."

Happy finally meets his eyes, looking resigned, and simply nods.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

September 2002 - Outside of Tacoma

They sit on a park bench overlooking the Narrows, the chronic wind providing a bit of privacy from the handful of other people in the little oceanside park, making the most of the last vestiges of summer.

"You gonna start talkin' or should I start askin' questions neither of us wants me to?" Quinn asks after several minutes of them both silently looking out at the water.

Happy heaves out a visible sigh before saying anything. "Nothin's happened, man. Well, nothin' worth mentioning."

"Think I'll be the judge of that." Rane says firmly.

Hap cringes a little before continuing. "She stayed in my room while she was up here, but I was a fuckin' church boy the whole week, man."

"After 6 months inside?" Quinn asks incredulously.

Shrugging, Hap tells him, "She showed up the morning after my welcome home party, and after 6 months inside, and half the croweaters in the building blowing me in one night, a week without wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done." Looking over, he gets a somewhat prideful look, saying, "You know me better than that, bro. I got self-control, and mad respect for you. I wouldn't…." he looks away again, obviously about as comfortable with this conversation as Rane is.

Sighing, Rane looks away as well, back out to the water. Yeah, he knows Happy wouldn't disrespect him like that. That's why this is so hard. Because it means that, whatever's going on, it fuckin' means something, probably to Harley, too. Something a lot more than just a fuck. And that means that it isn't something that can be handled by climbing in the ring to fight then hugging it out.

So, his club brother had slept in the same room - the same bed if he's reading between the lines correctly - as his daughter, for a week, without fucking her. A week that she'd taken off of work specifically to drive up here and see him. The first trip she's ever taken on her own, and the only time she's ever been out of the city of Las Vegas or the immediate area without him, her father.

He's known they're close for a long time, but he doesn't see them together much, despite technically occupying the same apartment and even bedroom. He and Hap are rarely in the same city at the same time, and, when they are, it's even more rarely Vegas. But, thinking about everything he knows about Happy's preferences and the little things that had made him look sideways at the pair's friendship over the years, he's mentally smacking himself for not at least suspecting there might be something…. more…. there. Rane mentally steels himself, because he has to ask. He's pretty sure he already knows the answer, but he needs to hear it from Hap.

"You in love with her?"

The only immediate answer is the sound of the wind and the distant chattering of the other people in the small park, but, after a long minute, he sees Happy nod in his peripheral vision, and hears the low, quiet, "Yeah." and realizes that the other man may not have admitted it to himself before now.

Pushing himself up off the bench, Rane says, "I'll see you back at the clubhouse." before striding back to his bike.

This…. needs consideration. A lot of it. And he has a feeling Hap needs some time to think, too.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

September 2002 - Tacoma

When Happy returns to the clubhouse a couple hours later, windchilled from sitting in the park and sort of accepting that he's in love with Harley, and expecting to never be able to do anything about it, Quinn's bike isn't there. Either he's still out riding, or he'd been and gone back out already.

He walks straight up to his room, barely acknowledging the greetings he gets from the guys that are hanging around.

Locking his door and the door to the bathroom, he pulls out his phone and sits on the edge of his bed. The one she'd slept in with him, which he'd only recently washed the pillowcase on her side of once the scent of her was no longer even faintly detectable on it.

Jesus fuck, she'd stayed here a week and he considers a side of the bed and one of the pillows 'hers', how had he not realized he was in love with her before Rane had asked?

Hitting her speed dial - yup, she's speed dial 1, too - he raises the phone to his head.

"Hey!" is her greeting. "Just a sec." There's a lot of background noise wherever she is, which is slightly muffled, he assumes as she rests the phone against her shoulder while she gets to a quieter spot. It is, in fact, a couple minutes before the noise of rustling and general background noise stops though, and her voice comes back. "Sorry, I had to grab my stuff and get outside. What's up?"

Preoccupied with trying to figure out where she is, Hap realizes that he should've figured out exactly why he's calling her, and what he's going to say. Mostly, he'd wanted to hear her soft voice, but he feels like a pussy admitting that. Sighing, he says, "Had a talk with your dad today."

She's silent for a long moment, and he hears the much more sedate background noise of a moderately busy, but not packed, street, before she says simply, "Oh?" It's not stated, but he knows she's asking if he means what she thinks he means. There is, after all, no reason for him to call and tell her he'd talked to her dad about club shit.

"Yeah." he answers. "Not really sure how he's takin' it, but it's been a couple hours and he hasn't punched me yet…."

Harley'd turned 22 last month, Happy will be 30 next month, and they are both silent on the phone, just listening to each other breath like awkward 14-year-olds for a solid 4 minutes.

Eventually, she breaks their silence. "Well, I guess, when you have an answer and find yourself in Vegas, we should probably talk."

In other words, there's no point in dwelling on 'what-ifs'. Hap can't argue with that. "Yeah." he sighs out, before finding himself saying, "I miss you."

Harley's voice sounds tight as she replies, "I miss you, too, Hap."

"I'm free in a couple more weeks. Not sure where I'll be headed first, but I need to go see ma, then I'll try and get to Vegas ASAP." he tries to sound reassuring.

"You have a key for whenever you roll through. Don't make any special trips, I know I'm not important." Harley almost argues.

Unable to believe she'd even just said that, he wonders if he'd really never told her how many times he'd gone to Vegas pretty much just to spend a couple days with her. "Yeah, you are." he says earnestly.

"I should get back inside, and I'm sure you have stuff to do. I'll talk to you later." Harley sounds like she didn't believe him, but she hangs up before he can get another word in, and Happy doesn't try to call back, knowing she won't answer again.

Setting his phone on his nightstand, he flops back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking. He'd already done so much thinking that afternoon that he's working on a headache, but the conversation had set him on a whole new train of thought.

He's sure there has to be some reasoning behind why she doesn't think she's important. In fact, he can probably already name some of the reasons. Her addict mom, the fact that Rane, while a loving dad, hadn't exactly been a stable, consistent presence in her life growing up, even the fact that he's only there when he isn't needed elsewhere…. Yeah, he can see where she would get the idea she isn't a priority.

But how the hell is he suppose to convince her of how important she is? It's not like he can just rearrange his life. Even if he jumps to the Vegas charter, the club will still always come first, and he, frankly, wouldn't be happy there full time. And Hap knows himself well enough to be aware that he'd take that out on her, which wouldn't be fair at all. Vegas, while seeing a fair amount of action, are primarily muscle for one of the major local mob families in addition to running a brothel, and the families have pretty good control of the local territory. Their shit is so routine that he'd be bored inside a few months. It's fine when he's in town visiting; there's always people that need beating and occasionally killing for him to jump in and help on, but as a permanent thing, it would drive him insane to do almost nothing but that day in and day out.

Maybe she would consider moving? Even if she came up to Tacoma, or lived close to his ma or Charming, he'd be able to see her even more than he already does.

But is asking her to pick up her whole life for him any more fair?

God, this isn't even a thing yet, and it's already fuckin' complicated.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

November 2002 - Vegas

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, Rane walks into the apartment in Vegas, wondering what exactly he's going to find. He'd not been surprised to find Hap's bike here. The man generally spends actual holidays with his family if there's nothing else pressing that keeps him at a clubhouse, but, now, more than a day after the holiday, is he shocked that he'd made his way here? No, not particularly.

It's early afternoon, and he finds Harley effectively a sleepy lump on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and staring blankly at something on the tv, while he can hear Happy in the kitchen, and smell…. French toast?

Leaning down to kiss Harley on the forehead, he says, "Hey, baby girl." and gets an indistinct grunt in reply. He knows she must not have slept well. Otherwise, she's coming down with something. While not necessarily a 'morning' person, she's usually pretty quick to wake up and be active once she's awake, not one for laying around.

Leaving his bags by the chair in the living room for the moment, he goes into the kitchen, returning Happy's greeting nod.

It's the first time they've been in the apartment at the same time in… a long time.

"I'll clean my shit outta the room when I'm done in here. I'll head to the clubhouse tonight." Hap says automatically.

Swallowing his pride, and giving the first real response to the elephant that had been between them for months now, Rane tells him, "Go ahead and put your shit in Harley's room." Happy freezes, spatula in hand as he tends the food on the stove, eyes gluing themselves to Rane's face. With a sigh, Quinn keeps qualifying, "I'm… still working on bein' okay with it, but you've already managed to share a room with her without me around to beat the shit out of you and otherwise behave yourself. No reason for you to truck all your shit to the clubhouse. You pay rent here too, ain't very fair for me to kick you out just by bein' in town." Before his brother can say anything, he changes the subject slightly. "She doesn't feel like she has a fever, so I take it she didn't sleep too good last night?" he nods his head toward the door out to the living area.

Happy glances that that direction as well with a sigh and a frown, before shaking his head and moving to flip the eggy bread in the pan. "Woke up with nightmares twice. Wouldn't tell me what about."

Moving to get himself something to drink, Rane nods understandingly with no idea whether Hap is looking at him to see it. "Yeah, they've started happening more since she took that asshole out. Not near as often as when she was little, but still." After a sip of the coffee he'd poured, he keeps explaining. "She don't remember 'em when she wakes up, so don't bother pushin' her about it."

"So, this is normal?" Happy asks. "I've never seen her like this before."

'Interesting.' Rane thinks. As many years as Hap has basically been living here, Rane would've thought he was bound to see at least a few episodes of her having bad nights. "She had night terrors a lot when she was little. Got better once she hit her teenage years, more sporadic. This the first time you been here since your probation ended?"

Nodding, Happy slides a couple slices of the toast onto the plate already piled high before answering. "I was caught up in Charming helping with the Kyle/Opie shit, then had to make a run down to Tucson from there."

"Well, she's been havin' more bad nights this year. I assumed it was because of the asshole. Talked to her about movin', see if that would help, but she insisted on stayin' here." he explains further, grabbing plates and forks as Happy turns off the stove and sets the pan in the sink. Calling louder back into the living room, Quinn sets the little table against the wall as he shouts, "Harley, come eat breakfast!"

There's some indistinct grumbling, then she shuffles into the kitchen, still wrapped in her blanket, looking very asleep still. As she and Rane settle in chairs, Happy sets the plate of french toast in the middle, and unloads an armful of breakfast condiments, setting the butter and maple syrup in the middle, and the apricot jam and pecan syrup between Rane and Harley.

Obviously this is a regular occurrence, then.

He and Hap have shared enough meals that it's entirely possible that the man just remembers how he likes his pancakes/french toast/etc, but, more likely, he has breakfast with Harley enough that he knows how she likes them, and she's probably told him why.

Coffee appears in front of her next before Hap finally joins them and they all dig in.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

November 2002 - Vegas

As usual, it's the very beginnings of pre-dawn when Harley trudges in from work Sunday morning. Her usual long Saturday night shift on top of a bad night's sleep and the general weirdness of having both Happy and her dad at the apartment had made for a long day. She'd been surprised to find both bikes still in the parking lot when she pulled in, and she's even more surprised to not find either man on the couch when she quietly walks into the apartment.

Besides the fact that Hap at least will usually doze in front of the tv to wait for her to get home from work, there's still only 2 bedrooms in the place, meaning she's bunking with one of them, since their kuttes and boots are here, telling her they didn't get picked up for club business.

An odd feeling takes root in her stomach as she pushes her bedroom door open to find Happy in the bed, the indistinct dark lumps of his bags piled next to her dresser. She knows he'd called a couple months previously saying he'd talked to her dad about…. them, but had her father really given him permission to sleep with her? He stirs as she closes the door as softly as she can and tries to silently make her way to the dresser to drop her dirty clothes in her hamper and pull open a drawer to get some pajamas. At the very least, she's not sleeping naked with her dad in the house.

"Am I sleeping in here or on the couch?" she asks softly, uncertain.

"Here." is the gruff, sleepy reply as he watches through cracked eyes as she changes in the dim light coming in through the cracks in the blinds from streetlights.

Normally she'd go into the bathroom and properly wash her face, but she doesn't want to risk waking Rane if she hadn't already coming in, so she instead grabs her stash of baby wipes, kept in the nightstand for this exact purpose, and scrubs off as much makeup as she can in the dark as she sits on the edge of the bed. After pulling the metal barrette from her hair, she finally lays down.

Happy doesn't waste any time, rolling onto his side toward her and slinging an arm over her stomach as she lays on her back. She picks up her head automatically so he can adjust his other arm out in front of him and bent up, then settles her head back down onto his bicep and her pillow. His forehead rests against the side of her head and she can feel and hear his soft breath only a couple inches from her ear as their legs tangle together.

Letting out a big breath at how much she'd missed this since the week she'd spent with him up in Tacoma, Harley still has some trouble fully relaxing.

Apparently, he can tell. "What's wrong?" he asks quietly.

With half a shrug, she runs her fingertips up the arm over her torso while she tries to come up with an answer. "Just…. This has been such an impossible thing for so long, and now, here we are, with dad across the hall…."

"Yeah," Hap breathes out. "He hasn't exactly given his blessing, yet, but we should probably have that talk soon."

"I'm off tomorrow; we can go for a ride in the morning, find somewhere to sit." she tells him, feeling him nod slightly against her own skull in reply.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

November 2002 - Vegas

Happy wakes her up at 11 by sitting on the side of the bed and stroking his fingers through the base of her hair - much further than that being tangled from sleep.

Blinking her eyes open, she finds him fully dressed and seeming like he's been that way for awhile, which isn't surprising. He'd probably gotten at least a few hours of sleep before she'd gotten home near 4 that morning, so he was probably up a few hours ago along with her dad.

With a yawn, she rolls over and stretches for a moment before sitting up.

"Do whatever you need to get ready, and we'll take off for that ride." Hap tells her as he stands up again, heading back out of her room and shutting the door.

Harley doesn't bother with a shower before getting on a bike, just taking another baby wipe to her face, this time in the light and in front of the mirror over her dresser to get the remnants of mascara from around her eyes and clean up the necessary bits on other parts of her body. After wrestling her long, unruly hair into submission with a brush and winding it into a long braid, she quickly pulls on jeans and a thermal shirt, and thick socks.

She's tying a bandana around her head to control any stray hairs as she emerges from using the bathroom and enters the living room, making Rane looks at her confusedly for a minute before turning his head to eye Happy, who is getting up to pull his boots and jacket and kutte on.

Making a detour, Harley kisses her dad on the cheek before following Hap's lead, lacing up her boots tight for riding before adjusting her pant legs around the ankles and moving to slide into the leather jacket that Happy's holding out for her to get into easily with a small smile.

He'll deny it if confronted, but his ma and aunt had raised him to be a gentleman, and, no matter how he treats the club girls, any woman he gives a damn about gets treated to these little shows of courtesy that he mostly doesn't even realize he's doing.

Her dad watches this whole thing with a slightly perturbed expression, having not consciously realized that she has ever been on Happy's bike at all, and not sure how he feels about her riding with another man. The scene is punctuated with a soundtrack of some random western playing on the tv.

The next thing Harley grabs from Happy is her helmet, which is kept on the coat rack, and she flashes a smile at her father while Hap opens the door, saying, "We'll probably be gone a few hours." and getting a short nod in response.

Rane watches the front door swing shut behind them, not sure what he's feeling.

He doesn't doubt she'll be safe. Hap's a good rider, and he'd trusted the man with her safety a long time ago. There's been no reason, ever, to second-guess that decision.

At the same time, he'd never in a million years anticipated…. this. No daddy is ever ready for their baby girl to grow up, and he's not an exception. It had been hard enough when he'd realized she was dating and even having sex with guys. The fact that there is some very real feelings between her and one of his brothers, one of his Nomads, is an entirely new level of mind fuckery that he's trying almost desperately to get right with.

Seeing it with his own eyes, how they interact, is a trip.

It's a whole new side of Happy that he's seeing now. How attentive the man is to Harley, how much he opens up and smiles and laughs and jokes and… relaxes. Completely different than how he is around the club.

Well, no, that's not entirely correct, is it? Because from what Rane had gathered, Hap had been like that around the club when Harley'd gone up north.

And Harley. She actually LETS him take care of her. Much more than she lets Rane. He never would've gotten away with half the crap Happy had the day before; from hopping up from the table to refill her coffee in the middle of their breakfast/lunch to later when they'd been sitting on the couch watching tv and Quinn was sitting in the chair, and had watched Happy casually reach out and grab her feet from where she had them tucked under her, pulling them into his lap and start to massage them idly.

Rane had known they'd become friends, even been happy about it. Harley didn't have many friends, and none of them had ever been very close, and having someone he trusts that tends to be within a days' or so ride at most times when he is frequently unable to get away on the other side of the country had been a comfort. Knowing that she would actually call him when she needed to - like when one of the exes that hadn't taken the breakup well broke into the apartment and she'd had to make her first kill - was even better.

He hadn't counted on his taciturn, reserved brother falling in love with her. Or her obviously returning the feelings.

But he knows how hard it is to make a relationship work within the club, he's seen so many Old Ladies come and go over the years that it isn't actually funny, no matter how much the boys joke to make light of it. Can he really get behind a relationship between them knowing how unlikely it is to work out? He's the one that'll get stuck in the middle if it doesn't. He couldn't pick sides at all. Club first, so he couldn't take her side against Happy, but he also can't in good conscience pick the side of anyone against his little girl.

And she IS still his little girl, no matter how old she gets or what she will argue.

Settling in, he prepares for another long stretch of trying to get himself right with this while halfass paying attention to whatever rolls by his eyes on the screen in front of him.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

November 2002 - Vegas

Harley's beginning to feel like this pulloff out by the canyon is the setting for the important conversations of her life. She'd had a few heavy talks with her dad out here over the years, and now it's where she'd directed Happy for them to sit on the same rocks to discuss… whatever the hell is going on with them.

She's on her usual rock, and Happy had settled easily next to her on the one her dad generally sits on, and they're quiet for several minutes, neither really sure what to say.

"I'm not good at this." Happy finally blurts out, with a slightly lost expression on his face.

"Talking? You're usually pretty good at it." she says.

Snorting and rolling his eyes at her deliberate obtuseness, he clarifies, "Dating, relationships, whatever." sighing, he keeps going. "Communicating - about important shit - and compromises and…. well, with sweetbutts so ready and willing, bein' faithful ain't really my strong suit."

Nodding in appreciation of his candidness, she thinks about that for a long moment before responding. "Honestly, I think you and I are pretty good at talking to each other and working shit out. We've been doin' it for years, and I don't see why that has to change just because we start something more. The only thing I'm 100 percent not willing to put up with is hypocrisy."

Happy looks over at her now, questioningly. "What does that mean?"

Meeting his eyes calmly, she uses the same firm, dead serious tone she has every time he's started to freak out about her being in a fight or something, channeling her father, knowing he responds to it. "I mean, I won't put up with having 2 sets of rules. If you get to fuck around on runs, then I'm not gonna stop hooking up when you're gone. And if you wanna start tracking down guys I've fucked and killing them, then you better warn the clubhouses you go to that they're gonna start losing whatever sweetbutts touch your dick."

His first instinct is to argue, and insist that she'll be his exclusively, and what happens when he's on a run will stay on a run. That impulse gets squashed, though. She's a Quinn, and she's dead fucking serious. She's killed before and only had minor mental fallout, if she ever had a reason to actually go out and kill other than defending herself, he wouldn't either put it past her or be surprised if she was totally fine with it. If she'd been born a dude, he has no doubt she would've prospected and patched in straight out of high school and been a fellow Nomad by now, following in Rane's footsteps.

Hap's next thought is that maybe he can just get blowjobs when he's away from Vegas and keep her from finding out, but he immediately realizes how stupid that is. She'll find out. Maybe not right away, but eventually, and that'll just fuck things up more. If they're gonna do this, he wants to do it right.

"It doesn't have to be decided right this second." Harley continues after giving him a couple minutes to process, head turning to look back out over the scenery in front of them, colors muted by the overcast sky promising rain soon. "And nothing has to be set in stone. We don't have to jump straight into a committed relationship, Hap. We can keep it casual for awhile, see if it's even gonna really be a thing. I get that there's pressure from my dad, but it's not like he can really do that much to you without getting in trouble with the club, especially if I'm as guilty of whatever he decides is wrong as you are."

Several good points are wrapped up there, feeding Happy's thoughts as he also looks down the canyon again.

"So, what, we stay like we have been for the past couple years and just start fucking?" he asks, a little perplexed at the idea, but also intrigued.

He feels Harley shrug a little next to him. "If you don't think you can stay faithful on the road, then that seems like the best option. We're together when you're here, and when you're not, we're both free to do whatever."

"I think the only way that'll work is if I don't know about the whatever you're doing while I'm gone." he tells her plainly.

"That's fine." she agrees easily. "It's not like I'm asking to hear about the chicks you're fucking in other cities."

"Still gotta wait for your dad to give me the okay." is his next caveat. Rane's told him he's working on being okay with it, but it would still be disrespectful to start something, even something casual, with her without getting Rane's approval.

"I figured."

They stay sitting there for awhile longer, both obviously thinking about the conversation, before Harley eventually stands.

Before Happy can join her, she has turned and planted herself between his spread knees, both her hands going to his cheeks and her mouth hitting his before he registers what's happening. Without any conscious thought on his part, his body responds automatically, eyes closing as his hands hit her hips. Quickly, her tongue is slipping into his mouth and stroking against his, still tasting faintly of the bacon and coffee from when they'd stopped for food before coming out here.

The kiss is over as quickly as it began, Harley pulling back and letting her hands caress down his neck as they drop. "We should get going before this rain hits."

It takes Happy a few seconds to pull himself back to the present, looking up to see that the cloudcover had indeed grown more dark and ominous. If they were further north, he wouldn't worry too much, but rain in the desert is no joke to ride in. It goes from dry to downpour in a flash, and roads get slippery and dangerous just as quickly as oil rises from the asphalt with the sudden onslaught of water.

Nodding, he stands, and they make short work of getting settled back on his bike and getting back on the road, heading quickly for home.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

Christmas Day 2002 - Bakersfield

"So, when do we get to meet her?" his second-oldest cousin, Mel asks teasingly, glass of wine in one hand and baby in the other as she dodges around two toddlers playing in the middle of his aunt's living room to join him and her husband, Ron, on the couch.

Raising an eyebrow, Happy asks back, "Her who?"

"Please." the skeptical reply comes from the easy chair where Becky's husband, Josh, sits. "Man, you lit outta here after Thanksgiving like you had a whole 'nother kinda feast waitin' for ya. You didn't get a call, so it wasn't club related. That only leaves one thing."

In the middle of his comment, Jasmine, the oldest girl, walks in from the adjoining dining room where she'd been showing her only kid and Gracie's oldest, both now big enough to have to help a little, how to set the silverware next to the plates around the big family table. Scoffing, she joins in the interrogation, thankfully with no male backup, being recently divorced. "Davie'll never bring a girl home. Promised as much when he was 15 and swears we ran off his first real girlfriend." His childhood nickname makes it's first appearance of the night, and most of them have been here less than an hour. He's use to it, the girls having called him that his whole life. These days, he's only David to his family and the law man, and only Davie to his 4 female cousins, who all see him as perpetually 8 years old despite now entering his 30s and having been in an outlaw MC for over a decade.

She barely pauses before making the turn to go back to helping their mothers and 2 of her sisters in the kitchen to let Grace's husband, Greg, exit it, fresh beers for all the guys in hand.

"What are we talking about? David's secret girl?" he asks, passing the bottles around to the guys.

"There's no secret girl." Hap insists at the same time there's a low crash and a spate of yelling from down the hall, pulling Greg, who's still standing, away to investigate what had happened with the slightly older children that are off in the playroom that had been converted from one of the 2 bedrooms that use to be shared by the girls.

Yeah, between his ma, his aunt, the 5 cousins, 3 spouses, and currently 7 grandbabies between the 4 girls ranging in age from 6 months to 9 years, holidays are always a little chaotic.

Josh and Ron exchange a smirking look while Mel shakes her head somewhat pityingly at him. "Whatever you say, baby cousin. Just don't think we've missed you smiling down at your phone like whoever texted you hung the fucking moon." Shit. Is that his tell? That's how Quinn had caught him too. "And don't delude yourself into thinking ma and auntie have been too busy to notice, either." Double shit.

With almost comedic timing, his phone chirps in his pocket, indicating he has a text message, probably from Harley.

Not wanting to give them more ammo, Hap ignores it, instead gluing his eyes to the football game on the tv despite not really giving a damn about it and taking a swig of his beer.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Mel give her husband a look, and Ron sighs, saying, "Dude, just answer it. You're not fooling anyone, and you just look like an idiot the more you try and deny it."

"Take it from us, man, it's easier just to give in to it." Josh pipes in. "Ain't like havin' a girl is the worst thing in the world."

Without comment, Hap shifts to pull his phone out, resolutely ignoring the smugness rolling off of Mel next to him in waves as she sips her wine and adjusts her hold on the napping baby. Flipping the phone open, he clicks the appropriate buttons to open the text message and finds a slightly grainy little picture of Harley, in her uniform in what he recognizes as the locker room at work, making an exaggerated 'exhausted' face. He knows from an earlier conversation that she'd signed up for extra shifts over the holidays because the casino gets so busy and people frequently call out. She'd last texted on her way to work at 9 that morning, exceptionally early for her to even be awake considering she'd worked until after 2 the night previous. It's now close to dinnertime, and he wouldn't be surprised if this is the first time she'd gotten a break longer than to run to the bathroom.

"Oh, Davie, she's pretty!" Mel exclaims, obviously peeking at his phone. Knowing Harley doesn't expect a response, he snaps the phone shut immediately. Mel doesn't give up, though. "Oh, come on! Pretty girl is texting you pictures from work on Christmas. You cannot seriously keep denying this."

He's saved by his oldest niece and nephew, who are apparently done setting the table and announce as much loudly as they half-run and shove each other slightly as they exit the dining room and hurry through the living room and down the hall to join the other kids, splitting to squeeze around Greg, who is just now exiting from dealing with whatever minor catastrophe had happened a couple minutes earlier.

"What'd I miss?" Greg asks, reclaiming his beer and flopping down on the unoccupied loveseat.

"David got a picture text from mystery girl. Apparently she's pretty." Josh fills him in blandly.

"Totally his type. Looks skinny, all long blonde hair. Couldn't tell, but I'll bet you anything she has blue eyes and is tall, too." Mel offers up info on what she'd spied. "He's gone for the exact same type of girls since he was 14."

His auntie Mary appears in the kitchen doorway at the moment. "What is this? David's secret girlfriend? He can tell us about her all together at the table. Greg, Josh, go get the kids. David, Ron, help take food to the table." the orders fly out of her mouth as she carries a platter piled high with slices of ham into the dining room, followed almost immediately by Jas with another platter filled with slices of roast turkey.

Several frenzied minutes later, everyone is crammed around the table, with drinks, and grace has been said. Arms reach to begin loading plates, starting with the kids, as chatter resumes.

Over the din of kids saying they want or don't want specific things and their parents arguing with them, Mary's voice cuts a third of the way down the table. "Now, David, you were going to tell your family about this girl, finally?" catching the attention of every adult not actively forcing a child to eat some green beans and broccoli.

There's several very interested noises from the women who hadn't been party to the most recent of living room conversation, while Hap rolls his eyes and drops butter into his heap of mashed potatoes, avoiding his mother's eyes. "No, I wasn't."

Head shakes go around the other men at his stubbornness, and Mel isn't shy about reiterating the intel she had gleaned. "She's his type. Apparently has a job where she got stuck working on Christmas; there was a nametag, but I couldn't read it. Probably some kind of customer service."

"Grocery store?" Jas offers as a possibility.

"Looked fancier. Low cut black top, gold-colored tag. I'm thinking waitress." Mell volleys back.

Frustrated with their badgering, Hap sighs out, "Look, when there's anything worth telling you guys about, I will. Until then, can we please drop it?"

"No." is the unanimous declaration from every adult female at the table except his mother, who silently goes about cutting up her thick slice of ham, knowing better than to actively engage. Her sister and nieces are the badgerers, she'll just silently stare the info out of him.

Looking around and realizing he's truly on his own, receiving no support whatsoever from the other guys, Happy sighs, deciding to just get it over with. "Harley."

"What does your bike have to do with anything?" Grace asks.

Another eye roll, and he clarifies. "Her name is Harley, she's my President's daughter, she lives in Vegas, works at the Palms as a cocktail waitress. And we aren't together. Officially. Yet."

"Now, was that so hard?" his aunt says just a little condescendingly, waving her fork at him.

Jasmine chimes back in. "And what's all this 'officially' and 'yet' business?"

"Waiting for Quinn to give us the go-ahead. He's havin' a little trouble admitting she's growin' up." he grumbles before shoving a forkful of food into his mouth.

Across from him, Becky arches an eyebrow. "How old is she if he's just now having to admit it?"

"22." is his firm response, accompanied by a slight glare, silently telling her not to go there.

Everyone gets the message to drop that line of questioning. Instead, Mel asks, "So, is she working her way through college, or….?"

Shaking his head, Hap knows there'll be judgement from his cousins about this part. "Nah. She got a couple scholarship offers for track and math, but she didn't want to go to college. Said there wasn't anything she was interested enough in to put up with 4 or more years of school."

Four sets of lips purse. All the girls had gone to college and gone into some kind of trade after watching their mother and aunt both work multiple jobs to support the five of them growing up. Not that they look down on their collective mothers for doing that, but they are a bit judgey about people, women in particular, who choose to not go the route the four of them had if there's an option to, as they call it, 'better themselves'.

His mother chooses this moment to cut in. "Well, good for her for knowing what she wants, or doesn't want, and not wasting time doing something she knows won't make her happy." her own reproving gaze circles around at her nieces before she launches her own non-question at her son. "If she's your President's daughter, then you must've known her awhile."

"'Bout 5 and a half years." he answers between bites of food, determined to eat despite the interrogation. More looks about the age thing, making him repress what feels like the thousandth eye roll of the evening, glaring instead, now insulted. "Get your minds out o' the damn gutter. Up to a few months ago, we were just friends, and even now, it's barely more than that. Stop lookin' at me like I'm some fuckin' perv." Thankfully, none of the family put much stock in not swearing in front of the kids, only trying to limit how much it happens. He does at least keep it relatively G-rated while still getting his point across that he's not a goddamn cradle-robber.

Blessedly, conversation moves on after this, people deliberately changing topics and starting other, smaller, conversations now that they have managed to pry what they consider the big gossip out of their baby cousin.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

Boxing Day 2002 - Las Vegas

Just after midnight, Harley trudges tiredly into her apartment after a gruelling, but profitable, 14-hour workday.

The casino is slammed this time of year, and coworkers call out wanting to spend time with families or party, leaving her opportunities to cash in on the holiday generosity of people who can afford to stay in a resort on the strip during fucking Christmas.

By now, she has a not-insubstantial stash in the small safe hidden in the corner of her closet in addition to the more trackable checking and savings accounts in her name. They're nothing most people would go nuts for, but they definitely reflect spending the last 4 years and change as a good-earning cocktail waitress that lives modestly. In her big hobo purse that contains her uniform, heels, and makeup bag along with other general purse stuff, is a pleasingly thick stack of mixed $50s and $20s to add to the pile in her safe.

Her phone chirps as she kicks off the flip-flops she'd slid her feet into for the drive home, and Harley pulls out her phone, unsurprised to find a reply text from Happy. She'd texted him on the way up the stairs to let him know she's home. His reply is asking how the day was other than exhausting.

Instead of tapping out an answer, she hits the call button.

"So bad you had to call to rant about it instead of texting?" his teasing voice comes on the line after only one ring.

Smiling as she pulls her uniform dress out to throw in the wash, she answers, "Maybe I just wanted to talk to you." She sounds tired even to her own ears, and second-guesses calling him, knowing he'll worry. "How was family time?" Harley questions, knowing he'd gotten to Bakersfield that afternoon after going to the big Charming Christmas Eve blowout the night before.

"They all wanna meet you." Happy's answer makes her stomach flip.

Meet her? Why? What did he tell them about her? "Huh?"

"They were naggin' me about my 'mystery girl' when you sent that pic earlier, and one o' my cousins saw it, so I told 'em about you." his raspy voice sounds equal parts amused and annoyed.

Uniform in the washer and the machine started, Harley backtracks to flop onto the couch, the issue no more clear. "What exactly did you tell them about me?"

She can almost hear him shrug. "Who you are, a little about you." There's a short pause. "What you are to me."

She has to ask, because they hadn't exactly put labels on anything, though they had started sneaking kisses occasionally. "And what am I to you?" she tries to make her tone playful.

"Something more than a friend, but nothing official, yet." is the simple response.

Disappointment settles, though Harley knows she has no reason to feel it. She'd just thought literally 4 seconds ago that they hadn't put labels on them. "Hmm." she hums out a vague acknowledgement, hoping he doesn't read what she's feeling in it.

Happy must have some idea what she's feeling, because he continues talking unprompted. "I didn't really know what else to call you, since Rane still hasn't…. But I also didn't want to make out like you weren't anything important either. And they just wouldn't fucking stop pushing me-"

"It's okay, Hap. It's not like I expected some grand declaration, I was mostly just curious about how dinner with your family was." Harley cuts him off. It's rare that he will be the one to go into ramble-mode, and she's comforted that he thinks this is important enough for him to get a little flustered trying to explain to her.

She hears a slight sigh of relief before he changes the topic completely. "You working straight through New Years and taking some time off after again?"

This had been her M.O. for the past few years; to cash in on the busy and profitable last 2 weeks or so of December into the first few days of January by working long shifts straight through, then basically taking nearly two weeks off to recover when it slows down a little, picking up just one or two short shifts a week to stay on the schedule as many of her coworkers scramble to make up the hours they'd missed calling out over Christmas and New Years.

"Yeah, I think the 3rd is my first day off." she confirms idly. "You got any big NYE plans? Heading back up to Charming for their blowout?"

"Actually…" there's an odd hesitation in Happy's voice. "I was thinking about coming to Vegas to check out their New Years party. I hear it's pretty epic, and I think I'll be able to stick around for a little bit after."

Is he… No. That can't be right. It sounds almost like he's asking her if she's okay with him being in Vegas for New Years, A) as if she would ever have a problem with him being here, and B) like her opinion would matter anyway. Also, C) she's going to be working, so for at least the first couple days he'd probably only be seeing her literally while they sleep for a few hours and while she's getting ready to head back to work.

"I mean, the whole city gets pretty crazy. Between how long you've been basically living here between runs and the fact that you pay rent, this is your home, too. I'll pretty much only be here to sleep until my schedule slows down…." Harley hedges, giving a not-answer for his not-question.

There's some silence, then a grunt of acknowledgement. This is followed by a sharp exhalation and an almost frustrated snort before Hap speaks again. "I'm tired of talking around this. I fucking wanna see you. Spend time with you. Maybe even fuck you, because Rane's had fucking months to deal with the fact that this is gonna to be a thing and I'm sick of waiting. I know you got work for a couple days, but if I come up on New Years, I should be able to stay for a week, at least, unless there's some emergency I get called away on. But shit's quiet right now. You ready to figure out what the fuck is happening here, girl?"

Heart rate immediately skyrocketing, it takes her a moment to get under control enough to get out a somewhat-calm-sounding "Yeah, I am."

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

January 2nd 2003 - Las Vegas

1 am is a relatively early hour for Harley to be getting home from work, but it had been her last full day after a little over 2 weeks without a single one off, and she'd still worked 10 hours. She's surprised to find all the lights out and Happy apparently in bed already. Since he'd begun staying in her room instead of the other one, he'd stopped waiting up on the couch for her, but she didn't think he usually went to bed until pretty late, still. What outlaw worth the name is in bed at normal-people hours when he doesn't have to work the next day, after all?

Thinking about him waiting in her bed, in his boxers or less, and the fact that she has the next 3 days off, Harley goes through her normal routine of stripping out of her uniform dress and dropping it in the washer, and washing her face in the bathroom, with a wicked smirk on her lips.

He'd ended up passing out drunk at the clubhouse on actual new years eve, and last night he'd been hung over and she'd been exhausted, but tonight is an entirely different story.

Her opinion has, for months, been that they should do as they please and her father can just fucking deal with it. The fact that Happy is now on board with that plan after over 3 months of waiting for her dad to get right with the idea -not to mention years of silently eye-fucking each other - has her slipping into her room and pulling her undergarments off before moving toward the bed instead of grabbing pajamas as she normally would.

She can feel his eyes on her before her bra hits the ground, and takes her time a little sliding her panties down over her hips and legs. He's a fairly light sleeper when he's anticipating things - like her getting home after work.

Crawling up the bed with knees and hands on either side of him, Harley wastes no time before laying her body on top of his, over the blankets, and planting her lips on his.

Happy doesn't hesitate to respond any more than she had hesitated to kick things off. In what feels like no time at all, the blankets have been ripped from between them and their position shifted so they are both on their sides. Facing each other, hands begin exploring as Harley sucks his tongue into her own mouth for a long moment before releasing it to nibble on his lips instead as her nails scratch lightly down his chest.

With a low growl, he pushes her onto her back, rolling on top of her and anchoring one hand in the hair at the base of her head, relishing the whimper he hears as he roughly bites and sucks his way down the smooth skin of her throat and to the slightly heaving breasts tantalizingly close by.

The hand that isn't in her hair goes between her legs as he sucks one nipple into his mouth. She's shaved, and he can feel how wet she is already easily.

Even as a shiver runs down Harley's body, she tells him, "The other one's way more sensitive."

Looking up at her shadowed face in the dark room for a moment, Hap decides to test that and moves the several inches over to the other breast. Before his mouth can even get to the nipple, his slightly stubbly cheek running across it brings forth a much more exaggerated shudder that has him grinning as she mewls out a pleasured sound and bucks her crotch into the hand that's cupping and lightly stroking between her legs, while her fingers dig slightly into the backs of his shoulders.

Noting that, but abandoning it for later play, Happy moves back up to kiss her again as he slips a couple fingers inside of her, now just cupping the back of her head instead of gripping the hair just firmly enough to keep her in place. Harley seems to get that he's losing patience fast, and doesn't seem to mind as she runs her hands down to pull the waistband of his boxers open and remove his dick. Stroking him, her feet come up and some back corner of his mind is impressed by her flexibility as she uses her them to push his boxers most of the way down his legs.

Kicking them off, he pulls away from her long enough to ask, between gulps of air. "You on the pill?"

She laughs breathlessly before answering, and he wishes for a moment he could see her expression clearly. "Yeah, but if you think you're fucking me without a condom before I see a clean STD test and while you're still fucking sweetbutts, you're delusional."

Dropping his forehead into the crook of her neck, he groans, but doesn't argue. He'd probably say the exact same thing in her position and she quite literally has him by the dick, with both hands. Getting inside her is more important right now than arguing about him wearing a rubber or not.

Only somewhat reluctantly, he pushes himself up, intending to grab some from his bags in the corner, but she surprises him by releasing his cock with one hand and reaching into her nightstand, saying, "I should still have some in here that'll fit you…." almost distractedly.

Harley, for her part, is trying to remember. She's not nearly as much of a slut as she knows by now pretty much all the club guys are, but she has made a habit of one-night stands in the past few years, in addition to having a few casual booty call guys, so there's a pretty decent assortment of condoms that she keeps on hand - a small bag in her purse, which she fills out of her night table drawer - to accommodate the variety of differently-sized dicks she sees regularly.

Hap isn't the biggest she'll have ever been with, but without actually measuring, she'd guess he makes the top 5, and it takes her a moment to locate one of the bigger foil squares toward the back.

One his knees between her legs, fingers still slowly pumping in and out of her, Happy watches in the scarce light peeking through the blinds as she makes short work of tearing the little packet open and efficiently rolling it down over him. He tries to focus on how hot it is, and not the fact that she has had enough practice to locate the correct one without looking and get it on the correct way in the dark.

He's not entirely sure he could do that in one try the way she just had.

Putting that thought out of his head, he bends his fingers in her, finally finding the spot inside her that draws out a low moan as she rolls her hips down onto his hand, and swirls his thumb hard over her clit. Soon, he's holding her hip down with his free hand to keep her from writhing right off his other hand, and he relishes the frustrated whine she lets out as he pulls it out of her completely a bit shy of her cumming, running his now very wet fingers over his latex-covered dick to help the slightly lubed condom.

Not giving Harley any warning, Happy yanks her up by the hips and plunges into the soft, wet pussy he's been thinking about for far longer than he really cares to admit. He is slightly kicking himself for not thinking to turn on the bedside lamp or something before they really got started, because he wishes he could see her better as she lets out a raspy-sounding gasp as he pushes straight in as far as he can go and pauses to let her body acclimate.

Harley, impatient, only gives herself a moment before demanding, "I'm not going to break. Fuck me."

She hears him groan, but he moves quickly in and out, with no real rhythm at first, testing angles and her reactions until he finds one that makes them both let out moans almost simultaneously, and they both silently know this is going to be a hell of a night.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

January 2nd 2003 - Las Vegas

It isn't often that Harley wakes up with Happy still in bed at all, much less still asleep, but when she does, it's always in exactly the same position. On her side, legs bent and the top one tangled around one of Happy's, while he's wrapped firmly around her from behind, nose nuzzled into her hair, and morning boner nuzzled into her ass cheek and lower back.

The only difference this time is that they're both naked.

Not moving, her mind, still hazy with sleep, wanders back to that first time she'd unthinkingly propositioned him, age 17. She'd been right. Man knows what he's doing. She'd cummed harder than she ever had before on round 1 the previous night, pulling him along with her, and he hadn't even taken the condom off before he'd gone down on her and sent her spiralling off into another mind-shattering, leg-numbing orgasm.

Harley's first movement of the morning is to wiggle her toes. Oh good, she can feel her feet again. She sighs out a content breath as she replays the rest of the night, cuddling further back into the warm chest behind her, feeling the arm around her ribs tighten automatically.

Even half-numb and shaking from overstimulation, she'd had to acknowledge that it was more than just his obvious skill that was making this encounter different than every other sexual liaison she'd ever had. After finally ditching the used rubber in the small garbage can by her bed, Happy'd laid next to her and gathered her up in his arms and gently run his rough hands over her until her body had begun to chill the fuck out, all while muttering quietly into her ear how fucking amazing she is and how long he'd been waiting for that and a litany of other things ranging from filthy to downright sweet.

After she'd gotten a grip on herself, they'd literally just laid there and kissed and touched each other for what felt like hours.

When she'd felt him eventually getting hard again against her stomach, Harley'd made a move to go down - return the proverbial favor -, only for Happy to stop her, turn her bedside lamp to the lowest setting, and reach into the still-open drawer to rummage for another condom.

Round 2 had been so slow and intimate that, even thinking about it the next morning, Harley hesitates to put the name she thinks should really go on it in her mind.

They've known each other for years by this point; are very good friends, and obviously have some stronger feelings in addition to the physical attraction that they have mutually, if silently, acknowledged for a long time. But…. that? So soon? Is she even right about what that was? She's certainly never done or felt anything like that with anyone else, but that also means she has absolutely no basis for comparison.

Deciding that laying there wondering about it isn't going to do her any good, Harley realizes she really has to pee, and begins gently disentangling herself to get up. She may as well start her day and be productive as she drives herself half-crazy.

_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_

January 2nd 2003 - Las Vegas

"Excuse me?" Happy asks incredulously. It's certainly not a phrase he says much. Almost never outside of his mother or aunt's houses, in fact.

"What?" Harley questions back, peering into the little safe to make sure she'd gotten all her cash.

Staring at her, Hap watches as she gathers it up, clutching the stacks between an arm and her body, and moves to the bed before dropping it and beginning to sort the haphazard stacks of bills by denomination. "Let's start with you gambling since you were 18. Fake ID?"

Blonde head shakes without looking up from her casual sorting. "It's legal for anyone over 18 to gamble in card halls. There's a whole thing with what the legal definition of a casino is… totally above board."

Moving from where he'd been posted by the door after following her in, he looks down at the massive amount of green bills, trying to formulate his next question. Hell, trying to decide what he even needs or wants to ask. The conversation had already been so out of left field, even for their usual random topics, that he's not entirely sure what's going on.

It had started out simply enough, with a question of maybe going out to do something tonight. Picking up a discarded paper from the recycle when he'd taken the trash out had ruled out movies, with nothing either of them is particularly interested in seeing in any of the local listings. Harley's not much of a drinker, so just hanging out at a bar doesn't hold much appeal, and Happy had simply glared at her when she'd suggested mini-golf. He'd been debating whether her teasing him about the shoes was worth offering up bowling as an option when she'd blown a breath out, puffing her cheeks, before suggesting hitting up a casino and gambling.

Now, Happy's no stranger to a card game. Between jail and the club, he'd played probably more than his fair share over the years, and he's pretty decent at poker in particular. Most people can't read him very well. Or are just plain scared shitless of him.

But he'd had no idea Harley had gambled, ever. Of course, she does work in a major casino, so he'd subsequently assumed she maybe hit up the slots or something before or after work, and had teased her in some way to that effect. Something about 'pussy gambling'.

In response, Harley had pursed her lips and raised a brow before flatly informing him that her game is blackjack and she'd take him on at a hightop any day.

His cocky ass had, of course, come back with a question about how much she wins.

And now here they are. He'd been led to her room, watched as she moved a couple shoe boxes from the corner of the closet to reveal a safe he hadn't known she had, and his jaw had actually dropped open slightly as fistfuls of cash had piled up on the floor just outside her closet as she informed him she hadn't actually counted since she turned 20 because it started taking too long.

She's kind of in the middle on her side of the queen size bed, now, so Hap sits and settles cross-legged facing her on the other side kinda down at the foot.

Examining the growing piles, he sees it's predominantly $50s and $20s, with a healthy stack of $100s and a smattering of the smaller denominations. She hasn't even finished sorting yet, and he can tell there's probably at least in the range of 'throw down literal cash for a nice car' amount of money there.

"And this is everything you've won since you were 18?" he asks. She'd made it sound almost like she just chucks it all in the safe and doesn't really do anything with it.

"No." she answers. "I bank around 30 percent of my winnings with my tips, and if I have car repairs or any other unexpected shit like that, it comes out of the cash." Harley still isn't done sorting.

Trying to wrap his brain around it still, he questions, "Is this from tournaments or something?"

Harley laughs lightly. "No."

Baffled, he demands, "Gimme somethin' here."

"You remember how I was in advanced placement math classes in school?" he grunts a confirmation. "You ever heard of counting cards?" She glances up at him with a smirk to find him staring at her hard. "I never win big. This-" her hands are still full of cash as she gestures to the growing organized piles of it between them "is the result of almost 4 years of betting small, intentionally losing, and nickel-and-diming my way below the radar at over a dozen different card halls and, now that I'm old enough, casinos. Tournaments, big wins," she shakes her head, going back to her work, "that's how counters get caught. They get greedy. Cocky. But who suspects some random local cocktail waitress with nothing more than a high school diploma who spends her off days roving the smaller places off the strip, making $20 bets, losing $40 at one place and moving on to win $100 somewhere else then moving on again?"

There's a couple minutes of silence as she finishes separating the bills and begins counting, Happy mentally tallying along with her as she makes stacks of a thousand starting with the big bills. She's close to 20k when she runs out of $50s and picks up the first, thick stack of $20s out of 4.

"You don't actually HAVE to count it all if you don't want to, you know." he says. "I was being an asshole because I didn't know that you're an actual gambler."

Harley shrugs, now counting the $20s out into smaller stacks of $500. "I've gotten this far, now I'm kinda curious. My bank accounts, I can just check the balance anytime at an ATM or get it when I make a deposit. I should probably know what my emergency fund looks like, at least generally."

"Why didn't I ever know before that you gamble?" he asks, now curious and starting to get his head straight. They don't tell each other everything, strictly speaking, but he'd thought there wasn't much he didn't know about her current life.

"Happy, counting cards is not only illegal, it can get me in some serious fucking trouble with the local families if it gets out. I don't know who all the Sons do business with. I'm not exactly ripping them off for big sums of money in a night, but if this got around, what do you think would happen? It's not that I don't trust you- obviously I do, I'm telling you now - but you don't keep secrets by blabbing to people, y'know? Even your friends." she gestures again at the mass amount of money in front of her, and he admits the logic.

It's not like she knows everything he's done, particularly of the illegal variety, since they've known each other, after all. Well, at least now he can protect her better if, for some reason, shit does go south.

Still curious, he continues questioning her. "So, lose 40, win 100, that's profit of 60. How does $60 turn into this?"

"That was just an example, but the answer is patience and caution." Harley tells him. "Like I was saying, I bet small, which means I win and lose small. I go to a lot of different places; all of 'em know me by now. If I walk out of any one place with more than $100 in winnings, they tease me, call it a big winning night. I've built my reputation on that." Picking up stack number 2 of the $20s, she goes on. "Say I have 3 days off in a week and you and dad are both not planning on being here. I'll get up around my normal time, go for a run, get ready, whatever, then pick a place to start at. Doesn't matter where. The trick is to have as little of a pattern about where I go as possible. Then I scope a table and start counting. The table will dictate whether this place is going to be a hit or a loss. I cap my losses for any one place at $80 of the $100 I usually change when I walk in. Then I'll move on to a new spot, where I can usually find a hotter table. Sit at the bar and have lunch and get the count without playing, join in and gain back my previous losses and turn a small profit. Do the same while I have a drink at a third place later, or maybe have an intentional loss if it's been all wins so far. Even if I only end up winning between $80 and $200 a night between multiple places, if I do that 2 or 3 days a week, that adds up to between $250 and $400 a week. And over 4 years…."

She doesn't bother gesturing this time. He's already staring, turning that over in his mind. It's a solid plan. And this isn't even all of the cash she's won. She said she banks part of it with her tips from work, and major non-daily expenses come out of this - he knows her car had needed some work last year after she'd been hit while parked, and he vaguely recalls a couple dentists appointments over the last few years that had her laid up on pain meds for a day or two at a time that couldn't have been cheap. At the time he'd just assumed she has really good insurance on both counts, but now he's wondering.

There ends up being around 36k.

Harley doesn't count the smaller bills, just gathering them and leaving them out to put in her wallet for spending cash, along with several hundred in larger bills specifically for tonight.

"You play poker at all?" he asks after she has locked away her now-organized stacks of money, bundled together with old hair ties, and re-hidden the little safe behind the shoe boxes.

Shrugging, Harley replies, "Dad taught me the basics when I was a kid, we used to play for candy and stuff, but I've never tried against anyone else. I just know what I've seen working the rooms at the casino." Which isn't much. Standing around watching people play poker isn't nearly as fun as you might think, especially when you don't have a choice in the matter.

Stepping over to her, Happy slides his hands over her hips to grab her ass, pulling her up against him. "Well, obviously I won't be able to keep up with you at blackjack, and it sounds like you won't keep up with me at poker, so where does that leave us at a casino?"

Smirking right in his face, Harley retorts, "Oh, I could probably keep up with you. It's the other people at the table I may take some getting used to. As long as we at least start at a low-stakes table for me to get a feel for it."

"You think you can keep up with me?" he asks, skeptical. "After only playing with your dad as a kid? I know he's a good player, but poker's a game of skill that you have already admitted you don't have."

Rolling her eyes, she moves away to shuffle through some nicer tops hanging in her closet, preparing to get ready to go out. "Poker is a game of patience and reading people. And reading people is something I am VERY good at, not mentioning that I know you pretty well. Bonus points for the fact that you don't scare me."

Moving to get a clean shirt himself, Happy grumbles out, "We'll see…."