A/N: Juice made it! The Kyra/Juice series is safe! Now I can breathe a sigh of relief. So this is a quick one shot, following the events of the season four finale. I have some great ideas for A/U Kyra/Juice fic using Juice's secret ethnicity so I'll be working on that to keep us SOA fans occupied in the off season. For now, here's a small treat for the Kyra fans who told me they felt like Kyra was somewhere in the background of all the s4 action. Enjoy! - SBG

The office had been buzzing all afternoon with talk of Mayor Hale's land deal falling apart. Kyra knew that her boss had to put on a stoic act over the loss of business for the construction sector of his enterprise, but when he called her into his office and closed the door, she saw the relief on his face about the prospect of keeping his land. She'd sat dutifully in front of his desk, jotting down notes for the memos he needed her to send and phone calls she needed to make. Elliot was particular about the wording, wanting to make sure he could position himself to protect his acres for the foreseeable future. After the sit-down, it seemed she spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening on the phone and responding to emails. When she left the office she didn't want to hear another human voice anywhere, not even on the radio. So she drove home in silence.

Quiet moments found her wondering about Juice. Sure they'd only been going out for a month or so before he disappeared, but she her mind still went back to the moments they'd shared. His mood had been so dark the last time she saw him. Despite his claims that he wasn't being a douche and pulling a disappearing act, she almost preferred that version of events. The alternative, that he would be too tied up with club business to keep in touch, sounded far more sinister. His voice had been heavy with something—regret or worry—that gave her the eerie feeling he was in danger. The exchange felt too much like a good-bye. And the blood in his clothes. He'd either killed or seriously harmed someone before he got to her house and she'd spent the entire night wondering what the hell was going on or if she was better off not knowing at all. Despite her worries, she managed to keep her distance until she heard about Clay's shooting. Then she broke her self-imposed no contact rule and sent Juice a text to see if he was okay, or alive even. That had been at 10 AM. At 4 PM, she still hadn't heard back. When late evening fell upon Charming, she'd given up, wondering if he just had his hands full dealing with the aftermath of the shooting or worse, was hurt himself.

No Kyra, she said to herself. He's just being a guy. Probably balls deep in redneck pussy right now.

For some reason, the single flight of stairs to her apartment felt longer than usual. She couldn't wait to kick off her heels and slide into a pair of leggings and a hoodie. Damn, I can't remember if I have any wine in the fridge—

"Hey."

She looked up and found Juice leaning against the banister next to her apartment, cigarette in hand.

Kyra's heart dropped. He's alive, her mind seemed to exhale, but she didn't want him to see that. She wanted to scream at him and demand he tell her where he'd been and why the fuck he'd left in the first place. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and thank whatever god was willing to listen that he was alive and in one piece. Instead she took a deep breath, gave him a quick once over, and crossed her arms. "You know you're really getting too comfortable with the unannounced visits."

Juice gave her one of his little grins. He seemed…lighter. Easier than the last time she'd seen him. "Shit. I'm sorry. I was in the area and I don't know. Figured it was worth a try..."

Oh, that smile was adorable. But no. No. He wasn't getting off this easy. Not when she still didn't know where the hell he'd been or why he got weird on her. "I text you earlier. Heard about Clay."

"Yeah. Really been in the middle of it today. Only had the prepay on me. I haven't checked my other phone in a few days."

Kyra nodded slowly, still unsure of how much benefit of the doubt he deserved. "He gonna be okay?"

"We think so," he said with a nod.

"And you? You okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded again, this time adding a smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

Those eyes. Same deep brown shade as her own, staring at her. She'd missed their warmth. But fuck that. "Why are you here, exactly?"

He sighed. "I—I wanted to see you. Look, I know I was…weird last time you saw me. But it was just like I said. It wasn't about you and me. Just…the club. Shit got crazy and I didn't want you in the middle of all that."

Kyra had more feelings than she knew what to do with. She was relieved that he was okay, happy that he was on her doorstep, but angry that she didn't have the right to ask questions. He didn't owe her any explanations. Things were still too new. Be cool, Kyra. Gotta play it cool. "Well, I'm glad you're okay," she finally said, stepping around him to open her door.

"You-you mind if-Can I come in?" He sounded like a bundle of nerves.

Of course, I want you to come in. No the fuck you can't come in until you tell me what the hell's been going on. She sighed. Just be glad he's not dead, Kyra. And then she wanted to laugh because in spite of whatever crazy shit he'd been up to in his absence, he was standing on her porch stammering like he was asking her to prom. She put a hand on her hip and leaned against the door. He was still leaning on the banister, arms folded across his chest, awaiting her answer with hopeful, puppy dog eyes. This is all bad, she thought, biting her lip, in spite of herself. "No."

He tried to keep his face even, but the corners of mouth fell, giving away his disappointment.

Kyra smiled. "But if you can give me a few minutes to change clothes, I'll let you buy me a drink."

Juice flashed every pearly white tooth in his mouth, and both dimples in his cheeks. His eyes lit up and he nodded. "Cool. You wanna take the bike or your car?"

"I'll dress for the bike. Be out in a few." Kyra kept her bottom lip tucked in her mouth, holding the smile threatening to spread across her face until she was on the other side of her door. She had no idea what the hell she was doing. And she was perfectly okay with that.