Disclaimer: Claiming no ownership of Sons of Anarchy's original storylines and characters!


Happy's POV:

She was out before I even had the chance to blink my eyes at her blunt refusal. I rarely invited chicks to ride bitch with me, but when I actually did, no-one ever said 'no'. And yet here she was, proving the exact opposite, by apparently being immune to everything that made others crawl at my feet. I had to admit though, I was intrigued. But definitely not in a way that would have made me really start chasing after some pussy. Even if it was a hell of a temptation.

Still I also decided I was done with that shithole bar for the night. It was as good as being in the MC's clubhouse anyways, and there at least I wasn't forced into listening to Juice trying to seal a deal or watching Tig push his way into some poor girl's pants. Plus a quick head from a crow eater, who'd know exactly when to leave me alone, which of course was right after I came, sounded like a way better idea.

I got up, not even bothering to say good-bye to my brothers, who were all too pussy-whipped at that point anyhow. So I simply emptied my beer bottle and headed out.

I was just walking to my bike, patting around in my cut for the lighter, when I noticed the brunette wildcat sitting on a nearby bench. And all of a sudden it was like my feet were having their own mind, so without really having any say over my direction and also without knowingly thinking about what hell I was doing, I had somehow managed to walk up to her.

"I'm fine," she said with a straight face. Or more like a straight mask. I wanted to rip that off of her. Just as much a I'd loved to rip off her clothes.

I snorted. Did I really look like a person who could be worried about some random girl's wellbeing? Burying my instinct to respond along the lines of 'whatever, didn't ask', I simply furrowed my eyebrow to her. "Took the party outside?"

"Forgot my keys in my friend's bag and frankly I don't feel like going back in there, so I'm waiting for her to come out instead, all in all yeah I'm having a blast," she said, her face still not showing real emotions.

"Might be a while," I smirked, loving the calmness waving off of, seeing her like that, I'd have never guessed a girl like her could be able to beat someone into oblivion. "Tig loves to have girls for breakfast."

She made a disgusted face and looked back at the bar. It might have been the first time she had at least up to some level let her guard down.

"Arghh," she mumbled surrendering and got up.

I watched her walk back inside. Loving the way her hips swayed in those dark skinny jeans. That and those scratches on her face, there was no doubt anymore about who I would have picked first out of those three beauties. While the others were simply hot, she was burning with an open flame.

Something was holding me in place. I took my time, slowly dragging the cigarette between my lips, knowingly waiting for her to reappear. All of a sudden the urge to hunt and chase was back in my bones. And I couldn't help but like the fact, that she seemed everything but an easy catch.

It didn't take long until I heard her steps coming up behind me. However instead of stopping, she continued walking forward once she got to where I was leaning on my bike. Meeting my eyes for a second, she gave me a small wave with her keys, accompanied with what looked like a well-practiced fake smile.

"Haven't you heard it's dangerous for girls like you to walk alone on dark streets," he spoke up, while she was still in hearing reach. I had wanted to sound dangerous, but somehow it came out sounding like a challenge or a joke.

"Girls like me?" she turned around, still not stopping in her stride.

"Yeah. Fragile, injured. I bet you can't even clench your fist right now," I said, trying not to grin at the way her eyebrows rose. I had succeeded at hitting a nerve.

"And why do you, big bad biker, want to take me home that badly?" she finally stopped, crossing her arms.

"I don't. Was just about to suggest you should take a cab," I shrugged, putting on the helmet.

Her POV:

"Oh," I couldn't shake the feeling in my lower abdomen, which his raspy voice had brought on. Shit, I had been so good at staying away from bad boys, at least since I'd gotten out. It had actually been my one and only promise to myself- to stop surrounding myself with people who were the definition of trouble. And that was exactly what the tattooed guy in front of me looked like. He might as well been dragging along a sign saying 'I'm sexy, I'm bad, and I know it'.

He was right though, my hands did feel like an elephant had stomped on them. And I was tired. All that dancing on high heels had been a proper workout. And even as my ears couldn't believe what was coming out of my mouth next, my feet and hands were simply begging for it. Those traitors...

"But if I chose to take you up on that previous offer?" I eyed him, wondering what game he was playing here.

"I'd say get on, I don't have all night to debate." The way he spoke in his low voice. It felt like he was growling at me, like an animal straight from the forest.

"Fine, but let's be clear, I only want to ride on your bike, not on you," I slowly moved closer to him. Shit, I should have phrased it better.

"Good to know you have thought about that last part." His gaze made my cheeks heat up. Hoping it wouldn't be visible in the dim light, I quickly grabbed the spare helmet he was holding out. Facing away from him a bit, I could still feel his eyes on me, as I gathered my dark hair on one side to adjust the too long straps.

"That tat on your neck…" he started, looking at the spot my hair usually covered.

"Is none of your business," I hurridly finished his sentence. Hoping he didn't see it that clearly, or simply somehow didn't know the meaning behind it. I had spent years dreaming about removing those four dots surrounding one smaller dot in the middle, which represented those four walls that had held me a prisoner for so long, but had still eventually decided against it. Even though the tattoo was forced on me, I had somehow grown used to it. It didn't only represent everything bad that had happened, it also worked as a reminder of that dark hole I was never going to fall back into. And that really did push me forward.

Warily I climbed behind him, making sure I'd sit as far away from him as possible. Although once we were on the road, forces of physics did not leave that last part up to my deciding. I was slammed heavily against his back, like my life depended on his closeness.

"You didn't tell us your name earlier," he said once I was safely back on my own two feet.

"I know," I turned my back to him and started walking toward the front door. I wasn't trying to make friends with him.