A/N: Again, anything you recognize in this chapter is of the brilliant making of BookJunk; the original creator of this story. I have complete permission to use her story and change it a bit. For the original, head over to her profile and give it a read.
Chibs/Juice
Think, there's not enough shit going on to be losing sleep over, think, Juice urged himself. Think of something, anything, anything but the truth.
He finally turned around and cleared his throat, "I'm not happy about this Laroy situation."
Chibs looked at him, or through him as it seemed, taking his time with Juice's obvious lie. He exhaled three puffs of smoke but his eyes remained fixed on Juice as the smoke dissipated, Juice tried to maintain eye contact as he tugged at his own shirt nervously. At Chibs' disapproving look however, he released the fabric and let his hands fall to his side instead.
"Bullshit, nobody is happy about that but I don't see anyone else jitterin' and sweatin' all over the place." Chibs said after a tense silence. "You ain't still hung up about that half-arsed attempt at blackmail are ya?"
Juice flinched but before he could gather his wits and insist that it did still bother him, not entirely untrue, Chibs dismissed the idea as he tapped the ash of his cigarette on the ugly, clay ashtray on the table.
"No, that ain't it, it's something else," Chibs murmured to himself, he looked at Juice in speculation as if he'd be able to get the truth from the younger man by sheer force of his will. He indicated that Juice should sit down with a nod of his head, but Juice remained standing where he was, the kitchen counter was a much better option that being close to Chibs.
"Okay, you're right, it's about the future of the club, just wondering whether we'll survive." Juice lied again, rambling slightly as he allowed himself to wipe the sweat on his brow. He looked at Chibs and almost graoned when he saw that Chibs wasn't buying it.
"That's a legitimate concern but it ain't what's bothering you and I swear you try to feed me any more shite, I'll beat it out of you." Chibs warned, he smiled at Juice but his eyes told Juice he wasn't kidding. They both waited, Juice leaning against the counter in an attempt as a casual pose while Chibs was effortlessly calm smoking his cigarette. It was a silent battle of wills; Juice's against Chibs's.
Juice watched the man as he closed his lips around the filter, thinking about how it was a strangely sensual gesture. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Juice thought. It was all falling apart, he was falling apart. He was tired and afraid, telling Chibs might be the worst thing he could do although it could also be the best thing too. The last time he had a secret that could be his undoing; he had gotten blackmailed into betraying his club only to find out that, in the end, his secret didn't matter. It was Chibs that had told him it didn't matter; it was this man sitting in front of him calmly smoking his cigarette that had reassured him.
Either way, Juice would finally know whether his fear was justified our not, sighing he shoved the chair back and sat down heavily opposite his friend. He was careful to keep his distance though, no knees brushing again knees. Chibs slid his pack across the table and Juice took it gratefully but was sure not to touch Chibs's fingers. He tapped the pack against the side of the table while he fished in his pocket for a lighter, but Chibs beat him to it. He leaned forward a little too eagerly and wanted to slap himself.
There was something flirtatious involved in accept a light, he always thought, an intimacy in the actions, even between strangers. Ruby used to accept a light for her cigarette by softly touching his fingers, drawing the flame in. Juice took a deep drag and attempted to diminish all the inappropriate thoughts of Chibs rolling through his mind; it wasn't easy.
"Thanks. Can't you just let it slide and leave it alone?" Juice asked in a last ditch effort to drop the subject. Chibs put his stub out in the ashtray but pulled out another one, he scratched his chin as he appeared to mull it over.
"After your failed attempts to shuffle this as shite to do with the club, hell no." They stared at each other again, the battle of wills back full force as Juice's mind raced. Despite what the majority of the club believed, he wasn't an idiot; he knew that things could be fucked up at the moment but under the surface the club was in even more shit than the superficial shit with their deals and alliances. Tig's guilt about his inability to keep Clay from getting shot was messing with his head, Gemma, Clay, and Jax where all tense as hell as well as Opie's continued absence that suggested he had an issues with the entire Charming charter.
It was all relative, but right now Chibs was one of the few Sons who were okay. Juice hated to think that he was adding more trouble to the mix, but he was tired of lying. Couldn't do it anymore. After everything that Chibs had done for him, he owed him an honest answer. Still, he discovered it was hard to find the words. The sad truth was that Chibs's reaction was far more important to him than the reaction of the club.
"Jax asked you and you said you were fine," Chibs prodded mercilessly.
"I was," Juice insisted.
"What changed then?" Chibs questioned, he extinguished his cigarette despite it being barely lit.
"Nothing," Juice said but his mind was screaming everything. Chibs' stare turned brutal at his lie and in one swift movement he stood, causing his chair to clatter to the floor.
"What the fuck are you doing then?" Chibs asked his anger restrained yet still terrifying. Juice took a slow drag from his cigarette and remained seated as Chibs towered over his panting with fury. Juice stayed silent but the piercing quality of Chibs' gaze was beginning to wear down his resistance. "Well?" Chibs growled out finally losing patience.
I can't protect you from it if I don't know what you're hiding.
That's what Juice wanted to hear, but that wasn't going to happen, Chibs's loyalty was to Fiona and Kerrianne firstly, then to the club and Jax. If a secret hurt the club there was no telling what Chibs would do, all Juice could hope for was a little sympathy.
"I wish it wasn't true," Juice whispered his head drooping as shame flooded his system, he looked up into Chib's face appealing for mercy. Chib's uttered a few heartfelt profanities and picked his chair up when he saw the misery written on seeing Juice's misery.
"Come on, Juicy-boy, it's me. Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as you think it is, so tell me." He pleaded his voice gentler now as he sat down in his chair.
"I think I love you," Juice blurted out, not able to agonize over it any longer. Chibs regarded his with confusion, clearly the thought that this was a preamble to the actual confession.
"I love you too," He responded simply but frowned when Juice shook his head. He felt sick, his stomach twisting in nerves and shame, the fingers holding his cigarette trembled despite his hard effort to keep them steady.
"No," Juice insisted shaking his head, "Not the way I love you." He watched Chibs's face closely as what he was trying to say clicked into place.
"Damn."
"Yeah, damn," Juice repeated dully, echoing the sentiment was the only thing he felt up to at the moment. His stomach twisted more when Chibs stood up and paced around the kitched glancing at Juice every so often. The Scotsman pulled a hand through his hair as Juice continued to watch him, the pain in his stomach actually making him feel like he was going to vomit; the only thing that helped him keep his composure was the cigarette.
"Jesus Christ, Juice," Chibs muttered, he seemed to make a decision because he grabbed his gun from the table and shoved it into his waistband. "Grab your gear," He commanded then walked out of the kitchen.
Juice scrambled to get his helmet and cut then followed the older man outside. His hands were shaking so much that he had trouble getting his chin straps fastened. When they were finally secured and he was ready, he looked at Chibs for some sort of cue but Chibs' expression was inscrutable. He started the engine of his bike and issued a final order over the engine.
"Follow me to the club."
"Pussy?" Jax asked as Chibs led Juice into the clubhouse.
"Aye, Ruby." Chibs answered before Juice realized that the question was directed at him. Tig gave Juice a gross wink but he didn't notice he was too busy processing what was happening. If Chibs have taken him to the club to rat him out to everyone, why didn't he just say "no dick"? Why drag it out? He looked around him and noticed that everyone was in the clubhouse, only Clay and Bobby were missing. Tara nodded to Jax before she retired to a room in the back while Gemma remained at the bar.
"Moron," Jax said as he lightly slapped the back of Juice's head. Juice smiled dopily in response, still not sure what exactly was going on.
"Listen," Jax said, turning from Juice to address everyone, he paused briefly, seeming reluctant to continue. "It won't be safe until we straighten this Laroy situation out, so I'm ordering a lockdown. You sleep here, you eat here; if you need to go out it's never on your own. That counts for members and prospects." Juice received a pointed look during Jax's speech but the president made brief eye contact with everyone.
There was an awkward silence following his speech, Juice was confused; Laroy was the threat? Their ranks had been diminished but this seemed like a bit of an overreaction. They couldn't hide, that didn't look good, it would make the club look weak and appearances meant everything in this life. Judging by the looks everyone was sharing, they all felt pretty much the same, no one looked especially eager to openly question Jax's authority however. Juice's own problems were suddenly forgotten although he was absolutely certain he didn't want to be stuck there with Chibs 24/7.
Tig, of all people, was the one who eventually cleared his throat and stepped forward ignoring the warning glance Chibs shot in his direction.
"That'll look—" He began hesitantly but Jax turned on him before his sentence was finished.
"I don't give a shit how it looks!" Jax snarled, he took a deep breath and visibly pulled his anger in. Gritting his teeth and reduced to response to a muttered, "I swear to God Tig" before he stalked off, brushing his mothers' attempt to stop him without acknowledging her presence. He disappeared in the same direction that Tara had gone obviously going to talk to his wife. Tig made a move to follow him but Chibs stepped into his path, there was a tense stand-off between the two men until Chibs shook his head.
Surprisingly Tig backed down with a muttered, "I know, I know" but he threw his hands up in frustration and walked out of the clubhouse. Some cool air seeped in before the door closed and the tension in the club dissipated. In the silence that ensued Juice felt his own anxiety over his situation return full force and when he turned to Chibs the Scotsman gruffly suggested he get some sleep before walking away.
The prospects guided Juice to his sleeping place and he lay down as Ratboy and Filth Phil changed which meant more than just taking off their cuts and shoes, and then crept under their own covers. Juice ignored their attempts to lure him into their whispered conversation about the recent developments pretending to be asleep instead. His mind was racing with unanswered questions though; why hadn't Chibs said anything yet? Was Chibs going to bring it up in the morning? How in the hell was he supposed to get any kind of sleep with this hanging over his head?
Juice listened hard to the talking that was coming from the bar, but he wasn't able to make out any words. It wasn't a lively one, sometimes nothing said for minutes on end, occasionally Chibs would speak his Scottish lilt easy to pick out but it wasn't loud enough to distinguish words. Gemma commented once in a while, her female voice also easy to pick out, and after a while he heard Tig come in. The back and forth murmuring when on for ages making Juice consider getting up to join them, but he was too chicken shit. He didn't want to get kicked out of the club sooner than necessary so he waited until the chairs scraped over the floor and everything was silent.
He listened to the snoring prospects, though Ratboy's breathing was more wheezing than snoring, and he lay awake staring at the ceiling for hours. He tried at one point to close his eyes and drift off but he worried then worried some more until he growled in frustration. Quietly he threw his blanket off of himself and snuck out of the club not bothering to slip a shirt on. The cold night air was welcome after the suffocating warmth inside but it made goose bumps jump out across his skin. The usual lights where on in the garage lot but they were bright enough to reach the club, as his eyes adjusted to the light he looked around and saw a pinprick of light by the picnic table. He watched it burn bright red before fading in confusion before Chib's voice startled him.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Juice made his way over in the dark following the scent of the cigarette until his legs bumped against the table. Chibs said nothing to make him think he was unwanted so Juice sat himself on the bench.
"There were—are things on my mind," He admitted. The cigarette end lit up again causing the harsh red ember to light up Chibs's face. He was sitting on top of the table; he shifted a little causing Juice to look at him but could only make out the shape of his body.
"You've got nothin' to be ashamed of lad," Chibs stated bluntly, the topic they were discussing was unmistakable; Juice was taken aback as he looked up at him. The light from the lot framed Chibs, blurring his edges and making it impossible to see his expression but Juice could tell he was staring into the distance.
"No?" Juice asked, impressed again at the ease of which Chibs got to the heart of the matter. He wanted to feel relieved at Chib's words but he didn't, if anything his stomach twisted again.
"No," Chibs confirmed firmly. There was a pause where Juice allowed the possibility that this might be true and Chibs took another deep drag from his cigarette. "Tig'll do anything with two legs." Chibs added out of the blue causing Juice to look back at the man with a confused look on his face.
"What, like animals or something?" Juice asked, later he blamed his clueless response on his constant worrying, severe lack of sleep, and the late hour. The only answer he got from the older Scot was a chuckle, it took a couple seconds before Juice made the connection and it was simultaneously mind-blowing but not entirely unexpected. This new revelation shed some revealing light on a lot of Tig's more bizarre comments. "The club knows and they're fine with it?"
"We've all been in prison Juice, as long as Tig doesn't introduce a guy as his old lady, nobody cares." Chibs elaborated, his tone matter-of-face and emotionless. Tig's lack of sexual preferences was common knowledge even though Juice had never heard anyone talk about it apparently.
"Kind of like 'don't ask, don't tell'," Juice mumbled unsure on what to make of this new information.
"Aye."
"So… We're good?" It was the million dollar question, that as far as the club was concerned, nothing had changed was fucking great but Juice needed Chibs to be okay with it. He saw and heard the Scotsman shift as he cast another long look out beyond the fences surrounding the lot then nodded.
"We're good."
Chibs/Juice
A/N: Let me know what you think please if you've got a moment.
