A/N: Alright, so thank you to everyone who's read, and special thanks to those who have reviewed. I really appreciate it! Already half through the next chapter, so maybe later tomorrow night I'll have it posted. Thanks for reading! :D


Randy was still smiling as she slammed the door to the office closed behind her, glancing up at Gemma as the older woman raised her eyebrows at her.

"What's up, Gemma?" Randy asked, unable to wipe the smile off her face, even though she knew what the other woman was thinking, even before she spoke.

"You know… Most women would have a problem with their men talkin' to 'em like that," The Matriarch of Samcro said, her voice deceptively casual. "Or havin' their men dry hump 'em in the middle of the parking lot."

Randy shrugged as she sat down in front of the filing cabinets, picking up another box of old folders. She had spent the past six months trying to get the paperwork –some of it from thirty years ago –in some sort of neat and orderly fashion in those damn filing cabinets.

"I'm not most women."

Gemma nodded. "I can see that."

Randy rolled her eyes at Gemma's tone. "Look, Gemma… I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I don't mind. I don't need the lecture about not letting my man walk all over me. Tig and I are fine."

Randy sighed as Gemma shrugged, and turned back to the paperwork on the desk.

How to explain her relationship with Tig? Hell, she didn't really understand it herself. Even as she thought back to their brief interlude in the parking lot, she felt herself tingling all over, remembering the way his arms had grabbed her tightly, forcing her closer… How his large, rough hands had squeezed into her ass, giving her that delicious sensation of pleasure and pain at the same time.

How did she explain to the older woman that she needed that? That Tig knew exactly what she needed, and kept on giving it to her? The mixture of pain and pleasure that Randy couldn't live without?

How to explain that Tig needed it just as much as she did? Some of the fucked up shit they had done in the bedroom? How to explain how gently and tenderly Tig held her after tying her down, and fucking her so hard she could barely stand?

Hell, she couldn't even explain it to herself. All she knew was that it worked, and for the first time in her very short life, she finally felt loved. Needed, wanted, accepted, and safe. Tig gave her all of that, and asked little in return.

Not all of their relationship was like what had happened in the parking lot. While they never exactly had 'normal' moments, like going to the movies, or out to a nice restaurant for dinner, she would admit nothing in her life had ever been normal. And with Tig, she suddenly found herself not caring what 'normal' was. She loved what they had: ordering pizza and Chinese to eat while watching UFC or porn –both of which had the same effect on them – or the nights when they would chase each other through the playground, ending with him screwing her on the merry-go-round, or the swings. Whatever they did, it suddenly became their normal.

But whatever they were doing –whether it be screwing each other's brains out, or sharing a quiet moment on the couch watching the game –suddenly became exactly what it was that she wanted, exactly what she needed at that moment.

She didn't mind what had happened in the parking lot. Had enjoyed the stares, to be perfectly honest. She wondered if Tig had known that Chibs was just on the other side of the car, staring at the two of them with a huge grin through-out their whole moment. Probably not, she decided. While Tig wasn't exactly shy, he didn't like sharing. While she figured he wouldn't get mad at the Scotsman –they were best friends after all, and Chibs was a close friend of hers as well –he wouldn't have done it if he'd known Chibs was there.

She almost laughed as she remembered the look on Juice's face as she walked back towards the shop. Priceless. There were times when the Puerto Rican's innocence was cute; those were the times when she went out of her way to tease. Other times, she found herself shaking her head, wondering where the kid had grown up.

Light years away from her and Tig, that was for damn sure.

"Do you two ever actually talk to each other?"

Randy looked up in surprise, pulled out of her reverie, by Gemma's question. "What?"

"Do you two ever have real conversations? Or is it all about the sex?" The older woman asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

Randy shrugged. "Yeah we talk. I mean, we don't sit down and discuss Shakespeare over a glass of wine, but we talk."

"Do these talks ever not include the words 'bitch', 'asshole', 'bastard'?" Gemma asked sardonically.

Randy sighed impatiently. "Yes, Gemma, sometimes we have real conversations. I know how surprising that is –what with me being an ex-hooker, and him being a pervert dating a girl young enough to be his daughter –but we do other things other than just fuck," She said sharply.

Gemma's eyes narrowed, and Randy instantly regretted her flash of temper.

"Don't get lippy with me, honey. I'll knock the lippy right outta you, you get me? I've known that boy my whole fuckin' life, and I won't hesitate to put you in your place if I think you're hurtin' him. I ain't tryin' to butt into your life, but I want to make sure the two of you are doin' okay. I care about him, and since he cares about you, that makes you family. And that means more than just comin' to holiday dinners and shit," Gemma said, rolling her eyes.

Randy forced her face into what she hoped was a suitably meek expression. "I'm sorry, Gemma. It's just… It's hard to explain. Especially with… them," She said vaguely, waving her hand in the general direction of the garage.

Gemma's eyes softened a bit. "They ain't still givin' you shit, are they?"

"The men aren't. But they still don't understand it. They're not sure if they're supposed to treat me like a sweet butt, an Old Lady, or Tig's 'hooker'," She said bitterly. "The women… well, most of 'em… after that whole thing with Kayla… They don't openly fuck with me anymore, but…" Randy shrugged helplessly.

"There's a lot of ways to hurt you that don't result in fist fights," Gemma finished quietly.

Randy pulled herself together, and shook herself a bit. "It doesn't matter though," She said firmly. "At the end of the day, they're just Sweet Butts. I got the guy in the end… As for the other Old Ladies… Hell, I got the best guy in the end," She said fiercly. "And ain't none of them can take that away from me."