Author's Note: Hey readers! I wanted to update with a longer one than I'd been giving you guys. This one is six freakin pages long so I think that's a good start. I hope I didn't get too descriptive in the middle. I just really enjoyed getting into Juice's head and seeing how he sees certain aspects of Chibs. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Chibs, Juice and their damned ugly cat were a strange family but they worked. Although in his darker moments, Chibs somewhat wished they could make it work without the cat.

It wasn't his fault.

Furballs being hacked up while eating dinner, tongue smudges on his sun glasses, cat hair on his cut, little paw prints around the house with kitty litter in them. Oh, and let's not forget the bastard jumping onto his back while he passed the counter.

Chibs wouldn't completely put it passed the little cretin to say she didn't do some of it on purpose. Honestly, she was lucky she hadn't been skinned alive already.

The man wouldn't actually do that of course. Juicey would be heartbroken. That's not to say he and her hadn't had their special moments.

One time about three weeks after bringing her home, he'd come stumbling into the house at around 3 a.m. He was drunk enough to be seeing double and only by the grace of god, he located the couch.

He'd reached down to get the remote and managed to grab the cat instead. The resulting hissing and scratching fit effectively shot Chib's booze glow in the face.

What he did next was done only out of desperation and…

Ah fuck it, who his he kiddin? He'd done it purely out of spite.

Picking Linda Blair up by the scruff of her neck, Chibs had stalked down the hall to the bathroom.

The running water and the feline making a god awful racket had woken Juice, who came charging into the room eyes wide. He'd taken one look at the shower and yanked the door open to rescue the idiot.

While getting rubbed down, it felt like the cat was giving him the finger a look that said hey numpty, don't you wish this were you?

While refraining from strangling the beast, Chibs tried to explain himself but his voice might as well have been coming from the cat's arsehole for all the good it did. Juice was too busy cooing and fawning over the drowned sewer rat.

Feeling like a slighted third wheel which just pissed him off more, Chibs had stomped out and grumbled under his breath about ugly mingers and whipped boyfriends.

Going into their bedroom he slammed the door behind him for good measure. Unfortunately, Juice had been following close behind. Not only had he just slammed the door in his lover's face, the other man had heard what he said.

Chibs had ended up exiled to his side of the bed.

On the edge.

With the very wet and cold cat from hell against his back.

He had been a right bastard the next morning. A smarter man would have given him a wide berth. Juice had always been a little slow.

He'd managed to roll Chibs onto his back without getting swatted though so maybe Juicy boy wasn't the whipped one after all.

In any case, warm soft lips wrapped around his cock.

For the next twenty minutes Juice slurped the man's brains out as if they were spiraling up and down continuously through a crazy straw.

Chibs smiled as he remembered the bone deep satisfaction. Not only from Juicy but from the cat's displeasure at being dislodged from her sleeping spot. She'd been deposited on the floor.

For her own sake, she'd stayed quiet. If she'd started whinging again, Chibs is positive there would have been a collision of between her and a pillow.

Chibs was snapped out of that memory by Juice asking about breakfast. Yeah, breakfast sounded good right about then. He watched as Juice placed Kiki back between them and got up.

He leaned back against the headboard, just looking. He loved admiring the muscles of his boy's back. Strong shoulders, sharp shoulder blades, and miles of smooth caramel and peach tones. The delicate small of the back and the firm hips Chibs loved to encircle with his arms and fingers.

How he got this lucky was beyond him but he wasn't going to question it. Looking the way he looked, well sometimes it made him think.

He was in shape, no doubt about that. That was just his life.

His face on the other hand. He'd been living with the scars for more years than he could count. Every once in a while though, he'd think about them.

How harshly did they stand out in the kitchen? When he went out in public with Juice and other people took one look at him and hurried past? Did it bother Juice? Did he wish Chibs didn't look like he did?

Chibs rolled his eyes and shook his head, stopping himself. He was being a girl and he knew it. Besides, Juice was walking out the door, telling him to get his ass out of bed and downstairs.

He got himself dressed, wearing his usual weekend attire: black wife beater and black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. No shoes, and sunnies at their usual spot on top of his head.

He pads out of the bedroom and as usual, Kiki follows him. He starts to descend the stairs and again like usual, Kiki darts around his feet. Little bitch is going to trip him one of these days, he knows it.

He hears drawers opening and clanging in the kitchen. It's a good thing he doesn't really sleep in on the weekends. Juice, not intentionally, is loud enough to wake the dead on some mornings. When Juice is up, the rest of the world should be too.

Chibs steps into the kitchen and sees Juice at the stove. He is wearing gray sweatpants that ride low on his hips. Chibs has warned the younger man about how dangerous it is to cook without a shirt on.

Rolling his eyes good naturedly, he clears his throat. Juice doesn't turn around but he looks over his shoulder.

"I'm making pancakes, scrambled eggs and sausage."

He makes a noise of acknowledgment and takes a seat at the table. Sifting through the newspaper, he finds the comics and sets them aside for Juice. He's in the middle of the sports section when Kiki decides to join him.

She stands on the edge of the table, her back legs on the table and her front legs on his thighs. This makes reading the paper slightly more difficult.

She pushes the paper inward with her head and starts meowing for attention. He growls softly at her and Juice glances back to see what's going on.

"Aw Chibbie, she just wants some affection. Don't ignore her."

Chibs ignores Juice and Kiki while resituating the paper. Well at least he tries to. Kiki has taken it upon herself to jump from table to lap.

Chibs now has the cat and newspaper on his lap. The paper is wrinkled worse now, and as much a surly grouch as it makes him, Chibs hates it when their newspaper is too wrinkled.

He huffs and places the paper on the table, making sure to fold it neatly. He plucks Kiki off his lap and sets her firmly on the table.

He leans close to her face and says clearly, "stay".

She leans in and licks his nose. A soft snort is heard from the counter behind him. He turns around and glares at Juice, who is loading flapjacks onto a plate. Juice shrugs innocently but his grin widens when Chibs turns back around.

He knows the cat is constantly on Chibs' last nerve and the older man to his credit keeps his temper in check.

Well except for the shower incident but he doesn't blame Chibby for that. The guy had been plastered and Juice had gotten his by keeping Kiki in between them in bed that night. He chuckles at the memory of Chibs being a grouchy bear the next morning.

A blush creeps to his cheeks when he remembers how the rest of that morning had gone. He'd practically sucked the guy dry and dear god the words coming out of Chibby's mouth. He is pretty positive some of them weren't English or Scottish.

Shaking his head, he begins to bring the plate of flap jacks and toast over. He sets the plates down and then goes back to get the orange juice, milk and syrup.

At the beginning of their relationship, Juice had resented the lack of help he'd gotten when preparing breakfast.

After hearing Chibs' story of nearly burning his old place down when trying to operate the microwave, that resentment had lessened considerably. Plus, the man was just not a morning person.

Having the sense to make breakfast at 8 a.m was a stretch for the Scotsman. Never mind keeping a cap on his surliness until he'd had something to eat.

Yeah, Juice was better off making breakfast by himself. He didn't mind though. He liked those moments to himself in the morning.

Although some of those moments were interrupted by Chibs and Kiki, of all things. Kiki was a morning cat definitely. Mixing an exuberant morning cat with a surly non-morning Scotsman made for rough times.

Juice usually played referee between the two and it looked like he'd have to in a few minutes. Kiki was eyeing the food. She for some reason had always been partial to toast. Not eating it but dragging a piece or two away when neither man was watching.

The odd piece of toast had even showed up in their bed on a few occasions. Juice always found it funny while Chibs...not so much really.

He knew he should put his foot down more when Kiki pulled stuff like that. After all Chibs was his boyfriend and he didn't want the other man to think Juice didn't care how annoyed he got sometimes. The older man just made it so funny Juice couldn't help himself.

Juice sat back down at the table and both men began their breakfast. Juice piled three pancakes on his plate and Chibs did the same.

Thank god their lifestyle was the way it was, minus the death and blood. Otherwise they would have gotten fat a long time ago.

Chibs poured himself some juice and after gulping down half the glass in one go, he started in on his pancakes. Juice chewed his own food quietly, silently observing the other man.

It was rare for him to be able to do that. Where he could just observe Chibs in a different element. One without violence, blood and death.

Not that Chibs was a ray of sunshine outside of the club. Fucking far from it. But he was different.

His clothing for one, not that he was complaining. Chibs' upper body looked great in his ratty wife beaters. The sweatpants hung low on his hips, his long legs framed nicely by the threadbare material.

His shoulders were a little more loose, his smile more crooked and boyish. The ever present sunglasses perched atop his head and brown locks streaked with gray tucked behind one ear. He was a little more at ease and this felt a little more like Filip than Chibs.

Juice enjoys seeing that. He sees glimpses of who Filip was before he was Chibs. He sees Filip within Chibs. That's what he is the most grateful for.

Filip isn't completely gone.

But therein lies a small problem. He knows both are still there, but sometimes they switch themselves up on him. At the clubhouse and when shit hits the fan, it's Chibs through and through.

It's other times that have him a little worried. The transitions that make sense he can deal with. When he gets hurt, Chibs the bear bastard merges with Filip in a violent, gripping collision to help him get better.

On days when they get a break, when they can be lazy and somewhat carefree. He sees it. He sees the personas get clumsy, tugging for equal amounts of blanket like siblings would.

Certain aspects of Chibs start bleeding into Filip and sometimes, the words and gestures Juice tries to sop up the mess with feel like too thin tissues.

He sometimes manages to get Chibs out of the house, either as far as the porch or on walks. Sometimes the grocery store.

Juice enjoys the people, enjoys watching them. Seeing how others that don't live the kind of life they do live theirs.

Chibs though keeps his head down and his shoulders constantly brush up against Juice's. At the grocery store, he knows what people see when they look at him and Chibs. Even though they don't advertise their relationship, they still probably look like an odd pair.

But Juice has seen the other reactions. The mistrust, the fear and suspicion. Chibs' build and somewhat tall stature ward others off. Worst of all though is the revulsion.

He sees it on the faces of mothers hiding their children. That pettiness shows itself because of the scars.

Juice feels slightly guilty. On more than one occasion, he has been grateful for them. They make most of the people the club deals with uneasy.

But other times, he knows Chibs gets self-conscious about them. Even ashamed of them. On their ordinary days, he doesn't know what to do with himself sometimes, what to do with the reactions he provokes from some people.

Juice has seen him stand in the bathroom shaving, still careful after all this time not to catch the razor. Then he will stand there and just look. Juice wonders what he sees, what he doesn't. He wonders if Chibs wishes they would disappear.

It feels like a stupid thing to wonder. Of course the man would probably prefer to look like everyone else. But the marks are so Chibs, it feels like a piece of him would disappear if the scars vanished tomorrow.

Still, Juice hates that the man doubts himself that way. Certain comments he has made in the short time they've been together have clued Juice in. Chibs doesn't think someone like him deserves someone like Juice.

Juice needs to do something to help him stop thinking like that. He has to be smart about it though. The guy hates pity and can tell fake sentiments from a mile away. Juice isn't sure how, but he will show Chibs how wrong he is.

Author's Note: Good god that's a lot of letters in a multitude of specific orders. Well, again I hope you didn't throw things at your screen while screaming "get on with it!" lol. Alright, happy evening or morning or afternoon!