So we're officially going M in this chapter and the story will stay that way for the duration. I want to thank Cia for looking over the scene with Juice and send a special shout out to all my reviewers. You guys are awesome. I'm having a blast writing this and it's all because of you.

For those of you who have never seen a classic Chevelle the link is on my profile.

As always, enjoy.

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Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. Leila kicks out viciously at the front tire of her 1970 Chevelle convertible. She will never admit it to Tig but she loves the car like a child. She'd been furious with him when he'd shown up in Salt Lake two years prior but the 450 horsepower black beauty he'd pulled into her driveway made everything a little bit better.

Now, however, it was useless and smoking on the side of the road and Leila is more than furious with the entirety of her life. It is the day after the shootout at Teasers. She had gone to bed planning to stay another day but in the early morning light betrayal had settled in her stomach like a rock and she'd found herself unable to face the MC, not to mention Tig. She'd packed before they'd woken up and was just about to turn out of Charming when the damn car overheated. Story of her goddamned life.

Gathering up her things, she slams the driver's side door, and starts the long walk back to the garage. She isn't going to call for a ride; she still had a bit of pride left.

She has barely made it a mile when she comes upon the familiar sign and she makes a spontaneous left turn. The cemetery is too green, too bright in the winter sun for all the sadness it holds but Leila doesn't hesitate as she moves towards the back. The newer graves are set apart from the older ones. They are well maintained and the paths through them are regularly traveled with the visits of loved ones. She knows exactly where she's going.

The headstone is black granite, large and well carved. Tig hadn't skimped on Margaret's burial. In fact, in the months after her death he'd literally thrown money at Leila in an attempt to avoid the actual responsibility of having a 16 year old. Leila settles herself onto the cold, wet, grass before the stone and reaches out to trace the engraving. "Margaret Carson, 1962-1996. Mother, Lover, and Friend. Tig had wanted to bury her with his crow on the headstone but Leila had refused. If he hadn't been man enough to give it to Margaret life he certainly wasn't going to stick it on her in death. What's more he'd still technically been married to Dawn and Fawn's mother.

"I miss you Mama." Leila's voice breaks on the words and she has a rush of things she wants to ask. Would you have protected me? Would we still be in Charming? Would you tell me that SAMCRO is family and family is everything? Would you be proud of who I've become? She doesn't bother to voice the thoughts, she'd spent a lot of time talking to the cold black stone in the year after her mother died and she knows she'll find neither answers or comfort here. Margaret "Cat" Carson was dead and she'd left her kitten to fend for herself. Leila dregs up the only bit of advice on the MC her mother ever gave her, "Take the help they're offering but never feel beholden. SAMCRO didn't make you, make yourself."

Words to fucking live by. With a resigned sigh Leila pulls the phone from her bag and makes the call.

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It is 10pm and the Friday night after church party is in full swing. After Leila made the call from the cemetery Bobby and Piney showed up with the tow truck. She had no doubt they'd all drawn lots at the garage to see who would have to face her. Bobby didn't look happy and Piney just gave her a quick once over, taking in her red eyes and sad posture in front of the gravestone, and shook his head. They'd swung around to pick up the Chevelle and ended up right back at Teller Morrow.

It took Lowell Jr two hours to give the Chevelle a once over and Leila had no doubt he was being intentionally distracted to draw things out. Though he was damn quick to deliver the news. The Chevelle was going to need some serious work, parts had to be ordered, it would take several days before the car was close to road ready. Leila only had to glance at Gemma's triumphant face to become suspicious. She wondered if the queen snuck out in the dark to do her own dirty work or if she set a minion to the task. The big money was on minion; Leila had never known Gemma to get her own hands dirty if she could help it. That woman lived by the phrase plausible deniability.

Unable or unwilling to face the MC Leila spent most of the day pacing around Tig's pathetic dorm room working herself into a rage. She'd planned to stay trapped in the tiny 11'x12' room until someone came to the door with news that her escape route was finally fixed but the sounds of the party starting had created an overwhelming desire to get well and truly drunk. So here she was, backed into a dark corner of the clubhouse's main room, a very large whiskey balanced on her knee.

Chibs had so far been the only brother to make any attempt at conversation. He'd caught her near the bar, sliding his arm around her waist he'd been leaning down to whisper something in her ear when she pulled away. "Don't you fucking touch me." She must have looked fierce when the words left her mouth because his eyes widened and he held up his hands in a sign of surrender. He hadn't tried again, and was even now settled into one of the couches a very trashy looking blonde on his lap. He was having a good laugh with one of the visiting nomads. Well bully for him.

Her eyes have just fallen on Bobby taking a body shot off a croweater at the bar when her brooding is interrupted.

"Hey," Juice is standing in front of her shifting nervously from foot to foot. The man never stopped moving. "I know you're mad at everyone and all but I thought…" his words trail off under the intensity of her stare.

"You thought what?" She can't help but feel bad for the bouncy prospect; this is the first time since she's met him that he's looked nervous.

"I dunno. I just thought maybe you'd still like some company." She considers him for a moment and a thought occurs to her.

"Did you know, about last night I mean? Did you know what they were asking me to walk into?" Left foot, right foot, left, his eyes flick around and she knows he's trying to decide how much club business he can really discuss with her.

"No," he admits finally, "I, you know how it is. The prospect is the last to know anything. I didn't even know there was anything going down until Piney shoved a rifle in my hands and told me I'd be watching the door."

"Would you have told me not to go if you'd known?" She hates herself for asking because she knows the honest answer. The club always comes first, but she feels lost and alone. She just wants confirmation that maybe someone out there cares.

"Absolutely." His voice is firm and his warm brown eyes seek out her gold ones. She chooses to believe him because there's nothing else left.

"Well then, take a seat."

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She can't remember whose idea it had been, but someone, she or Juice, had decided they were going to get plastered. They'd been playing never have I ever for hours now, first with beer and then with shots. The party was slowly dying down around them and Leila is painfully aware of the soft moans coming from the pool table where Bobby is face down in a red head.

"She's got crabs." Juice interrupts her discomfort his eyes trained on the sight across the room and for some reason this is the funniest thing Leila has ever heard.

She giggles into her glass, "I don't even want to know how you know that."

Juice manages to give her a comically hurt look, "Her roommate told me thank you very much." He's trying and failing to look indignant.

"Sure." Leila doesn't know when she got so flirty but between the alcohol and the easy company of the prospect it seems like nothing to press a hand to his chest. "I want a cigarette," she declares.

"You have a cigarette." He laughingly nods towards the burning one settled into the bar's ashtray.

"I want an outside cigarette." She moves to stand and the room spins. She doesn't even realize she's hit the ground until Juice's face is swimming overhead, warm eyes filled with concern.

"I think," he starts, one big hand reaching down to help her up, "it's time for someone to get to bed."

"You can't tell me to go to bed. You're not my dad," she pouts out the words.

"Thank god for that," he laughs and she's suddenly upright as he gets a grip on her.

They make it across the room and are almost to Tig's dorm when she trips again almost going down on all fours. She cries out when Juice's hand squeezes into the graze on her arm in an attempt to steady her. "Shit!" He turns them surprised at her pain and they end up against the wall. Her back is pressed into the cold drywall and he catches himself, his hand slamming next to her head to keep from crushing her.

He is so close, and his big warm eyes are smiling down at her. He smells like whiskey and leather. "Sorry," he whispers.

"It's okay," she breathes and she can't help herself, trailing a hand down his smiling face.

He kisses her then, his lips warm and soft against hers. The kiss is hesitant and it takes a beat for her booze soaked brain to get with the program. It hits her like a sledgehammer to the stomach; she wants this.

She deepens the kiss immediately, moving her lips against his, and she arches herself off the wall in a move designed to create more contact. His hand tangles in her hair, sliding down to cup the back of her head. He wastes no time in taking control and she's more than willing to let him have it. She grazes his bottom lip with her teeth demanding entrance to his mouth and he growls into her. Oh god.

Things progress quickly from there. His free hand finds her hip and he grips her hard. He's drinking her in like a man dying and she is desperate to move them the last few feet down the hallway and into the dorm room. She pulls away from his mouth breathing hard and he doesn't waste any time attacking the delicate skin of her neck with lips, tongue, and teeth. "Come on," she all but moans the words as she pulls them the last two steps, her hand finally connecting with the cold metal of the door nob.

She pushes him down onto the foot of the bed with a bounce and when she climbs into his lap she finally has the contact she'd been missing. His lips find hers again and she slides a hand through the bristly stripe of his mohawk, grinding herself into his lap.

One of his hands is trailing up under her shirt even as the other reaches around to try and push her boots off. He finds her cloth covered breast and she arches into the warm feeling of his hand. There is a thud as one boot hits the floor and his fingers are sliding under the bra to twist at her nipple. Fire licks through her body at the sensation, she is electric with arousal. Leila tugs at the bottom of his shirt desperate to get her hands on what she knows will be a smooth chest and bunched muscle.

The other boot falls and he breaks the kiss so she can pull his shirt over his head. He's beautiful, all tan and well defined. She traces a tattoo with her finger and he lunges for her mouth again giving her a quick kiss before pulling back to tug her shirt off. Her bra follows quickly and she watches his eyes make a cursory scan of her bare upper body. His puppy dog eyes have been replaced by something unknown and she can't hold back her moan as he dips his head to take one pierced nipple into his mouth. The sensation spreads through her body and she grinds down into his lap, loving the way he bucks up into her. She can feel him hard and ready through the combined fabric of their jeans.

He moves them with a grunt and a bounce. Leila lands on her back and only has a second to appreciate him standing above her before he falls onto the mattress. He catches himself before he can crush her and she is certain she's making too much noise as his mouth goes back to her breast and one hand drifts down between them to tug at the button on her jeans. Yes please. She arches her hips to help him get rid of the pants, kicking them off her ankles and onto the floor.

She has her eyes closed and is just enjoying the feel of him above her when she realizes he's gone still. His eyes are trained down, scanning her body. She feels his fingers trace the puckered skin over her hip and she worries the moment is going to be lost until he starts laughing. "Penguins?" She knows he's talking about the brightly printed boy shorts she'd pulled on that morning. She hadn't planned on getting laid. "You're just incredible." He breathes the words into her neck and she shivers under him reaching for his crotch with a frustrated noise. It's time to get this show back on track.

It does the trick. There's a low rumble in his chest and his teeth close over the sensitive skin below her ear. She'll have a mark tomorrow. His belt buckle is digging into the skin of her stomach and she pulls at the closure desperate to feel more of him. Juice sits back and undoes the belt and snap. She follows yanking at both jeans and boxers. His arousal springs forward fully erect and she reaches out for it, velvet over steel. Just what she needs. Her penguins don't make it another moment.

He's on her again and she can fell him pressing at her entrance but he pauses. Is he reconsidering? She chances a glance up at his face and finds his eyes sparkling down at her, teasing. "Please." The word leaves her lips like a prayer and he surges forward burying himself to the hilt.

He fucks like he rides, all rolling muscle and endless energy. She digs her nails into his shoulders, wraps her legs around his waist and just hangs on as he pushes her into the mattress. His mouth tugs at a nipple piercing and she moans long and loud into his chest. They're both breathing hard and he's muttering nonsense into her hair, she has no idea what he's saying. It doesn't matter. One hand is on her hip his fingers tracing the scar and the other slips between them, sliding through her wetness. He's hitting all the right buttons. His lips find hers and he swallows her moan.

Her orgasm builds slowly but when it hits she has to break away from his wonderful lips, arching up into him, her teeth clamp down on his shoulder muffling her shout. He doesn't give her any time to recover as his hips snap forward with more force than before and she can tell he's close from the erratic tempo. "Please, please, please." She's begging and she doesn't care. When he comes it is with her name on his lips and she can feel his low groan all the way down her spine.

They stay connected for a long moment both coming down from the high and Leila is cold the minute he rolls off her landing on his back. He snakes out one long arm pulling her towards him and he isn't satisfied until she's settled against his side, head on his chest. They don't talk. What's the point? That was spectacular. She doesn't even know his real name. She is royally screwed.

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Reviews are welcome!