The sound that woke Jax from his restless slumber was not one he was accustomed to. It was a squeaking, almost bubbly sound. A child? He thought maybe he'd left the TV on. He reached for Tara, hoping she'd be in the mood for a little early morning "quality time," but he found her side of the bed empty, the sheets cold.
He sat up sleepily, stretching his arms high above his head as he let out a long, satisfying yawn. He opened his eyes slowly, wishing he'd taken the time to shut the blinds the night before. The sun was too bright, the room covered in a thick haze.
"Good morning," Tara called softly, too sweetly. Jax found her blurry figure seated in a chair in the corner of the room. "Ellie, can you tell Uncle Jax good morning?"
"Ah shit," Jax grumbled. "I forgot you were watching Ellie today." He smiled as they came into focus, the love of his life and his best friend's baby.
Tara gasped, feigning shock. "Uncle Jax forgot about you?! Well it's a good thing one of us is responsible, huh? Aunt Tara would never forget about you, pumpkin." The chunky six month old gurgled and cooed as Tara carried her over to the bed and plopped her down in Jax's lap. He began to protest, but Tara crawled into bed beside them and linked her arms through his, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "She's so sweet," she murmured, brushing the tips of her fingers lightly across one of Ellie's rosy cheeks.
"Yeah," Jax agreed, unable to muster up a convincing amount of enthusiasm as Opie's daughter drooled all over the sheets he'd just washed the day before. "Tell me why we're doin' this again?"
Tara slapped his bare chest. "Because we love spending time with Ellie," she explained. "And because Donna and Opie have a lot to get done today. Tomorrow's kind of a big day, ya know."
"Do you see how she treats me, Ellie? Your Aunt Tara is abusive!" Jax teased, rubbing the red handprint in the center of his chest. Ellie responded with a slobbery, toothless grin.
"I'm pretty sure," Tara retorted, her lips grazing Jax's ear, "that I treat you just fine."
Jax bit his lower lip, feeling his blood start to rise. "Don't start something you can't finish, Knowles," he warned. Tara smiled, then kissed him on the cheek, letting her lips linger on his skin for just a moment longer than she should have.
"I love you," she whispered.
Jax raised a suspicious eyebrow. "I'm not changing her diaper."
"You're such a jerk," Tara laughed, taking the baby from Jax's arms and holding her close, kissing her fat little hands. "Come here, princess," she said. "We've got a wedding to help plan."
"Wedding of the century," Jax mused, climbing out of bed. He smiled at the way Tara's eyes lingered on the waistline of his boxers. "Is uh…Ellie gonna be taking a nap anytime soon?"
Tara shook her head. "So single minded, you are. We've got a lot to do today ourselves. I'm meeting Donna at the florist at noon. You still have to pick up your tux. And then the bachelor party…" Jax interrupted Tara with a low growl.
Normally a guy looked forward to his best friend's bachelor party, but Jax hated spending any more time with Clay Morrow than was absolutely necessary. And being that Opie's bachelor party was being held at the clubhouse, there would be no way for Jax to escape him.
"Jax," Tara reasoned. "Be nice. This is about Ope, not about your shit with Clay and your mom."
"I know." Jax grabbed his favorite pair of jeans and a clean white t-shirt, then kissed Tara on the forehead. "I'm gonna hop in the shower," he said. "Care to join me?"
"Jax!" Tara scolded him, picking up a pillow and tossing it in his direction as he walked away. He chuckled, leaving the bathroom door open as he undressed. Hey, a guy could hope. He looked at Tara once more as he climbed into the shower. She was talking to Ellie, completely engrossed in baby babble. Jax smiled. His girl looked good with a baby. She would make a kick-ass mom. Not yet, but someday.
"I look like a fucking penguin." Jax tugged on the sleeves of the tight-fitting tuxedo, unable to escape his reflection in the room of mirrors. Opie stood beside him in a nearly matching tux, an amused grin on his face. "You're enjoying this too much," Jax accused.
"Hey, we're in this together right?" Opie teased.
Jax pulled on the uncomfortable jacket collar. "I'm not the asshole that decided to get married."
"Yeah," Opie conceded, his tone changing rather suddenly. His face was pale as beads of sweat formed on his temples and upper lip.
"You alright, bro?" Jax asked, buttoning and unbuttoning the jacket in the mirror as he spoke.
"I'm good," Opie lied. "I just, uh…" his voice trailed off as he nervously cleared his throat. "You think I'm making a mistake, Jax? Getting married. I mean, we're not even eighteen. We had to get our parents' permission, for fuck's sake."
"I still don't know how the hell you guys got Donna's parents to agree to it," Jax chuckled. Opie held out his arms and spun slowly, showing off his tux. He never would have chosen a formal wedding if he'd had a say. But that was the only condition under which Donna's parents would allow her to get married at seventeen- if they did things 'right.' Right, to them, meant tuxedos and fancy dresses and flowers and churches- the whole nine yards.
Jax watched as Opie sauntered over to the winged-back chair outside his dressing room. He sat slowly, placing his hands on his knees. Jax couldn't tell for sure, but they seemed to be shaking. Opie was the epitome of cold feet.
"Am I making a mistake?" he asked again, more of himself than of Jax. Even though Opie towered over most men, all Jax saw when he looked at him was the same goofy kid he grew up with- the one that lost his two front teeth when he crashed his Huffy into a parked car, the one who stayed up for forty eight straight hours after seeing A Nightmare on Elm Street, even though his dad told him he couldn't watch it. He was Jax's best friend, his brother.
So a huge part of Jax wanted to tell him that yes, he was way too young to get married, that they were still just kids. But Opie was a father now. He had a family. While Jax was busy playing house with Tara, Opie was building a home with Donna and Ellie. He'd become a man, without Jax even noticing.
"Nah, man," was all Jax could say. "You're not makin' a mistake. You're doin' the right thing. If anyone's making a mistake, it's Donna, for marrying your ugly ass." Jax waited until Opie cracked a hint of a smile, then punched him in the arm.
"Thanks, bro," Opie muttered, his color returning to normal.
"Hey, I'm your best man, right?"
"Always," Opie agreed.
"Can we get out of these monkey suits and get the fuck out of here?" Jax asked. "This is startin' to feel a little gay."
The music blaring throughout the clubhouse while topless dancers pranced around on the bar was searing into Jax's brain. It was too loud. There were too many people. And he'd had too much to drink. Gemma was going to kill him. Tara was going to kill him. Hell, Donna was going to kill him if he was sick and hungover on her wedding day. He glanced at Opie, who was reluctantly receiving a lap dance while Otto and Tig stood behind him, enjoying the show. His cheeks were stained scarlet with embarrassment, his eyes glossy from the alcohol. This was not good.
Jax held his head in his hands and closed his eyes, trying to get the spinning to stop. Suddenly, the room went silent. For a moment, Jax thought he'd passed out. But then he heard his step-father's booming voice.
"Attention, everyone," Clay demanded. "I got somethin' to say." Jax opened his eyes, surveying the room. Clay stood in front of the doors to the club's meeting room, a plainly wrapped white box in his hands. Piney stood beside him. Opie was both curious and mortified, the stripper still half in his lap, looking like she was trying to decide if she should keep dancing or leave the room.
As soon as Clay was satisfied that all eyes were on him, he motioned for Opie to join him at the front of the room. "I just wanted to congratulate the man of the hour," he began, smiling as the club responded with rowdy hoots and hollers. "Ope, I've known you since you were in diapers. And now you're changin' 'em yourself." He paused for effect, giving everyone a chance to laugh at his comedic genius. Jax felt sick to his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol, or because of Clay.
"Anyway," Clay continued. "Your dad and I, and the rest of the club, we got ya a little somethin'." He handed the box he was holding to a perplexed Opie. Piney beamed with pride. Before Opie even opened it, Jax knew. Still, when his best friend pulled out the black leather kutte, a "Prospect" patch sewn onto the back, Jax felt like an anvil had been dropped on his chest.
He and Opie had always planned on prospecting together and patching in together. It was one of the few things in his future Jax was certain about. And now Opie had a good year on him. He'd be patching in right about the time Jax became a prospect. Opie seemed to come to the same realization pretty quickly, immediately searching Jax out in the crowd. Jax tried to smile, but was only able to force a small, unconvincing smirk.
"I don't understand," Opie mumbled, eyeing the vest with wonder. "I'm not 18."
Piney chuckled. "I know how old ya are, shit head! I watched the doctor smack your pink, wrinkly ass the day you were born." Opie looked at his father, shaking his head.
"But the bylaws…" he protested.
"Are negotiable," Clay finished for him, "if the club votes unanimously."
"And we voted," Piney said, taking the kutte from Opie's hands. The entire room cheered, including the strippers who had no fucking clue what was going on, as Piney slipped the kutte over Opie's shoulders. The guys rose from their seats, congratulating Opie and hugging him and Piney. He was no longer "just a kid." He was one of them. Their brother.
Jax tried to catch Opie's eye as he headed toward the door, but his friend was lost in a sea of leather and facial hair. Once outside, Jax sat atop the picnic table, breathing in the cool evening air, trying to calm his nerves. Clay did this. He knew Jax and Opie were a package deal, they always had been. This was his way of punishing Jax for not accepting him as Gemma's husband. When the door squealed open behind him, Jax didn't look up.
"Everything good?" Clay asked in that brisk way of his as he took a seat beside Jax.
"Yup," Jax said curtly, his hands balled into fists. Tonight would be the night he clocked Clay dead in the jaw. He'd been fighting back the urge for over a year, but no more.
"You know," Clay said nonchalantly, almost sounding a little nervous. "There was another vote last night."
"Oh yeah?" Jax kept his cool, but his heart was racing. What vote? Was making Opie a prospect before him not good enough? What, did he have them vote to not let Jax in at all? Could he even do that?
"Yeah. The club voted to bring in another prospect, not just Ope." Jax turned to his step-father, speechless, noticing for the first time that Clay was holding another box, just like the one he'd given Opie. "But I thought, before I gave you your kutte, that we should have a little heart-to-heart, you know, man-to-man."
"Is that so?" Jax sneered. Of course there were conditions. With Clay, there was always a catch.
"Look, son, I know you're not happy I married your mom. But I hope in time you'll get over that. I've known you your whole life, was at the hospital the day you were born. Your dad was like a brother to me, and I've always looked at you as sort of my surrogate son."
"So, what, you married Gemma to make me your actual son? Sorry, but it doesn't work that way…Clay." Jax's face was starting to hurt from clenching his teeth together so tightly.
"I married your mother because I love the hell out of that woman. I want to take care of her. And you."
"I don't need anyone to take care of me," Jax shot back.
Clay nodded in agreement. "That's mostly true. I know you're almost a man now, but I still see you as the little shit who used to steal sips of my beer when your dad wasn't looking, and crashed my bike into the dumpster when you were twelve, trying to take your little girlfriend to the movies."
Jax laughed involuntarily. He hated Clay so much now, he almost forgot that there was a time he used to love him. Clay had always been family. He was the one that was there for Jax after Thomas' death, when both of his parents checked out emotionally. And he was the one that held both Jax and Gemma up through JT's death just a few years later. But was he only doing that because he wanted to slither into JT's place, both at the head of the table and in his bed? Jax had convinced himself that was the case, but now he wasn't so sure.
"I know you're still pissed at me, Jax, but that doesn't erase our past together, and it doesn't change the fact that I'm a big part of your future. Your dad and I started this MC together, and I know he always meant for it to be yours someday. But just because you're a Teller and my step-son doesn't change the fact that you have to respect the club president. And it just so happens that right now, that person is me."
Jax was silent, searching for flaws in Clay's logic, but he couldn't find any. As much as he hated it, he knew the old man had a point.
"So before I bring you in as a prospect, I need to know that you can respect me as your president, same as any other prospect or club member. When you're wearing that kutte, you're mine. End of story."
Jax nodded. He'd had similar talks with JT before his death, about the fact that they wouldn't be father and son when it came to club business, they would be president and prospect. It was the way it had to be.
"Think you can save the 'I hate my step-dad' shit for at home?" Clay asked.
"Of course," Jax agreed. Clay smiled, standing up as he opened the box he was holding.
"Then this is yours, son." Jax stood, allowing Clay to help him with his kutte. It smelled exactly the way he always imagined it would. Jax turned to face his step-father, unable to keep the smile from his face as he ran his hands down the smooth, soft leather. "Looks good," Clay mused.
"Thank you," Jax said. Clay clapped him on the shoulder, then headed back into the clubhouse without another word.
Jax was officially a SAMCRO prospect. The moment he'd been waiting for his entire life had arrived. And yet, it felt a little too empty. He'd dreamt of the day he would get his kutte probably hundreds of times over the years. But in every dream, his father was the one giving it to him, beaming with pride as Thomas looked on with both jealousy and admiration.
Jax took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't let himself go down that road. Not now. Not here. This was Opie's night. He closed his eyes, allowing the tears that had been welling up to roll down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly, steeled himself, and opened the clubhouse door as SAMCRO's newest prospect.