January 19th, 2005
Tacoma, Washington
It shook her to her core, whenever Happy came to her apartment with blood on his clothes. He had come home this way several times, and had his regular pattern of grabbing a beer, shedding anything blood-stained in the bathroom, and parking himself on the couch to watch cartoons until he fell asleep. It was the only time that he really acted that way. Any other day, he would sit around and talk to her, or look over her shoulder while she was working, but when there was blood on him, he was a different person.
She tended to avoid him when she saw the blood. If he was in the bathroom, she was in her bedroom. If he was in the living room, she was in the bathroom, scrubbing his clothes with gloves and hydrogen peroxide. When he finally fell asleep, she slept in the room that he wasn't in (although she somehow always woke up the next morning in bed next to him, no matter where she had fallen asleep).
That chilly night in mid-January was no exception.
Happy walked in, with blood staining the front of his white t-shirt, and Sarah tensed. He gave her a nod, at her spot in the living room, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. When he went to the bathroom, she shuffled all of her books and papers together on the coffee table, and dropped them on her desk in the bedroom. A moment later, she heard the television turn on, and the thud of his heels against the coffee table as he stretched out his legs, and she quietly slipped into the bathroom.
She kept a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide under the sink, along with her other cleaning supplies, and a pair of green, vinyl gloves that came up to her elbow. The sponge she had been using on his last few shirts was dirty, so she pulled a fresh one out of the pack and soaked it. There was a familiar sizzle as she pressed the sponge against the dried blood, the reaction generating a thin layer of yellowish foam as she worked. After a couple of minutes of rubbing, she rinsed the shirt in cold water, and tossed it right into the washing machine. She had a couple of other things to wash as well, to make a full load of whites that she could also add bleach to, and slipped out of the bathroom to empty them out of her hamper.
When she walked through the living room again, with a bundle of white clothes in her arms, he was staring at her. His eyes followed her until she disappeared back into the bathroom, and she released the breath that she hadn't realized that she was holding.
"You're acting weird," he said suddenly, appearing in the doorway, and she gasped, clutching her chest as the clothes tumbled to the floor. He reached down and picked them off the floor, while she still stood frozen in shock. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," she said softly, taking the clothes back from him and shoving them in the washer.
"Sarah," he said firmly.
She shrugged, unsure of how to answer him, and turned her attention back to the laundry. She poured a generous amount of detergent into the little measuring cup cap, but Happy grabbed her hand before she could reach up to put it into the washer. She jumped again, expecting that she would spill the detergent, but he was faster, plucking the cup from her hand and setting it on the counter.
"What's going on?" he repeated, his tone softer than before.
"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.
The muscles in his jaw clenched. "You're being weird tonight," he told her.
"How am I being weird?" She reached around him for the detergent, and finished getting the laundry ready to spin. "I'm just reacting off of your vibe, that's all."
He scoffed. "And what is 'my vibe,' exactly?"
"A 'don't talk to me or I'll bite your head off' type of vibe," Sarah told him, crossing her arms. "You get that way every time you come home with blood on your shirt. So, I stay out of your way, do the laundry, and sleep on the couch until you stop being moody."
"Are you scared?" he asked.
"No!" she exclaimed, her voice coming out louder than she intended it to. "I'm just trying to be respectful of what I thought you wanted. Look, you hurt people, sometimes even kill them. I've come to accept that that's a part of you, and it's not something that I can change, but I know that you'd never hurt me intentionally. You just give off the vibe that you want space, so I give you space. I'm sorry if I've been reading it wrong this whole time."
He studied her face for a moment, his dark eyes flicking over her features. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, and she patiently waited for his thoughts to sort themselves out. "I'm not used to coming home to someone after…" he trailed off, and sighed. "I'm not used to sharing the aftermath with other people. This is what I do when I'm alone."
She shrugged. "So you're not used to people being in your space on days like this," she said. "It's okay, I can keep doing what I'm doing, if that's what makes you comfortable."
"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I want to let you in. I miss you." He scratched the back of his head. "I didn't mean to kick you out of the living room."
"I needed a break anyways," she reasoned. "Do you really just leave your bloody clothes in a pile? You know that the longer you wait to get bloodstains out, the greater the chance is that they'll set, right?"
His eyes narrowed. "How do you know so much about cleaning out bloodstains?" he asked.
"I'm female, Hap," she stated. "Obviously, I've stained many a pair of pants and underwear with blood before."
He frowned. "How are you…" The realization finally dawned on him, and he hissed. "That's gross, Sarah."
"So the big, bad Tacoma Killer isn't afraid to get bloody, but is afraid of periods?" she asked, chuckling. She threw her arms around his neck. "Have I finally found a weakness?"
"You know I don't have a weakness," he reminded her, picking her up and setting her on the bathroom counter.
She smiled. "Sure, Jan."
March 11th, 2005
Tacoma, Washington
Lauren had hired a babysitter for their long-overdue girls' night out. Sarah was more than happy to go out with her, even if she had decided to drag her to the SAMTAC clubhouse. Lauren wanted to be able to go home with Lorca at the end of the night, and there was no way that he was going to haul ass to the bars that they usually frequented in Seattle.
She had convinced Sarah to put on a little blue dress, which hugged all of her curves in all the right places, and black stilettos that she had some trouble balancing in. Lauren had chosen black for herself, with flats.
"You have to wear heels, darling," Lauren purred when Sarah had argued with her. "They make your legs look amazing. They just make my feet look big."
And so the pair found themselves at the familiar bar, in a room full of men in kuttes, celebrating whatever the big event was that weekend. There were a couple of men from other charters there. She spotted men with California, Oregon, and even Utah written across the bottom patch of their back rockers. While some of the men would have caught her attention back in the day, she was focused on Happy now.
She was kind of a dirty secret, it seemed. They were in the same room right now, but leagues apart. She sat at the bar, he was playing pool, with his back turned to her. They made eye contact a few times, but nothing more than that, as if they were just checking in on one another to make sure that the other was okay.
"Julia's growing so fast, Sarah," Lauren gushed, already buzzed after her second beer. She hadn't been out drinking since Julia's birth four months ago. "She's in the fiftieth percentile for her weight, whatever that means. The pediatrician says that's a good thing."
"Fiftieth percentile is average," Sarah replied. She had had about twice as much as Lauren, and it was just starting to hit her. "That's really good, Lauren."
"She's got Aaron's eyes, too," Lauren continued. "It's like I'm looking at him whenever I look at her. It's crazy."
Sarah was about to reply when she felt someone's presence next to her, and a hand on her lower back. She turned, expecting to see Happy sitting next to her, but found herself looking at an unfamiliar man. He was leering at her with wild, electric blue eyes, that almost matched her own,
"You're new around here, ain't ya?" he asked her. He seemed to be more focused on her tits than anything else, which made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, before shifting his gaze to Lauren. "You and your friend."
"Actually," Lauren said, in a very matter-of-fact tone that only a drunk person could manage, "we're Old Ladies, so back off, buck-o."
"Lauren!" Sarah scolded gently. The man had an SAA patch on his kutte. He wasn't the kind of person she could talk to like that. "I'm not an Old Lady."
Lauren gasped, and slapped her palms against the table. "What!" she shrieked, causing several people to turn and look at her, as Sarah gestured for her to calm down. "How are you not an Old Lady? You fucking live together!" She had calmed down a little, but still scoffed. "Next, you'll tell me something ridiculous, like he hasn't said 'I love you' yet."
Sarah winced. "Then I won't tell you that," she mumbled.
"Trouble in paradise?" the man next to her asked.
When she finally was able to meet his eyes, his expression quickly switched to shock. There were an alarming amount of similarities in their features, far more than was to be expected in two unrelated people. Her hair, although pulled back from her face, had a similar texture, even though she wore it far longer than he did. Their eyes were both similar shades of blue, and even their noses had very similar shapes.
"I, uh, please don't take this the wrong way, but are you my kid?" he asked, squinting. "I mean, it's like looking at a female version of myself. You look more like me than my damn kids do."
Sarah laughed. "Not unless your name is Alexander," she joked, taking a drink from her beer, but the man's face quickly paled. "Wait, don't tell me your name is actually Alexander." He nodded, and she quickly waved both of her hands. "No, no, that was supposed to be a joke. I know who my father is, and he's not you."
The man clutched his chest. "Thank god, doll, I just near had a heart attack," he replied. "Call me Tig, though. Alexander's far too formal."
He held out his hand for her to shake, and she took it. "I'm Sarah, and this is Lauren."
Tig glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "So which ones of these ugly sons of bitches do you ladies belong to?" he asked.
Lauren had gotten distracted by the woman sitting on her other side, who wore sparkly earrings that had completely caught her attention, leaving Sarah to entertain Tig by herself. "We don't belong to anyone," she replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow, "but Lauren's married to Lorca, and me, well, my not-Old Man is keeping it all on the down low, and I'm choosing to respect that." She took another drink. "Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
He turned in his seat, so his back rested against the bar, and looked out over the sea of bodies. After a moment of watching, a slow grin spread across his face. "It's Happy, isn't it?" he asked, and Sarah's jaw almost dropped. He squinted, and his head tilted to the side. "Nah, it couldn't be Happy. Not with the way that sweetbutt's hangin' on to him."
Her heart sank as she looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Happy was facing away from her, a pool cue in hand, with a blonde woman hanging on his side. His arm was wound around her waist, and she was leaning her head against his shoulder. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and she signaled the prospect behind the bar to pour her a shot.
"Well, it was lovely chatting with you, Tig," she said quietly. He had to lean in a little bit to hear her voice over the noise of the crowd. "I'm gonna go home now."
She stood up quickly, maybe too quickly, and felt the blood rush from her head. Her hands gripped the bar as the dizziness hit her, and she swayed backwards slightly. "Woah," Tig said, planting his hand firmly between her shoulder blades to keep her from falling backwards. "You got a ride?"
"Nah, I'll walk," she mumbled, looking around for her purse. "It's only a couple of miles."
"No offense, doll, but you won't even make it to the door," he chuckled. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, and she leaned against him. "I'll make sure you get home safe, call you a cab or something."
She sighed. "Is that some lame attempt at getting me in bed?"
"Nah, you look too much like you could be my kid," he laughed. "I'm kinky, but that's a line I ain't gonna cross."
After a moment of consideration, she relented, letting more of her weight sag against him. She didn't trust him, but she also didn't have a lot of options right then. He walked slowly with her towards the door, nodding to a brother here and there as they moved. The dizziness had taken a greater hold, and her vision was starting to spin.
The last thing that she remembered was the cool rush of winter air as she was pulled out into the parking lot.
March 12th, 2005
Tacoma, Washington
Sarah's head was pounding, and her mouth was as dry as the desert in the summer. She hadn't been hungover in years, since she was an undergrad, but somehow, she seemed to be suffering now. As she crawled out of bed, she realized that she was alone, and wearing nothing but her panties. Her clothes were in her laundry basket, and she rather suspected that she had taken them off herself.
The night, for the most part, was a blur. She remembered going to the clubhouse with Lauren, and meeting Tig. Oh, she thought to herself, things suddenly clicking in her brain. That was Tig, the one Kozik had told her about the very first time they had met. And she remembered Happy, of course, with some blonde wrapped around him, and the spike of jealousy that had stabbed her heart.
She understood that Happy didn't want to mix his club life and his personal life. She understood that that meant she was a sort of secret, with only a couple of his brothers actually knowing that they lived together. He would only ever spend a few nights a week with her, and she rather suspected that it was to maintain the illusion that he still had his own apartment, at least in the eyes of his brothers. He had even been hesitant to have her go to the club party the night before.
With a groan, she pulled on her robe, tying the sash tightly around her waist. She stumbled out of her bedroom, blinking as her eyes adjusted to her sunlit living room, and made her way into the kitchen. The coffeemaker was all set to go, a genius idea she had come up with the afternoon before, and all she had to do was press the power button. She inhaled deeply as the beans began to brew, and sighed.
That was when she noticed the body on her couch.
It wasn't Happy, but Tig, stretched out in her living room, one arm thrown over his eyes to protect them from the sun. His boots were by the door, and his kutte draped across the coffee table. At least he made himself at home, she thought with a smirk, pulling out two coffee mugs from the cabinet. Considering how close he was to the coffeemaker, he'd wake up soon enough.
As she poured a glass of water, her front door opened and closed softly, and she knew that Happy was back. He slid behind her, pressing a kiss to her temple as his hand glided over her lower stomach, fiddling with the knot in her robe.
"Not now," she whispered hoarsely, taking a sip of her water. "I'm hungover, and we've got company."
He glanced over to the couch, and growled. Before she could stop him, he was across the room, his hands grasping Tig's collar and yanking him off the couch. "You fuck her?" he growled, pinning Tig against the wall.
"What? No, man, no way," Tig replied, raising his hands, as Sarah placed her hand on Happy's shoulder. "She's like my daughter."
"Seriously, Happy?" Sarah raised her voice and crossed her arms. "You come home and accuse me of sleeping with someone after I had to watch some blonde crawl all over you last night?"
Happy's attention snapped to her, and his glare softened. He slowly released Tig, so he fell back down onto the couch. "You weren't supposed to see that," he muttered.
She considered his words carefully. He had put it on her. It was something that she wasn't supposed to have seen, not something that wasn't supposed to have happened. He had let it happen. How far had he let it go? She knew that he wasn't into sweetbutts, that he had his preferences, but would he have taken her down if that's what his brothers had expected of him. Her brain spiralled deeper. There was no way this was the first time that it had happened. He knew what he was doing. It was a pattern. He never had told her that she was enough, had he? Or that he loved her? Had he just basically been stringing her along for the last year and a half?
Sarah looked down at her feet. "You need to leave," she whispered.
Happy took a step forward, and put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked it off. "Sare…"
"You heard me, Happy," she growled, her head snapping up. "You need to leave. It's been almost two fucking years, and you still can't figure out if we're exclusive or not. You practically live here. I do you goddamn laundry. Your mom taught me how to cook. But I still can't figure out if you're stringing me along or not. And before we have that conversation, which I'm sure still won't go anywhere, you need to leave, so I can cool down."
The muscles in his jaw tensed. "I'm not stringing you along," he stated evenly. "I love you."
She sighed. "Please don't try and make me less angry with you by telling me that you love me when I'm furious," she replied. "It's going to have the opposite effect."
Happy sighed, and kissed her forehead. "I'll give you some space," he said quietly. "I'll be back tonight."
He kept his promise and left, leaving Sarah standing in her living room with Tig on the couch. She sighed, and flopped down next to him, her hands woven into her hair, and released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. She now had the rest of the day to figure her shit out, and she was going to take advantage of every minute.
"If it helps, I think he really does love you," Tig told her, and she glared at him. "I'm serious. I've known him for a long time, since he got locked up back in '87, and he's never acted like that around a woman before." Tig sighed, and rubbed his face. "Look, our world's complicated. But he comes home to you, and in the biker world, that's all that matters."
She chewed on her thumbnail as his words sank in, and stood up to go grab her cups of coffee. "Maybe you're right, maybe you're not," she replied. She'd figure that out tonight.
A/N: Thank you all for the follows and favorites, and especially your lovely reviews! You guys are awesome!