"I don't think it's supposed to be making this noise," Sunshine said, holding her phone up to the front of her car, the garbled squealing audible on the other end of the phone.
"Can it drive fine? Do you need it to be towed?" thirty miles away, Happy was frowning at the wall of the garage, his own phone pinned between his shoulder and ear, wiping his hands off on a rag.
"She runs fine; she just sounds like she's dying,"
"She?"
"I bought this car when I was twenty, and her name is Freddy Mercury," Sunshine said, a little bashfully, and Happy couldn't help the gruff chuckle, the noise just as abrasive as the rest of him. Chucky, who had never heard Happy laugh before, recoiled from his spot of cleaning the window to the office.
"Freddy Mercury is a man,"
"He's a queen,"
Happy suddenly wished he was anywhere else so he could properly bask in the moment; his seldomly used smile was drawing attention. He tried to duck out of Tig's eye line, but it was too late; he was already walking over.
"Did you like my pun?" Sunshine asked; he could hear the smile in her voice.
"Yes,"
Tig's chest collided with Happy's back, leaning in way too close, his cheek brushing Happy's as he reached for the phone.
"Hi, Sunshine," he called out, narrowly avoiding the gut-punch Happy threw at him.
"Fuck off," Happy growled as Sunshine cheerfully called out a 'Hey, Tiggy!'
"I wanna talk to her next," Tig said, pointing at Happy as he was shoved back, ignoring the murderous glower.
"Bring the car down to the garage; I'll take a look at it," Happy offered, turning his back on Tig.
"I thought you said that you hate working on cars," Sunshine teased.
Happy shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see him. "I like you more,"
There was a pause, and Happy froze, wondering if he said something wrong.
"I'm on my way," she said quietly, hardly giving him enough time to say goodbye before she hung up.
Happy frowned as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. He didn't want to feel sorry for what he said; he meant it. It took a decade of a herculean effort to file back his sharpness, but he sure as shit didn't know what to do to curb his bluntness.
"Dude, what the fuck? I said I wanted to talk to her," Tig complained, throwing out his hands.
"Not on your life," Happy rebuffed, pointing a ringed finger at him.
"You're besties with my old lady," Tig defended, smug as dogshit on a shoe. "I wanna be besties with yours,"
Happy screwed up his face. "Don't ever say besties again,"
~0o0~
"A 2009 Ford Mercury named Freddy Mercury, that is a delightful pun," Tig praised, reaching out to high five Sunshine.
"Thanks," she grinned, reciprocating the motion.
She had been in the clubhouse attached to the garage but never in the garage itself and met her expectations perfectly, greasy, concrete, tools everywhere, the distinct smell of engines and motor oil.
Happy ignored the both of them and popped the hood of the car, for once, not hating the idea of working on an engine.
"When was the last time you got this serviced?" he asked, tossing a look to Sunshine. She leaned in, looking at the engine.
"Usually every year," she tapped a sticker in the corner of the windshield. "Last time was six months ago when I got my oil changed. I usually do it myself, but I didn't have the time."
Tig raised an eyebrow.
"My dad was a farmer," she shrugged. "I can show you how to change a tire on a tractor if you want,"
"Deal," Tig deadpanned, hardly letting her finish the sentence. "You grew up on a farm?"
"No, he managed one for the neighbors. I'd help him after school when I was little. It was fun, I guess; I liked the cows. Except when they'd chase me,"
Tig made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, and Happy didn't have to turn to know that he was grinning at Sunshine. Venus was right; there was such thing as the 'Sunshine effect.'
If Happy were willing to admit it, he'd say he had no fucking clue what was wrong with the engine. It looked like it was in good shape; nothing looked cracked or unscrewed, there was no blinking red sign pointing to the problem either, and he was lowkey hoping for one.
"Good mornin' miss Sunshine," Chibs crowed across the garage, tossing a filthy towel over his shoulder, Glasgow's grin stretched ear to ear.
"Good morning," she smiled back.
"It's two pm," Tig interjected, and Chibs brushed him off.
The roar of motorcycles announced their arrival long before they pulled up the drive, and every head in the garage turned to look at the cacophony.
Jax, Opie, Bobby, Piney, Kozik, and a few members of the Indian Hills crew pulled up, parking their bikes hastily.
Sunshine was immediately and impolitely reminded that the leather vests her eyes now glossed over meant something, something that she didn't have much interest in knowing. She didn't often take solace in being ignorant, especially when she could help it, but this was a fair exception.
Jax stalked across the yard away from his bike; the set of his jaw was cruel, eyes glacial.
"Tig, Hap, a word," he said, the anger audible in his voice. The men glanced at each other and back to their leader and the other members around him.
"Sorry, Sunshine, I need to steal him away for a little bit," Jax offered diplomatically, his smile small and forced.
"...Okay," she replied, confused, shrinking under the inquisitive gaze of the men around him. Happy brushed his hand against hers as he followed the President, Tig at his side.
"Want me ta come too, brotha?" Chibs called after, the concern evident in the furrow of his brow.
"No, you stay and keep Sunshine company. We can handle it," Jax called over his shoulder, the doors closing behind him, the noise sounding vaguely of a threat.
"I hope you can, Jackie boy," Chibs muttered under his breath. "I hope you can."
"I'd ask, but I don't really wanna know," Sunshine gnawed on her bottom lip, eyes lingering on the closed, dirty door they had disappeared through.
"It's a lot easier to not know, trust me, lass." Chibs sighed, sidling up to the propped open hood, and looked down at the engine.
"It looks like your connector hose came undone," he pointed down in the engine.
"That's it?" Sunshine frowned, peering into the hood. "It sounded like all the screws in the whole car were rattling loose whenever I turned the damn thing on,"
"Aye, shouldn't take more than half an hour to fix. You're welcome to go sit in the office if ya want, or you stay out here and keep me company," he grinned, and Sunshine returned the look. Of all the SONS, she found Chibs the least unnerving to be around, besides Happy, of course. She didn't dislike the others; she got along with them great; it was just that Chib's humanity showed the most when he was alone.
"I'll stay out here if you don't mind," she tossed a glance into the empty office.
"Gemma's not here; she's not gonna pop up outta the closet and getcha," Chibs teased, getting to work unscrewing the hose.
"She's a bit... intense. I'd rather not be alone with her again just yet," Sunshine joked back, sitting down in one of the rusted metal folding chairs next to the car.
"Aye, that she is."
Minutes of companionable silence stretched between them, unrushed.
"I'm sure there are a dozen auto shops closer ta your house than this one,"
"I passed by three on the way over," she conceded.
"We have two and a half stars on YELP, as I'm told," Chibs mused. "We aren't exactly known for bein' hospitable, " he raised an eyebrow at her, impossibly brown eyes looking straight into her soul.
"Why wouldn't I come here? It's not a secret that I'm with Happy, right?" her shoulders inched to her ears.
"Well, not anymore,"
"What do you mean?"
Chibs sighed; it wasn't an unkind, impatient noise, just one born of being cursed with the powers of keen observation. "Unsurprisingly, Happy isn't one much for socialization. He doesn't tell us 'bout his life outside of tha club, hell, I've known the bastard for over a decade, and I only learned that he's half Panamanian just a few weeks ago,"
Sunshine had known that little bit of information for months. She kept that to herself.
"He coulda kept ya a complete mystery from us until we all shriveled up and died, and we'd never a'known."
"Oh," Sunshine said, unsure of how else to respond.
"And for tha record, Sunshine," he paused to fix her under those brown eyes again, his words achingly sincere. "I'm right glad he decided ta share ya with us,"
Sunshine's heart fluttered in her chest.
~0o0~
A half a bushel of conversation topics was introduced and discussed, everything from child-rearing to the heavenly melodies of Billie Holiday, all the way to discussing the pros and cons of sleeping in the nude.
The gaggle of bikers that had gone into the building had yet to make a reappearance, so Sunshine matched Chibs' nonchalant energy about the situation. Still, she figured she wouldn't be able to tell if he was faking it or not. His poker face was impenetrable.
Until, of course, it wasn't.
Another bike pulled into the compound, the rider instantly recognizable as soon as he pulled off his helmet.
Juice smiled at them in that dopey way of his as he jogged up to the open garage doors, the sides of his head freshly shaved, cheeks rosy from the ride.
"Hi, guys."
"Juicy boy!" Chibs greeted, grinning widely.
"Somethin' wrong with your car?" Without missing a beat, he was ducked under the hood with Chibs, looking at the engine. "Oh. Just the connector hose. Not too bad," he said, straightening up, missing the glint of pride in Chibs' eye.
Juice glanced around the garage.
"Where is everybody? I don't think I've ever seen you without Happy trailing three feet behind you," he joked.
"Everyone went inside when Jax came," Sunshine provided, unintentionally wiping the smile of his face.
The men glanced to Sunshine, who understood their hesitancy to speak around her about whatever the hell was going on inside the clubhouse, so she made it painfully obvious that she wasn't listening to them.
Chibs leaned closer to Juice to tell him, the tones hushed and inaudible to Sunshine. Though she wasn't paying attention to what they were saying, her periphery couldn't help but notice, but her brain didn't know what it was noticing. It was reminiscent of a gut feeling, her intuition was telling her something, but it never seemed to be bothered enough to clarify.
In her observations of the club, though fleeting and few, she had seen enough to construct an image of their general behavior in her mind. She knew they were close, closer than most adult men, and it made sense because they considered each other brothers. Personal space was never a problem; personal information was shared in disgusting detail, their actions towards each other strange but not unheard of.
That was the reason Sunshine was confused when the scene in the corner of her eye felt different. The two of them were a scant millimeter from touching, chest to chest, murmuring in the other's ear.
It wasn't that they were standing close; it was that they were poised around each other like the minimum distance between two magnets before they slammed together.
It wasn't that they were speaking quietly; it was that Juice fractionally bared his neck further at Chibs' words that ghosted down his throat.
It wasn't that Chib's clapped the younger member on the shoulder as they finished talking; it was the way his fingers curled into the leather, the way Juice leaned into the touch like it was the riptide.
Juice waved to her as he walked through the same door like the others, his eyes lingering on Chibs' for a split second before he, too, disappeared.
It all clicked into place like a puzzle revealing the picture, and Sunshine's eyes widened owlishly, and heat settled into her cheeks.
Chibs glanced at her as he tore his eyes away from the form that had long since retreated through a door, and Sunshine couldn't even pretend to school her features.
He read her face like a book.
For the briefest second, a sliver of panic rushed through his eyes. Not fear, just the innate shock of being seen in the way they had just been. Sunshine would bet her left leg that she was the first to even remotely catch on.
The panic was dead and gone in an impressive amount of time, and in its place was left something a little jagged and unkempt.
"Don't say it. Please, don't say a word," it was calmly spoken, if not sounding like he couldn't care either way, but it was betrayed by the nervous fingers that carded through his hair, negligent of the motor grease on them.
Sunshine knew that this was the closest a man like Chibs would ever get to pleading, and her jaw snapped shut.
"I promise," she responds quietly, not even above a whisper. She almost missed the minuscule nod of his head at her words.
And when he fixed her engine ten minutes later and waved away her offer of money, he finally met her eye again.
"Come get a slice of pie sometime at my Diner, my treat. We can talk about whatever you want, or we can just sit and listen to Billie Holiday," she offers, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.
The look he gives her is ancient and tired, relieved and astounded.
"I'd like that very much, miss Sunshine."
~0o0~
~Two Weeks Later~
~0o0~
The roar of a motorcycle pulled Sunshine away from her content musings at the Diner's counter, pen caught between her teeth as she went over the bank slips.
To her utter shock and delight, it wasn't Happy that walked through the doors.
Not that she was relieved that Happy wasn't there, but the disappointment was instantly replaced with the joy of seeing slicked-backed silvered hair and grinning scars.
"Chibs!" she greeted, rising from her stool.
"Sunny lass! How are ya, darlin'?"
"Better now that you're here," she grinned, walking around the counter. Adding to her surprise, Chibs caught her in a quick but warm hug.
He held her at arm's length away, something exhausted and tense in his eyes. "I was wondering if we could have that pie today,"
"Of course."
~0o0~
Coffee was poured in a mug decorated in a god-awful tartan pattern that had earned Sunshine an amused snort and glittering eyes for her effort.
"I'm married, ya know," Chibs said after several moments of silence spent looking out the window. Sunshine knew from experience that it was better to let people work it out by themselves.
"I have a daughter. I love them both,"
"Of course you do," Sunshine reassured.
"But they haven't been mine in years. They're all the way in Ireland, and I'm here," he took a sip of his coffee.
His eyes were complicated and sad as he looked at Sunshine, face emotionless as he worked through his thoughts, seeming to figure out if he could say them out loud.
"Before Fiona, I had a best mate. His name was Ewan."
Sunshine nodded, prodding him further as he hesitated, giving her an apprehensive look out of the corner of his eye. "We worked together, fought together, lived in this tiny, rundown flat with no hot water above a butcher shop that always reeked like rancid salami. We were foot soldiers for the IRA," the information, while inherently astonishing, wasn't all that uncalled for.
"They didn't care what happened to us; the only ones that cared 'bout us, were us. We were almost killed every day; it was gruelin' and nauseatin', the things we did," he shook his head and rubbed his thumb over his lips like he was searching for a cigarette. "the things we saw. It was horrible; it was a hellish war. It was nothin' but blood and death." he heaved a sigh, managing to look Sunshine in the eye.
"And it was the best three years of my life, all because Ewan was there with me."
Sunshine nodded sagely.
"So, when he was murdered, I could hardly stand to get out of bed in the mornin',"
Chibs didn't shake off the hand that wrapped around his twitching fingers.
"Somethin' happened to Juice the other day," he cleared his throat of the emotion that was trapped there. "and for a split second, I thought for sure that he was gone too, just like Ewan, and all I could think was, 'Jesus fuckin' Christ, I cannot do that again.' And I could hear Ewan in my head," his lip turned up as he spoke. "Fuckin' hell, Filip, you better hold onto him, or you'll put him in the ground just like you did me,"
He stopped for a minute, lost in thought. He swallowed hard and looked out the window.
"I've lost brothers before, and of course it hurts, but never once like that. Not like my fuckin' spine is being ripped from my damned throat,"
He shook his head again, using his free hand to run his fingers through his hair.
"In Ireland," Sunshine started after it was evident that he was paused for a moment. She spoke slowly, not wanting to offend or do something wrong. "Were you ever... with Ewan? Did you ever tell him how you felt for him?"
"I'm not gay-" his mouth froze in place before he could finish the sentence. Every rude word in his lexicon percolated on the tip of his anxious tongue, a piteous and truly pathetic counteraction to the stunning realization that he wasn't completely straight.
"Shite," he exhales, running a hand over his face. "I think I might be,"
"Hey," Sunshine leaned over the table, trying to catch his eye. "Look at me,"
He looked up at her with hooded eyes, not putting in the effort to raise his head.
"Don't go doing that, alright? Don't say it like it's something to worry about, something to hate. Happy told me about Fiona and Kerriane. Did you know that?"
Chibs arched a brow.
"And he told me they're black. Now, tell me, how long has that been seen as acceptable?"
"Not long," he sighed, and she appreciated his response, even if it was just to amuse her.
"Right. Fifty years ago, you would have been arrested, or at the very least, denied your marriage license. So, was it wrong? Was marrying her a sin? Was it bad? Did you incur the wrath of God?"
Sunshine expected Chibs to roll his eyes, to take her words with a joke and brush them off. She wasn't prepared to have the full intensity of his gaze and focus pointed solely at her.
"No. It was the best thing I've ever done." His voice left no room for contradiction.
"You loved her, and it was beautiful, and you wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world, right?"
"Aye."
"So," Sunshine nodded her head at him, both her hands outstretched across the table and holding onto his, drinks were forgotten and pushed aside. "You better hold onto Juice."
Chibs huffed out a laugh that was walking the razor fine edge of tears.
"You really think it's gonna be that easy?"
"No," she conceded. "But it'll be worth it."
With an ancient, curious look on his face, Chibs tilted his head and eyed her up.
"How is it that you've known us for half a year, and you already can figure shit out about us that we can't even open our eyes to?"
She lifted a shoulder. "Impartial view?"
"You're anythin' but impartial, Miss Sunshine. You wear that heart of yours on your sleeve, and you give it to anyone that might need it. Truly, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I don't think this would have ended in a good way if I was left to my own devices."
A ringed finger tapped his silver temple. "Things tend to get wound up tight in here; they can't always get out."
"I'm so impossibly happy that I was able to help you," Sunshine responded, sincerity in every ounce of her voice. It's just who she was.
"You have the empathy of someone who has never been broken, or perhaps someone who has been absolutely shattered,"
His words and low, smooth voice sent shivers down her spine, sure and fast. They struck an impossibly true chord, one that still sometimes liked to put its two cents in every now and then.
"And I appreciate your ability to do this. I might have ignored God for a long time, but it's clearly a blessing to have such a talent."
Sunshine smiled; the only thing she could do that didn't cause tears to well in her eyes. Who are we kidding though, that watery emotion had been trying to elbow its way into the conversation since Chibs mentioned Ewan.
"Happy is damned lucky to have you."
~0o0~
~One Month Later~
~0o0~
"We were incredibly fortunate that the bullet didn't enter his body a few millimeters to the left; otherwise, it would have punctured his Aorta, and he would have bled out in minutes,"
Chibs didn't have an impressive memory, but that line was branded in his mind; the repetition of the words spinning continuously in his head had scrubbed away everything about the doctor other than what he had said. It was supposed to be good news, and it was, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it was good news, but it didn't remove the icepick of fear from Chibs' spine.
A few millimeters.
Juice was alive because of a few millimeters.
Chibs blew out a shaky breath and ran his hands over his face, finding himself wishing that the hospital sold alcohol. Two nurses were helping Juice; the older one was well enough versed in the ways of the local motorcycle enthusiasts to know better than to suggest that Chibs go home to get some rest. The other nurse was fresh out of school and looked no older than Kerianne, and she found it heartwarming that Juice had so many people that loved him.
According to the doctor, a thin, exhausted man with a perpetual squint, Juice's vitals were steady and strong after two nights in the intensive care unit, which was a good sign, apparently.
Chibs thanked the man and shook his hand, and pulled his phone out of his pocket with the other to call Jax.
~0o0~
Chibs hated hospitals. He pitied the sorrowful bastard who liked them, but nothing else set him quite on edge than the sterile, overpowering stench and the ambiance of the monitors. When he was little, he visited his Gran in the hospital and was terrified of the place. At twenty years old, with his hands clasped behind his head and terror gripping every artery in his body, he watched his first love die as the defibrillators failed to bring him back. And the pipe bomb in that minivan was just the icing on the cake, really.
"'member when I got shanked in jail?" Juice croaked out, eyeing Chibs through half-lidded eyes. The nurse raised an eyebrow in surprise but continued peeling down the bandage.
"Yeah, Juicy boy, I remember," Chibs responded gently, arms crossed and peering over the nurse's shoulder. The wound was brutal; MK's will do that to a person, a mess of tiny black stitched and pissed-off-looking tissue. Chibs wasn't squeamish in any sense of the word, but God, if the sight didn't twist his stomach.
"I can't decide if this is worse,"
The snort was involuntary and a little exasperated, and as the Scot glanced down at the man, he wasn't in the least bit shocked to see the self-aggrandizing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth.
"Think yourself clever now, don't ya?" the man chastised.
"Cut me some slack; I almost died," he said, voice monotone and creaking.
"Alright, everything looks good; how's the pain?" the nurse asked, bouncy red ponytail swaying as she cocked her head, smoothing the taped edges of the new bandage down.
"I wouldn't say no to more drugs,"
"I'll take it to Doctor Bilal; how does that sound?" she smiled, a cute, kind motion.
Juice hummed his assent and nodded, eyes slipping close as she walked out the room.
"She's a right cute thing, idn't she?" Chibs commented, more so out of the desperate need to interact with Juice than anything. He had hardly been awake the past two days, and the ashy look his skin was taking on wasn't helping him get out of 'looking like a corpse' territory.
"Believe it or not," Juice said drily, not bothering to open his eyes. "I have some other things on my mind right now than playing grab-ass with a nurse,"
"Yeah? Like what?" Chibs teased, sitting back down on the hard chair that had been his home for forty-eight hours. The guys came and went, staying for a few hours but always ultimately leaving, except for Chibs.
"I don't know, man, I've got this weird pain in my chest," Juice teased back, gravelly and deadpanned, peaking open one eye to check his friend's reaction.
The Scot's face split into an easy, relieved grin that felt like it had given him a few years of his life back that past forty-eight hours had stolen.
Juice floated in and out of consciousness for several minutes. It took a few moments for him to place it, but Chibs finally attributed the odd humming noise coming from the man as him singing in his sleep. The first time he had heard it, Chibs was baffled; Juice never sang, except it would seem, when he was sleeping. Every time he had heard it after it, he found it undeniably endearing and probably more adorable than he would ever share. It was always wordless, tone-deaf humming, usually some variation of The Beatles or ABBA, something that Juice always vehemently denied upon waking.
But now, instead of bothering him about it, Chibs sat with his arms crossed, studying him.
The roundness of his baby face was dulled by the shadow of the hair around the cut of his jaw and upper lip, making him look older and less like the bright-eyed twenty-year-old prospect that Chibs had met years ago. It was easy to forget sometimes that this excitable puppy that laid passed out in front of him was all grown up and had seen just as many horrors as Chibs had. It unsettled him that the young man had seen so much, had done so much, for the club, for his family, for 'the cause.'
And if you were to ask Chibs, in this very moment, if 'the cause' was enough, enough of a reason that Juice should be in this hospital bed with a hole in his heart, he'd say no.
He had fought for 'the cause' since he was no more than a boy, following in his father's footsteps; it was in his blood. But here, in this room, the only blood he could think of was Juice's. Chibs had been the one to run to him when he was shot, Mary, mother of God, he had never run that fast in his life, not even feeling the pain as he dropped to his knees on the concrete.
Reflexively, he curled his fingers into a fist at the memory of the feeling of the blood. It was so hot, so impossibly hot and sticky, and it had bubbled up between his fingers as he laid his hands over the hole, running sure and fast down Juice's body and pooling around his knees.
If Chibs hadn't been a medic with years of experience tucked under his belt, it was more than safe to assume that Juice would be laying somewhere a lot harder and a lot colder than this bed. The thought didn't settle very nicely in Chibs' mind.
He wasn't sure when it had started, whatever this feeling was, the one that he got in his chest whenever Juice looked at him or touched him because he was a tactile man, always standing too close or bumping shoulders, throwing an arm around his neck. It had probably been around longer than Chibs would care to admit, certainly long enough time to grow roots that had tangled into his ribs and bloomed in the spots that had been empty for years. It could have been an innocent thing, once upon a different life, one where he had become a doctor as his Ma had wanted, and Juice was earning six figures as the computer genius he was. But it wasn't. They were soldiers who were damn near trauma bonded and could recite the origin of each other's scars in chronological order. It wasn't cute, and it was never anything that you'd see in a movie. It was tiresome and lonely and always left you aching for more.
Juice woke up with a gasp, brown eyes snapping open, body tensing as he looked wildly around the cold, white room.
"Hey, Laddy," Chibs said, bolting up from his godawful chair. "You're alright, Juice, hey,"
The heart monitor was jumping around enough so that the nurses rushed in, busying themselves around his body.
"Just a nightmare," he placated between shallow, labored breaths. "Just a nightmare," he reassured himself, every line of his body drawn up and taught.
The nurses worried themselves over him, and Chibs stood a few feet away, keeping a sharp eye on them. It had been a decade or two since he had had his training, but he could at the very least make sure they were doing it the best he knew of. As quickly as they came, they left again, leaving the two men alone in the uncomfortably cold room, both wishing they were asleep.
"I had nightmares about getting stabbed for months after it happened," Juice whispered, staring up at the ceiling, morphine glazing over his eyes. "and now I'm going to have more about getting shot,"
"Aye," Chibs sat back down with a sigh that came from the depths of his soul. "But you can't dream if you're dead,"
Juice didn't comment; the tremble in his hands shivered up his arms.
"Go back to sleep, Juice. I'll be here," he said as gently as he could, knowing he could get away with the kindness because Juice was in no mental or physical standing to brush him off.
The stubborn shithead of a man didn't close his eyes until the Scot reached over the bed rail and grabbed his hand, not allowing himself to recoil at how freezing his hand was and curled their fingers together.
Juice was asleep in seconds.
~0o0~
"Man, you need a dog or somethin'," Jax commented, tossing the duffle bag on the floor. "This place is way too fuckin' clean,"
"Or you know, I can come piss on the carpets sometimes, bark at the neighbors, tip over the trash," Tig offered, driving his point home with a growl at Kozik, who had slapped his hand when the man had immediately reached for a picture of what he assumed was Juice's mom.
"What a generous man you are, Tigger," Chibs said without humor, arm looped under Juice's as they stepped into the house, Opie on the other side. Half-Sack scurried up behind them, knocking into everything with the folding wheelchair, and nearly took out Opie with it as he gracelessly wrestled it open.
A week and a half in the hospital, and the doctor finally agreed to discharge Juice, as long as he slept with his oxygen tank on, which he despised.
Try as he might, Juice couldn't hide the wince as he sat in the chair, doing everything in his power to hide his painful breathing. The walk up the steps into the house was harder than he thought it would be; getting in the car was taxing enough. Chibs had driven, something he was more thankful for than he thought he'd ever be, and since he was the driver, he had banished Tig from the vehicle, saying he couldn't have the man within five feet of Juice while he was healing.
Juice sort of wished he'd kick Tig out of the house too.
"How come whenever I get hurt, you all don't fawn over me like this?" Tig complained.
"Because all of your injuries are products of your own idiocy," Piney answered, elbow-deep in the refrigerator. "Juice, all you have in here is protein powder and lettuce," he complained.
"Yeah, well, you don't look like this eating Moonpies and fries," Juice joked, gesturing down at himself, hunched over in a wheelchair and pale with deep purple shadows under his eyes.
And yet, Chibs found himself staring.
~0o0~
"You better not be fuckin' standin' up," Chibs bellowed from across the house, and Juice froze, one arm raised above his head.
"Yeah?" he called back, wishing he didn't sound so goddamn tired. "What are you gonna do about it?" he smirked to himself, grabbing the cup he wanted.
The others had left a bit before, except, of course, for Chibs. Not that Juice cared. In fact, he had felt something fuzzy and warm wiggle in his stomach when the Scot had waved the others away, saying that he could handle all of it.
He was just being a good friend, Juice told himself. There was no way in hell that he'd feel the same way; the man loved women. He was married, for shit's sake. Granted, they had been separated for nearly a decade. This is what friends do. They take care of each other when they're hurt. But do they kiss each other's foreheads when they think the other is asleep? Probably. Maybe. Juice didn't know.
They give each other rides home from the hospital. But do they buckle each other up in said car and linger their hands on the arm sling they had to move out of the way, staring for a second too long in the other's eye in the hospital parking lot surrounded by their other friends, who were helping, but none of them like this? Juice didn't know, he'd never had normal friends, and he surely never had a friend make his blood thrum quite like this in his body.
Just a good friend, Juice replayed in his mind, even when it pulled his face into a frown.
Chibs' boots stomped through the house from where he had been taking the bathroom door off its hinges so Juice could get in with the wheelchair if he needed. He had laughed when Juice said he had a 'shoes off house' and said part of his rehab would be sweeping up the dirt he left behind.
Grumbled Gaelic filled the small kitchen as the man snatched the cup from Juice's hands, ringed finger jabbing at his nose. "You sit your ass down, and ya ask for help, got it?" he threatened.
Juice was on a lot of painkillers, okay? And because of his occasional participation in recreational usage, he had to take more than the average bear for it to affect him the way it should. All that being said, one must forgive him for his altered perception of reality.
That meant that the usual ten-plus layers and filters that he lived behind had been stripped to pretty much nothing. And there was a beautiful man standing in front of him, yelling at him in an accent that he may or may not often dream about, someone he had been harboring a deep and pathetic crush on for no more than seven years, and he was like six inches away, at the most.
"You have really pretty eyes," he blurted out, a burning hot blush roaring to his cheeks the second the words left his mouth.
Chibs stopped mid-sentence, mouth open and finger paused, frozen like was in a photograph.
Juice swayed, waist braced against the counter, his hand in mid-air where Chibs had plucked the cup from his grasp.
"Sit down, Juice." the Scot said, not unkindly, after several long agonizing seconds passed.
He obeyed, hazey brain wondering if this is the part where the other man left or maybe lectured him.
"Did you want water?"
"Yes," he squeaked, trying and failing to look anywhere but Chibs as he walked to the sink, filling the cup.
"Here," he said, handing him the cup, not letting go until he was sure Juice had a good enough grip on it.
"You're not going to make fun of me for saying that?" he asked, sipping from the cup. Through the stained glass view of the drugs, this conversation didn't feel so taboo, so dangerous.
"No," Chibs leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed but not in a threatening way, more pensive than anything.
"Why not?"
Chibs shrugged. "You have pretty eyes too,"
Juice almost inhaled his water, which would have been more horrible than he could handle.
~0o0~
"This is gonna be a wicked scar," Juice grinned, expertly hiding the lilt of fear in his voice, even though Chibs heard it anyway. With any of the other guys, he would have said it would be a chick magnet; if this had been Juice from a few months ago, he would have said it too, but it didn't even cross his mind.
"It'll be even worse if you don't hold still," he chastised, peering at him from overtop his glasses. Juice leaned his head over the back of the chair, grin fading naturally.
Chibs carefully snipped at the stitches, pulling out the black threads one by one. The mark was still angry-looking and red, but it was time for the stitches to come out, and Juice was going to cut them with his dirty kitchen scissors, so Chibs said he'd do it. The dumbass had avoided a STAPH infection for this long, and it wouldn't happen on Chibs' watch.
"There," Chibs sighed, lowering the scissors and squinted at his work. "Does it hurt?" The doctor had made it clear that he was giving Juice a finite amount of painkillers, and Tara had helped him sort out a plan to wean himself off them.
A tan, broad, long-fingered hand danced over the wound, prodding the muscle around it. It was stupid; Chibs had seen his hands before. Had seen damn near every single inch of the man before him, but his traitorous eyes were caught on something as simple as his hands. They weren't a mechanic's tools even though they bore the marks and permanent stains; they were what his Ma had always called 'piano hands.' Long and quick, corded veins webbing out from his forearm down the back of his hand, hematite ring blinking up at him from his middle finger.
"I'm already used to it, honestly," Juice hums, looking up at Chibs. It was a deep, throbbing pain that had settled in his bones and dictated his nightmares like a maestro with his baton.
The two were closer than the action called for, knees mashed together in a tangle, Chibs still leaning towards him as if he was waiting for him to tip out of the chair at any second. Close enough that Juice could see the grinning scars in exquisite detail and be under the full attention of his ridiculously serious brown eyes. He wanted to squirm under the gaze but couldn't bring himself to move.
"Don't get hurt again," he said, but his tone froze Juice's eyes mid-roll. There was a bite to the request that was more of an order, an unrelenting edge of pleading and desperation. It wasn't a friend kindly telling the other that he'd hate to see him hurt again; it was something else entirely that made Juice's battered little heart pound. "Promise me,"
Logically, there had to have been a transition between the moments, but Juice really didn't give a damn enough to pinpoint it. One second, Chibs was staring at him as if he'd keel over the moment he looked away, and the next second, he was kissing him.
Pining for nearly a decade, paired with the recent near-death experience, had a humbling tendency to up risk-taking behaviors and shorten the time needed to process shocking situations, which is a long, fun way to say that Juice rolled with it with impressive speed.
Every moment he had spent wondering what this moment would feel like was met and surpassed, every nerve ending in his body firing off and sparkling, making his fingertips tingle and his toes curl.
Yeah, it was that sort of kiss, the kind that somersaults your organs and has you forgetting your name.
Juice sat on his rickety kitchen chair, palms balanced on Chibs' knees, a pale, ringed hand spanning his jaw and holding him still, and was getting his ever-loving daylights kissed out of him. His head was floating up, up, up, like a neglected balloon, not even caring that it was going to pop; it needed to touch the sun just once.
"I promise," Juice finally whispered, breathing choppy and short, foreheads pressed together, stomach squirming in a hopeful, delicious sort of way. Chibs kept his hand on his face, thumb stroking the ridge of his cheekbone.
It was new and terrifying, and damn if he wasn't excited.