October 2008

"Want you to come up to Tacoma with me." Happy casually interjected when Sara paused her usual dinner time chattiness to take a bite. He saw her chewing pause momentarily as his words sank in before she made a disapproving face down at her plate.

"Why?" She asked after swallowing her food. Her fork pushed around the remainder of the food on her plate.

"'cause I want you to. Why's it gotta be a fight?"

"I'm not fighting, I'm just asking." She responded defensively. "I can't really take more time off."

"Sare. You're gonna be moving up in two months. I want you to know where shit is." He responded, setting his fork down to run a hand over his face. "'sides, I think we should get our own place."

"What do you mean? You already have a place." She asked perplexed.

"No I meant like… for us. Like a different place. Or whatever." He answered awkwardly. Her features softened a little and he ruffled a little under her glowing gaze. He took a swallow from his beer before looking expectantly at her. "Well?"

"Happy… I love that you're thinking of me. That's so thoughtful but… I just… I don't think I can take any more time off right now. I mean...Maybe over Thanksgiving weekend?" She offered, trying to compromise. He nodded once and shrugged noncommittally. "I'm trying here, Hap," she sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry I can't just drop everything whenever you want me to."

"Didn't say shit." He defended taking another swig of his beer.

"What's the rush?" She pressed with a huff. "Got some other girl itching to move in, in my place?" She half-teased. He sent her a dark look, clearly not amused.

"It was a joke." She defended.

"Was it? Or were you just bein' a bitch?" She scoffed at his accusation. "Don't try to stir up shit that ain't there, Sara. I'm sick of hearin' your snide shit."

"Ok. Well." She stated petulantly before asking, "You done?" She picked up his plate before he could answer and carried their dishes into the kitchen. She heard his huff but ignored it. If he was gonna call her a bitch then she'd act like one.

"Gonna run out." He stated gruffly from behind her, annoyance bleeding into his words.

"Sure." She stated flatly, not bothering to turn to face him. Here he was talking about wanting to get a new place together and he could hardly stand to be in hers if he wasn't inside her. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts, grateful to be facing the sink where he couldn't see her face.

"Don't wait up." He added, pressing a tense kiss to her cheek. She heard the telltale signs of him pulling on his kutte and boots before hearing the door close. She let out a frustrated groan once she knew he was out of earshot.

"I just don't know how to deal with it. I thought this shit was behind me but seeing Anya in Reno was a real kick to the face, and now I'm obsessing about it. Now he wants me to go up to visit Tacoma and last time there were all these stupid little sweet butts trying to get in my face and remind me they've sucked his dick." Sara stated, picking up a jar from a shelf and inspecting it before putting it back and pushing her cart alongside Gemma's. "And then with Half-Sack's girl," she hesitated to roll her eyes "… and you. It's just like, does it ever end?"

"Listen, don't let that little tart get in your head."

"Which one?" Sara scoffed with a small laugh.

"Any of 'em. You own that brown dick; no matter where he wants to stick it." Gemma waved for emphasis.

"Why can't these assholes just keep it in their pants?"

"Because then they wouldn't feel like outlaws." Gemma stated tossing two boxes of stuffing mix into her cart. "They gotta live outside the lines of conventionalism; that's the whole point. Regardless, they need us more than we need them, honey. We're the glue that keeps this club together. Don't let him forget that."

"Easier said than done." Sara grumbled and Gemma turned to look at her, shifting her weight to one hip, looking all-powerful.

"You done feeling bad for yourself? Christ, I wouldn't have brought you along if I knew it was for a pity-party." The older woman asked with a raised brow. Sara rolled her eyes and nodded. "Listen, he ever bring that shit home? Give you any need for antibiotics? Any baby-mamas knockin' on your door?" Sara sighed and shook her head. "Good. Don't worry about shit unless it's rubbed in your face. You'll drive yourself crazy sittin' around thinking of all the what-ifs. As for Tacoma, you can't expect to move there and not run into someone he's fucked; he was single a lot longer than he was shacked up with you. That's just the reality."

"Yeah, I know." Sara mumbled as Gemma turned back to her cart and Sara followed her to the produce section. "I just thought I had it all figured out with Ryan. We had our system and our rules; I knew what to expect, even if it was shitty. I don't know what to expect with Happy."

"He may fuck around, but he only loves you, you got that?"

"I know; and he's good to me. Better than I probably deserve. I just worry that I won't keep his attention for long if he's on the road this much, or once I'm super busy with school." Sara quietly admitted, picking up a bunch of bananas and adding them to her cart.

"Get your tits done then?" Gemma offered with a playful smirk. "No?" Sara just snorted. "Just give him some shit that those sluts can't give him."

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that when those degraded bitches will do anything he wants them to?" She asked sullenly.

"It ain't about what they will do; it's about what he won't let them do." Gemma advised and Sara nodded. "Make him work for it again; push his limits. Outlaws are hunters, they only like an easy kill if a better cut of meat ain't available, and baby, you're the filet. Act like it." Gemma offered sagely. Sara wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the meat metaphor, but it proved effective, so there was that.

"I can't just… burn his shit on the lawn as a warning?" Sara groaned wishfully.

"I'd pay money to see his face if you did that, but it'd also be the last time I saw you alive, and I'm somewhat fond of you." Gemma smiled, patting the younger woman's shoulder maternally. "Men like to own their pussy, but they forget that pussy owns them too."

Now that she'd had a day or two to mull it over, she realized Gemma was right; she'd made a habit of being at his beck-and-call and now he was starting to expect it; she didn't want to be roadkill, she wanted to be a porterhouse. This time when her phone rang, she let it go to voicemail. When it rang again, she looked around to make sure she was mostly alone in the cubicle spaces.

"Hey, I'm at work." She answered quietly, as if there might be eavesdroppers.

"The fuck you ain't left yet?" He asked gruffly, surprise evident in his voice. He'd texted her earlier that day letting her know when he'd be in; he was sure she'd be on her way by now.

"No, I have some stuff to finish up. Then I was supposed to meet up with Donna tonight." She bluffed, glancing at the clock in the bottom of her computer screen. Donna was busy with the kids tonight, but there's no way Happy would know that.

"You not gonna make time for your man?" He asked, confusion apparent as he covered it with agitation. She smiled to herself. He was making this easy for her.

"Well, sorry, but your plans change at the drop of a hat so it's hard to plan around it. I'll see you at home later tonight." She dismissed nonchalantly, opening solitaire on her computer.

"You get out, you come to the clubhouse. Opie can deal with his bitch." Happy practically growled.

"Yea, I guess we'll see." She offered indifferently.

"'Scuse me, bitch?" He shot back, and she fought a giggle at his attitude. He always said she acted like a child but here he was throwing a fit because he wasn't getting his way.

"I'll swing by the clubhouse on my way home?" She offered with a dramatic sigh. He huffed into the phone.

"Whatever, see ya when I see ya then." He rasped noncommittally and she briefly wondered if she was being too hard on reminded herself that he just liked to control things in his environment, including her. She said goodbye and hung up.

The click of her black heels against the floor announced her arrival, sunglasses in place. She'd removed her work blouse and was left in a lavender silky camisole tucked into her skirt. The black pencil skirt clung to thighs and limited her stride, but it made her ass look phenomenal and she was going for form over function.

Happy whistled approvingly as she strode across the room toward him, sliding her sunglasses up into the mess of waves piled on her head.

"Wanna be my hot secretary?" He joked with a suggestive flick of his tongue as she approached. Her blue eyes were amused but her face looked disinterested.

"You don't have a secretary and you've already fucked me on the garage desk anyway." She dismissed.

"What you against sequels or some shit?" He was in a great mood; very playful, she noted. She wasn't sure if that boded well or unwell for her plan.

"How was the ride?" She asked politely.

"You know." He shrugged, indicating it was uneventful, watching critically as she simply slid onto the stool next to his. No kiss hello, no hug, nothin'. The fuck?

"Good." She agreed coolly. "Rum and Coke?" She asked Half-Sack as he approached. The Prospect nodded and pulled out a glass for her. Happy brushed off her casual greeting and reached for her, trying to pull her closer. She allowed him to slide her stool closer to his, there wasn't much she could do to fight it, and let him throw his arm around her shoulders pulling her to his side. He nuzzled his face into her neck, pressing his lips beneath her ear. Here he was, fishin' for her attention in broad daylight in the clubhouse.

Why had she been jealous again? Part of her felt a little guilty, but it would be worth it, she was sure of that.

"Come on, baby. You happy to see me or nah?" He admonished slyly, hand leaving his beer to slip up her thigh under the hem of her skirt, his fingers cold and wet from the bottle.

"Of course." She said back but kept her eyes on Half-Sack who placed her glass in front of her.

"Gimme a little somethin' then, baby. Show me how much you missed me." He urged nipping at her neck.

"Thanks, sweetheart." She thanked Half-Sack sweetly, and she felt Happy stiffen slightly beside her.

"Anything for you, Happy?" Half-Sack asked nervously, noticing the tension between the two.

"Fuck off." Happy growled and the younger man simply nodded and scurried off. Sara rolled her eyes and sipped her drink.

"Hap—don't be rude." She chastised softly.

"Don't bat your fuckin' eyes at him right in front of me." He growled, loosening his grip around her shoulders and pulling his hand from her thigh to sip his cold beer, mood dampened by her lack of response to his affection.

"I was being polite." She disagreed with a shrug, watching him from her peripheral vision.

"You gonna be polite to me like that?" He asked lewdly, trying again, and burying his face in her neck to look down the front of her top. She couldn't fault him for his persistence, that's for sure. With no shame, he hooked a finger in the front of her camisole and pulled it out to give him a better view and whistling under his breath.

"Depends. You gonna be nice to me?" She asked amused, ignoring his roving eyes, but soaking up the attention.

"I'm always nice to ya." He flirted. She hummed indifferently and he lifted his head.

"What's your fuckin' problem?" He finally asked. Usually that line of questioning set her off so he had tried to work around it, but he couldn't pussyfoot around her attitude anymore.

"What do you mean?" She asked ignorantly.

"What's with the cold shoulder?"

"I'm not being cold."

"Well you sure as shit ain't bein' warm neither." He rebuked in annoyance. She fought a giggle. She could see how men were terrified of him, especially as his dark eyes bore into her sharply, but all she could see was a pouty little boy whose favorite toy was taken away. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but it sent a thrill through her to stoke the fire in him. Gemma had been right; the croweaters and the sweetbutts would never push him like this.

"You wanting something?" She taunted tilting her head, watching him with a small, amused smile.

"This a game to you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. She could practically see the gears spinning as he tried to figure her out. His nostrils were flaring as he glared at her skeptically.

"Depends. You wanna play?" She asked lowly biting her lower lip gently, eyes flicking down his body. His eyes darkened in recognition.

"What? You want me to work for it?" He smirked with a scoff, catching on.

"If you want it, you work for it." She shrugged and nodded.

"What's to say I'd even bother when I can get the same shit for free here?" He challenged. He wasn't about to let some woman boss him around. She scoffed as his words dispelled any guilt she'd felt.

"Oh honey… You may be able to get it for free, but it ain't the same shit." She patronized with an eye roll. She finished her drink before sliding delicately off her stool. "You want the good stuff; I'll be at home. Whether I give it up or not depends on how long you keep me waiting, tough guy." She purred, squeezing past him to exit the bar area. She could feel his stunned eyes on her as she walked away, making sure to pop her hips a little extra with her steps. When she reached the heavy wooden door, she desperately wanted to look back at him to ensure that she still had his attention, but she fought against it and made sure to exit slowly, as if she wasn't in any hurry. Once in the parking lot, she blew out a breath and giggled to herself. She'd forgotten how much fun it was to seduce him and how hot he was when he was trying to seduce her.

He made her wait, out of spite she imagined. It was easily three hours later when she finally heard the roar of his engine pull into the driveway. She was in the kitchen and made sure to look up and back over her shoulder toward the door when he walked in, but she simply looked back at the sink of dishes she was washing smirking toward the water in anticipation. He took his time kicking off his boots and kutte, loudly, she noted in amusement. As if she hadn't heard him and if he was loud enough, she would realize he'd walked in and shower him with her affection. No such luck. Hearing him stomp into the kitchen she bit her cheek to prevent her smile from breaking through.

"You pissed at me still?" He finally asked in exasperation. She looked up at him, brows knitted with faux confusion. She liked him tiptoeing around on eggshells.

"No, not at all." She soothed. "You hungry?" She asked sweetly but avoided looking at him. She could feel him staring at her as he leaned on the counter across from her.

"I want a beer." He stated firmly, eyeing her in expectation. It was a test. He knew it, she knew it.

"There's plenty in the fridge." She shot back brusquely. "There's a plate of food in there too if you want it." She sucked in a sharp breath feeling his warm hands slide onto her hips from behind. She was in a mid-thigh navy-blue cotton robe, tied tightly around her, but it suddenly the fabric felt shorter and thinner under his touch. His hands slid down her hips and over her thighs, his fingertips playing with the hem.

"I don't wanna eat that." He growled into her ear seductively. Her eyes fluttered at his words, but her resolve stayed strong.

"Well, I'm not cooking up anything else for you at this hour." She scoffed, feigning ignorance.

"Damn, woman." He scoffed into her ear. "You're just frigid today, huh?" He criticized sharply and she stomped her bare heel onto his instep. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but enough for a warning.

"Watch it." She stated sharply, placing the last clean dish on the rack and drying her hands.

"You watch it, bitch." He snarled, using a foot to slide hers further apart and pressing his groin into her ass. "I ain't gonna beg you for the pussy that's mine to take." He threatened, allowing her room to turn around and face him. They both knew his threat was empty; he was a lot of terrible things, but he wasn't a rapist. It was his turn to take a sharp breath, eyes roving over her dark, sultry make-up. The fuck she all done up like that for?

"Then looks like you aren't getting any." She stated with an unconvinced shrug and moved to push past him. He growled in annoyance and blocked her exit by trapping her with his hands on either side of her pressed into the countertop.

"You sayin' you want me to beg, or that it ain't mine?" He challenged, face menacing. She huffed and rolled her eyes, refusing to answer him knowing that her lack of response would bother him more than any answer. "The fuck you all dolled up for?" He inquired skeptically, "That for me?"

"You would know if you hadn't taken so long to get home." She stated condescendingly.

"Had shit to do."

"Well, I hope you showed her a good time, at least." She spat, letting the venom she'd been holding back spill out.

"You wanna try that again, woman?" He rasped darkly straightening some; eyes serious. It was one thing to banter as foreplay; it was another entirely to low-blow back-talk out of spite.

"Do you wanna try it again?" She shot back bossily, crossing her arms under her breasts, pushing them up. He didn't miss the movement, eyes skipping downward momentarily, brows furrowed.

"Christ, whatdya want from me?" He scoffed, but she could see the confusion and hesitation in his eyes. Her tone signaled she was teasing him, but she was never this difficult unless she was pissed, and as far as he knew, he hadn't done anything wrong. Sure, she was overdramatic, but she was usually pretty predictable. He didn't like unpredictable.

"I don't know; since you already probably got it for free, I guess I don't want anything." She presented with a shrug, hinting to the root of the problem. He groaned loudly and hung his head back.

"Fuck, I was just talkin' shit." He argued looking back at her. She refused to meet his eyes and pursed her lips shrugging in disinterest. "You know I was just playin'."

"You can do whatever you want." She responded, sounding bored. A sly smile spread across his lips.

"My girl a little jealous?" He teased, trying to soften her up a bit. She snorted.

"Please. Those skanks are nothing to be jealous of." She scoffed haughtily, trying to shove his arm out of her way so she could stomp off. It hardly moved. He chuckled lowly at her feeble attempt.

"That why you're dressed up for me?" He asked in amusement, sure that she wasn't actually mad—maybe a bit pissed or miffed, but not actually mad. Sparing a glance down her short little cotton robe he caught a peek of his favorite black bra. There wasn't much to it: it was sheer lace, offered very little practical support or function, and was sexy as fuck. She clutched her robe closed around her neck.

"Go in the bedroom." She directed abruptly, before she lost her nerve, and he raised an eyebrow at her command.

"'Scuse me?"

"You heard me. You want this, don't talk back." She chastised and shoved him back. He let her push him away from the countertop and scoffed, shaking his head with mixed emotions. Mostly amusement, a bit of annoyance at her bossy tone.

"I dunno who you think you're talki—" His words were cut short from her slap across his cheek. It wasn't hard, but it wasn't soft either, and the sound hung in the silence that followed. He stared at her slack-jawed and she held her breath, hoping he was more intrigued than offended. She relaxed seeing him rub his cheek and his eyes darken with piqued interest. It had been a calculated risk, but it got his attention.

"Go." She reiterated firmly, pushing against his abs towards the bedroom. "You don't want this? You can go back to the clubhouse and get that used-up, dirty pussy. You want what's yours, then go in the bedroom and wait for me; I'll bring it to you whenever I feel like it." He stared at her for a second before letting curiosity get the best of him and backing up towards the bedroom, eyes blazing. He opened his mouth to make a snide comment, but her eyes darkened.

"You wanna get slapped again?" She warned. He smirked cheekily back at her.

"Maybe." He coyly responded but didn't say anything else before turning and making his way down the hall. "Better not make me wait too long," he threw over his shoulder.

"You'll wait as long as I want you to." She shouted back, giggling quietly to herself. It was a hazard to try to dominate him, but she figured it was the one thing he'd never let the stupid sweetbutts do. She knew his curiosity was the only reason he'd let her little slap slide by, since it was so out of character. She needed to take her aggression and resentment out on someone. Might as well be him; he could take it.

She grabbed herself a glass and reached up high for the bottle of his favorite whiskey with a nervous hand. She poured herself a few fingers of the liquid and took a big gulp, pulling a face at the taste. She was pretty sure it was the expensive shit, because he didn't drink it often, but whiskey all tasted awful to her. She gave herself a little pep talk before slamming back the rest of it, coughing a little as it burned down her throat into her stomach. Jesus, how did he drink this shit?

She quietly slipped into the thigh-high boots she'd stashed between the wall and the couch and slipped off her robe. Glancing at the clock, she made sure at least five minutes had passed. She didn't want to push him too far, but she also didn't want to let him off easy and making him wait would only put him further on edge. He was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted.

Jump—how high?

Get a beer—sure thing.

Come to the clubhouse—be right there.

.

.

.

Not tonight. She steeled her nerves with a deep breath and sauntered toward the bedroom with a smirk. Showtime.

A/N: Second half is already written and ready to go. Might post it this week as well depending on the responses I get for this one. Then we hop back into plot at full speed. Review and let me know if you're 1) ready for the steamy second half of this, and 2) ready for some crazy plot! (be careful what you wish forrrr)