The morning after what Emily liked to call 'the event' was filled with awkward greetings and even more awkward conversation but once the two of them left Emily felt she could breathe better. Luckily for her the rest of her week didn't involve either one of them. She'd spent at least four times a day looking over her shoulder waiting for Jax or Clay to jump out at her and do something thanks to her allowing that incident to happen, but luckily it never did. And she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing - her skin was crawling with anticipation and she thought she was losing her goddamn mind.

Before she knew it, it was Wednesday. She only had two appointments today ; Happy and Opie whose appointment she'd changed to today seeing as it was one of her quieter days. And maybe subconsciously she'd changed it so Opie was a buffer between herself and Happy ; maybe. She was also the only person working today so she didn't want a boring day as they never ended well. She sighs and throws open some of the windows to get rid of the stuffy heat filling the tattoo parlour before walking over and grabbing her paperwork for her clients.

She leans against the counter and reads through the papers - her mind barely registering the words. A deep part of her is thankful when the bell rings above the door alerting her to a presence. Before she can even lift her eyes from the paper she knows who it is, the stuffiness of the room becoming an almost cocoon, Happy. It was as though she could feel him breathing ; her skin crawling with a different type of anticipation and she wasn't sure this was the good kind. Which meant a part of her didn't want to look at him. But she looks up anyway and sends him a small smile, pretending that she was somewhat hospitable, his only reaction being a small nod, barely noticeable if it wasn't for the fact she was staring at him so intently.

Fair enough jackass.

She sighs, shaking her head to clear the cotton feeling settling on her mind before grabbing his paperwork and signalling for her to follow her to the back area where she tattoos. If it wasn't for his footsteps behind her she'd believe he'd upped and left. And for some insane reason a part of her wished he did, if only to remove the energy pulsing over her skin. With a sigh she sits down at her workplace and signals for him to get ready and climb on the table whilst she reads over his paperwork to see she's redoing the snake on his chest. Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth and she prayed to every fucking god she knew that when she finally spoke - it gave nothing away about her true thoughts.

Sounds about right she snorts in her head before turning to look at him to see him lay his Kutte carefully over the waiting chair before stripping off his shirt. She has to stop herself from letting her jaw drop. Emily knew he was older than her, even if he did forgo the age box on the form, but she couldn't deny that for an older scary looking guy he had one hell of a body. She catches herself, reminding herself that this was a client, dragging her eyes to the tattoo she needed and makes notes of the colour inks she needs to repair it.

❛ Lay down when you're ready – ❜ Emily mutters, almost cringing at the smallness of her voice.

Emily had never been scared of anyone, baring her father, but for some reason this guy just did something to her that made her seem like a quivering idiotic teenager. Both in fear and something she really didn't want to name. As she readies the colours for his tattoo she hears the paper towels on the bench crinkle and looks at him from the corner of her eye. He lays down with his hands behind his head just staring at the ceiling above. His whole stance showed he was completely at ease, as though he was aware of what he was doing to her but couldn't give two shits. Oh fucking god help me.

She finishes placing his colours in little pots and looks over her machine to make sure everything is okay even though she'd just reset it up for this tattoo ten minutes ago. Sometimes you couldn't change routine. She places on her gloves and grabs the ointment placing it on his chest, smirking a little as she sees little goose bumps break out in a trail following her hand. With practised hands she grabs her machine readying it with the ink and everything, the small buzzing putting her at ease more than the man.

❛ You ready – ❜ She asks out of courtesy to which she receives a nod, as though it was his main form of communication. ❛ Let me know if you need a break or anything ! ❜

She places the machine to his chest and begins going over his old tattoo's outline, wiping excess blood and ink as she goes. Her concentration is firmly trained on the tattoo but out the corner of her eye she notices some of his other tattoo's, more importantly from her quick mental count fourteen smiley face tattoos which sit just below the tattoo she was working on and another that reads 'Filthy Few'. She snaps her gaze away from the smiley faces, no matter how innocent they look she gets the feeling they are far from it, her mind just screaming at her to not ask the burning question on the end of her tongue. Shaking her head lightly she concentrates back on what she was doing - not wanting to fuck it up and have him do something to her.

Once she's redone his outline she changes machines to her shading/colouring one, as she's getting it ready she feels eyes on her and looks up to see him staring at her, his obsidian black eyes scrutinising her making her feel as though her whole soul is laid bare for his eyes to see. The intensity has her squirming for a moment, eyes daring to meet his despite her reservations.

❛ You okay ? ❜ she questions, again her voice small and almost childlike

❛ Yeah ❜ He replies and she almost jumps for joy for actually getting a word out of his mouth, the corners of his mouth twitch and she realises her reaction must be broadcast all over her face, her face that he is still staring at as though it was intense puzzle he was trying to work out.

❛ Okay I'm colouring now so you should be out of here in about an hour or so – ❜

❛ Want rid of me that quickly ? ❜

Even joking, well she thinks he's joking, his husky voice places her on edge causing the hairs at the nape of her neck to rise and a small shiver to spread down her spine like wildfire. But at the same time she feels a blush creep into her cheeks at the tone of his voice, her body confused in it's reactions to the male beneath her fingers.

❛ I don't really care ❜ She replies steeling her voice, not letting it betray her anymore than it already had. ❛ But you must be busy and I don't want to keep you all day. I don't think the club would like it too much. ❜

She curses as she realises she really worded that fucker wrong and by the smirk lifting the right side of his mouth she knows he picked up on the innuendo that she unintentionally hid in that sentence. She shakes her head and focuses her attention back on his tattoo. She was really starting to hate what he was doing to her. She barely fucking knew him and yet he was so far under his skin simply via his gaze that she was unsure of her own movements.

❛ I get the feeling you don't like the club too much – ❜

❛ Really that obvious ? ❜ she spits sarcastically before groaning.

Normally she had full control over her brain to mouth filter and could catch most of the stuff that people would be really offended with, she didn't let that shit out unless she knew someone really well but with this guy her filter just got up and fucked off on a vacation leaving her hoping and fucking praying he doesn't take her words the wrong way, she didn't want to be the next victim of the Sons of Anarchy.

It was common knowledge that due to paying off the chief of police and half the town they got away with enough shit that would put anyone else on death row but they were the untouchable motorcycle club, nothing and no one was touching them. Emily just, only just, stops herself from snorting out loud at that notion. She wasn't one of the blind residents of the town who let the club get away with it, no, she had somewhat of an idea of the criminal shit they got up too and instead of starting shit she tried to keep away from it. Kind of hard when you work in the only tattoo shop in town and they needed tattoos. But as long as her connection stayed professional and inside the walls of this shop she could deal with that. After all she wasn't her sister - who was once again getting tangled up in the web that was the Sons of Anarchy.

❛ Sorry ❜ she mumbles

❛ It's fine ❜ he nods and she sends him a small smile before wiping the excess ink of his chest and cleans the machine to change colours. All her actions practiced and luckily not affected by what he was doing to her.

❛ So you're Tara's sister – ❜ he asks as she begins working on a new section

❛ Yeah – ❜ Em nods ❛ younger sister. ❜

❛ Why didn't you leave when she did ? ❜ he inquires and she wonders how to word it right, she didn't need to act a bigger bitch then she already had around him. Or like she normally did when people compared her to perfect Tara.

❛ As much as this town pisses me off its home ❜ She shrugs ❛ Plus I'm not my sister ❜

❛ Yeah I get that ❜ he retorts.

From the corner of her eye she can see him smirk before returning his gaze to the ceiling. She wonders what he meant about that but decides not to ask. She has the feeling that he doesn't talk much and when he doesn't want to, well he doesn't. The next thirty minutes pass in silence and she's almost glad to be nearly done with his tattoo. The stuffy heat causing sweat to pool on her lower back beneath her tank top, her skinny jeans feeling almost like a prison for her legs and her feet begin to feel stuffed inside her Harley Davidson ankle boots. Some days she really hated her fashion style - the dark colours never really helping. But she also knew that most knew her for her eccentric rocker style - thus it just became part of who she was.

Just as she's finishing up someone else walks into the room, her mind so focused she didn't hear their arrival, a quick glance over lets her know its Opie.

❛ Hi Ope ❜

❛ Hey Em – ❜ he replies before walking over to the other side of Happy.

❛ Told ya she was good brother ❜ Opie says to Happy who nods

❛ Yeah she is ❜

❛ So don't kill her yeah" Opie jokes

Even though she's excluded from the conversation Emily can't help but feel that what Opie said was more than a joke, the image of his smiley faces taunting her from his inked skin. She sighs and finishes his tattoo and with one more wipe of her hand over the ink she tells him so and begins cleaning up her station ready for Opie, ignoring the two bikers in the room whilst she tries to breath clean air into her lungs. Relishing in the small reprieve from Happy's mercurial gaze.

She excuses herself after covering Happy's chest to keep the tattoo clean and tells Opie she'll be back in a minute and walks out front and begins sorting out the paperwork for Happy's payment. A shadow on the counter tells her he's left the back room, also the way electricity seemed to crackle over her skin. She looks up as he hands her the money and she can see there is more than there should be, she goes to say something but one look from him silences her. Her eyes rolling despite herself.

❛ See you around ❜ he smirks shrugging his Kutte back onto his shoulder

❛ Yeah ❜

She watches as he leaves the shop and can't contain the relieved breath as he does. The stuffy energy seeming to disappear with him. Shaking her head she places the amount for his tattoo in the till and the extra in the tip jar. Where normally, had it been Jax, she would pocket it but something about that money makes her feel weird, the whole vibe of it being off a little bit. Though if she was honest she knew it was more to do with Happy then the money.

Steel yourself Knowles he's just a guy she berates herself in her head before placing on a smile and head's back to Opie to see him laid in the same position as Happy was only ten minutes earlier yet the look on his face is a lot more calmer. This was safety - she knew Opie.

❛ You okay – ❜ Opie asks worried, the expression creasing the corner of his eyes.

❛ Yeah I'm fine ❜ she nods "I'm a big girl. so stop worrying about me yeah ❜

❛ Around him I'm allowed to worry ❜

Em smiles almost grateful for the sort of brother sister relationship she has with Opie, over the years whilst Tara was gone Opie was the one who would come bail Emily out of jail, the one who would sit with her holding her hair back whilst she puked after a hard night drinking that would land most people in the hospital. She admitted that the five years he spent inside were hard on her as she felt like she lost that one person she could talk too. So when he got out and tried to work away from the club she knew it wouldn't work, even if she was silently rooting for him, SAMCRO was just who Opie was and probably would always be.

❛ How are the kids ? ❜ Em asks changing the subject but almost cringing as she realised she placed it on a worse one.

A few weeks ago Opie's wife Donna was killed in some freak drive by shooting. From what Em could recall they still hadn't caught the fucker who did it and she pitied Ope, all he wanted was his family to be safe; having told her enough himself but someone had stolen that dream from him.

❛ They're good ❜ he nods as Em readies the stuff to tattoo him

❛ Good ❜ she smiles ❛ I miss them ❜

❛ You miss being their babysitter ❜ Ope laughs ❛ You're crazier than I thought ❜

❛ Oh shut up they are awesome kids Ope, you did good on that part ❜

❛ It was all Donna" he replies wistfully and Em smiles sympathetically

❛ Yeah – ❜ she nods ❛ But you did good too and are doing good so don't let any fucker or yourself say any different you hear me. ❜

❛ Why will you shove a Jack Daniel's bottle up my ass If I do ? ❜

❛ Oh shut up – ❜ she replies and she can feel another blush colour her cheeks ❛ Let's get you inked. ❜

- x -

A / N – Opie was always my fave character hence why I made him the way he is with Emily. Also sorry for the light changing in formatting. Anyways review and let me know what you think.