Disclaimer: I do not own the SOA-characters or the story. I only own my OC.

Happy grumbled lowly when he'd turn the key just halfway to unlock the door that he then pushed open to enter the hallway slowly. Putting his duffle-bag on the floor before slipping out of his boots, he wrinkled his nose in disgust when he smelled the aftermath of the long run rising up from his feet.

He could take care of that later though.

"How many times do I've to tell you to lock the fucking door?" He asked loudly, taking a look at the small clock on the little dresser beside the door. He shook his head slightly; it was too late for the door to be unlocked, even in a good neighborhood like this. Every fucker that made his way into the house would've gone completely unnoticed. The house was big enough for two, while Alex used to be upstairs around this time of the day, sitting at her desk, headphones on her head, not hearing shit. He'd suggested selling it and buy a smaller one, since her brother wasn't coming back after he transferred down to Charming to be near his kids and to handle that bitch he unfortunately called his baby-mama. But all she said in response was a simple "And where would you sleep then?", taking the matter off the table in seconds.

It was sort of a second home for him. He even had his own room. Actually it was her brother's old room she'd made to a spare-room for whatever guest was showing up. But he was the one using it the most, and preferred to give up his own apartment to whatever visitor came over from other charters, instead of letting her be with some more or less strange brother. And there was nothing wrong with that, since she'd even decorated it his kinda way, so that it would feel more like a home to him. Not that he'd a big thing for decoration, but he didn't mind it either as long as it wasn't sickening his stomach because of too many knick-knacks.

"It's locked…well, it was, until you unlocked it." She replied dryly in her usual sassiness, calling out obviously from the living room. So he made his way over, leaning in the doorway and watching her struggle with whatever project she came up with today.

"No, it wasn't." He said, kinda exhausted, knowing she probably didn't give a shit anyway. He tried to teach her to lock the door for almost thirteen years now and yet, she didn't lock the fucking door. She was a hopeless case, he already knew about that. It was just too hard to accept it.

Apparently she got a new cupboard and was now fighting getting it together. It was one of those new and fancy ones, all white and fashionable and contemporary; the complete opposite to the one her brother had gotten them more than fifteen years ago. Happy was fine with that though, as long as it wasn't pink or covered in flowers, he wasn't about to complain. Not that he had much of a say in this kind of things. In the end, it wasn't his house and if Alex felt like covering it in flowers, she would've covered it in fucking flowers. Fortunately, she didn't have a big things for flowers…or pink for that matter.

"Dinner is in the kitchen." She said, before grumbling to herself some colorful curses. He was amused.

She did have some talent and skills when it came down to the work of a handyman, even fixed a lot of shit around the house all on her own. She didn't have a problem with taking a wrench and fix up a water-pipe, as much as she was very aware of how to fix some electricity-stuff too. She was even able to put up drywall all alone. Things like that seemed to be normal when there were too many times with too little money to pay someone else to do it.

But a cupboard, that obviously was giving her a hard time and some big-ass struggle. It was cute though…sort of. And he had to hold back a chuckle when she began to cuss like a sailor all over again.

He went into the living-room and came to a halt behind her before he bent down, placing a kiss to the back of her head while reaching around her, trying to take the tool out of her angry hands.

He hadn't planned to get home from a long run and jump right into his barely existent assembler-mode, but what kind of an ass would he have been, when he just watched her breaking those small fingers with a screwdriver? Especially after she made dinner for him, and probably would take care of his laundry too…like she always did.

"I can do that." She said protesting and snappish, looking at him with irritation jumping out of those deep blue eyes right into his face. She'd done that since he'd known her.

"I know" So he just went with it, knowing it was pointless to argue her. She was too stubborn for that, he'd learned that the hard way throughout the years.

"Wanna eat with you, not watching you struggle in here while I do." He continued, causing her to pout, a little pissed before she wrinkled her nose. "You stink." She then retorted bluntly.

"Was on the road for five hours, girl…Gonna take a shower after dinner."

"What about you take a shower now, while I finish this and then we eat?" She offered, before he looked at the screwdriver, still held in both of their hands, causing him to let out an exhausted sigh.

"I'm not messing with your emancipation-bullshit…Nothing wrong with letting me help you."

"Nothing wrong with taking a shower either…speaking of emancipation — what kind of skank is sucking you off, when your feet stink like that?" She replied, although she gave him space to help her, by standing up, letting out a deep breath while he crouched down in front of her masterpiece.

"Just keep the boots on." He replied simply, apparently causing her mouth to twist into a distasteful grimace immediately.

"That's so gross, Hap."

"You were raised by a bunch of bikers and Old Ladies, mainly by Tig…I guess you've seen a lot worse than that…or smelled."

There was a long pause, while she tried once more to stare him down — unsuccessfully. Like always.

"Got a point." She finally replied and he looked up at her, chuckling to himself for a second before she bent down, placing a kiss to his bald head.

"Good you came home." She then said before she made her way out of the living room, letting him know her worry hadn't eased yet. She still was sour when it came down to runs, after her brother got taken by some assholes, being stuck in a dirty basement for days until SAMCRO was able to finally get him out again. Since then she'd forced him to text her at least once a day. Better was twice.

He listened to her shuffling around in the hallway, pretty sure she was already busy with his duffle and laundry. She'd started to do that after her brother moved down south, withdrawing a lot of things from her, like caring for his crazy ass every goddamn day. So she just changed the person, now caring for his well-being as much as she could. He'd already thanked Tig for moving down to Cali, because now he got home-cooked meals at least twice a week, left-overs for two more. He never had to worry about clean boxer-shorts and shirts and to top it all, his fridge's emptiness was non-existent anymore. She did his grocery shopping in all her femininity. There were apples and tomatoes, fresh milk, eggs and flummeries. He had bread and everything he needed to make himself a good sandwich. All that stuff that made his mother overly Happy. Causing her to look at him as if he'd grown a second head when she'd opened his fridge on a visit years ago.

He never had to worry about beer or whisky, and in case he had visitors, she took care of that too. There always was enough candy, chocolate and chips to be happy for the whole week, "Jesus, Hap…I'm not putting rubbers in your bag because they make you look so damn cool…fucking use them!" And of course, she worried about this kinda shit too.

"I do!" He replied loudly.

She didn't say anything, but he suddenly felt her presence behind him, so he turned to look at her while she leaned in the threshold, returning his gaze with a doubting one, sporting a cocked brow while holding up the untouched pack of unused condoms.

"Too busy for pussy." He stated simply, not caring much about the topic anymore. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he got another mother with her or a non-official, unmarried wife he wasn't fucking — not that he hadn't already thought about changing that.

Gross, no! He loved his mom, but the day he had the same thoughts about his mother as he had about Alex, was gonna be the day he sure would put a bullet in his head.

"Did you sleep?" She then asked, his words obviously not convincing.

"Yeah."

"Then you wasn't too busy." She stated, playing with the package in her hand in an absent sort of way.

Rolling his eyes he turned to go on with her cupboard, there still was a lot to do and he was fucking hungry.

"Guess I'm too old for that then." He answered before concentrating on the first door hinge.

"My brother's five years older than you. He can work for sixteen hours, drive for five more and the clubhouse could be under enemies fire and yet, he wouldn't miss out on Vegas-pussy. He probably would just push her from the bed and fuck her on the floor to be safe from any raining bullets."

Turning around he rested his upper arm on his knee, the screwdriver in his hand hanging down lazily while he looked at her dry expression. She wasn't joking and he knew why, so he snorted once before a chuckle began to escape his throat.

"Yeah…he's one sick bastard." He finally said.

"Well, in my book that's the reason why you two get along so well."

There was a smirk coming to his lips, knowing she was right, but then he moved to face the cupboard again, shaking his head slightly.

"Get a shower, Hap…you can finish this tomorrow."

The shower was good and did the trick. A perceived eternity of hot water patting down on his tired body was relaxing his overexerted and hurting muscles thoroughly. He was all about long runs, the longer the better. He couldn't get enough after hitting the road. But the aftermath wasn't quite as funny, especially after sleeping bad for days and dealing with some hard shit before. He always was a light sleeper on runs; too many incidences forced him to be. So he was looking forward to a night full of good, deep and never-ending sleep in an extreme comfortable bed without being disturbed from an always open eye.

After putting on fresh boxers and black sweats he always had at her place, he brushed his teeth thoroughly and spent some quality time with his razor, before he made his way into the joining bedroom. He found Alex stuffing the condoms into the big rag on the left side of the room before putting some tattoo-magazines onto the dresser behind the bed on the right.

"Some articles about new techniques that'll come up and stuff…thought you might wanna read." She explained, while fanning them out on the top neatly.

It was good to have someone doing the same for a living as he used to do years ago. With that he was always up to date, although he wasn't really in the scene anymore. Instead of a tattoo parlor he was working in a garage and he wasn't one to travel around the country, so that he could visit conventions and seminars; he just didn't find the time anymore and kept it low with just inking brothers and old ladies. But she did all of that and always came back with a lot of new or interesting things, telling him about it all excited and jumpy. She was better than him, that wasn't a secret, but he was fine with that. He just was happy that he was able to give her that opportunity all those years ago. Everyone had their strengths and his definitely was more on the mechanic side, while she didn't even know how to do a damn oil-change but was able to bring pure art to your skin.

Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a kiss to her cheek from behind; "Thank you." And Alex turned in is arms, looking at him a little dumbfounded; "For what?"

"Don't know…for everything, I guess."

They fell silent for a while and his head forward until it found her shoulder to rest on. He enjoyed the closeness and the warmth radiating off of her against the bare skin of his shivering chest. Even in summer Tacoma wasn't quite a sauna at night.

"Feels good." He said lowly, enjoying the easing tension in his muscles while he inhaled her scent deeply. It hadn't changed since she was seventeen, after she'd gotten that perfume from Samy for her birthday. It was unique and feminine, and he still didn't know what exactly it was, but it just fitted her perfectly.

"You gonna tell me how you got that new patch?" And the tension was back. He didn't want to talk about that. He'd done what was necessary and now it was done. There was nothing to talk about again, that fucker wasn't worth the trouble. But she wouldn't let go of that. He knew her too well. And she knew well about the meaning behind the existing patches. Some of them were easy to figure out, some of them known by everyone and some meant to be mysterious, but she'd figured it out finally; all of them. And for the few she didn't, she just went to Tig.

Her brother didn't tell her shit, but he didn't lie to her either. He never did. So in case he didn't want her to know anything, he just kept quiet — what in other words was nothing but telling her the truth the second she asked the right question. She'd learned about that quickly and learned to use it just as fast.

It took her some time until she figured out what this specific patch meant after seeing it on Snipers cut. But finally, after almost five months she figured out the right question to ask: Did he kill a member by order of the club?

It was pointless to keep shit from her. She was too smart to be fooled.

"I'm not stupid enough to think that increasing body-count on your abs

is showing off the numbers of bitches you've fucked."

She wasn't even twenty-one when she'd stated that simply and unimpressed, and he looked at her dumbfounded, his eyes wide, his brain fuzzy. But then he remembered who it was, telling him that. A girl that was born in the 6th pit of hell, raised in the 3rd, until she found her final home which still was far away from heaven. She was a Trager and there was nothing normal about them. In fact, they were freakishly crazy. It probably was that craziness that was catching his attention.

"Spike" He finally said lowly, feeling her taking a deep breath, making him worry. He remembered she used to like that guy. Had fun with him whenever he visited Washington. Playing some cards, having some shots of tequila, talking with him the whole fucking night. He already thought there was more to their relationship, but there wasn't, they were just friends.

"You okay?" Her voice came to life quietly, before he was even able to ask the same. Her hand reached back to caress the back of his head gently and he knew she was smart enough to spare them more questions. He appreciated it.

"Don't know." He replied honestly, breathing the words out against her neck, as he pulled her closer. He was good with doing what had to be done, no matter what it was. He rarely felt bad about it, but executing a brother, that was something else.

"You gonna be." She whispered as her head moved, before he closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her lips at his temple, placing a small kiss to the fresh shaved skin.

She was licking his wounds like a lioness after her lion came back from a battle...and kissing her seemed to be a pretty good idea right in this moment. Though, he knew that idea wasn't the best he ever got. But it was one he'd gotten so many times without complying yet, it became harder to resist every goddamn time.

Happy had managed to not get in situation like that with her for such a long time. Avoiding the moment that threatened to take away all the control he was able to keep around her. Control that was necessary to prevent something important from destruction.

Usually he wasn't much of a thinker when it came to women. If he wanted one, he just got her or at least tried, without thinking a lot about the consequences. That had once brought him a black eye from an angry husband, but other than that, it usually wasn't that big at all. But with her, there was too much to be ruined with just one wrong move. It wasn't her brother though. That guy would've been overly happy and literally waited for it to happen. Tig probably was already planning the fucking wedding. But Happy didn't want that. He didn't want to lose such a good friend that meant so much to him, because his ability to maintain a relationship got somewhat lost without trace. It probably stuck somewhere in the traffic on an educational trip between Hustler and Penthouse.

Friendships between women and men were difficult; he'd heard about that rumor, but found himself struggling when it came to believe it. His mind changed though, and his credits to those words grew when he'd realized the little girl who had once loved him for just giving her pen and paper, slowly grew into a decent woman that became more and more dominated from an increasing wisdom. It wasn't just once he'd caught himself, going to her for advice, talking to her like to an actual woman. She'd helped him a lot, she still did, mainly when it came down to the private side of business.

There were other thing, challenging his self-control. Things like comprehension and similarities, which was the result of common features which weren't to underestimate. And of course, with her mind and personality growing, her transformation wasn't meant to be unnoticed. The once small and skinny girl, with that dark hair that was cut short, had grown into an average sized beauty, with curves were they had to be and a thick mane that was long enough to reach the middle of her back, dyed in a warm blonde, so that her reflection wouldn't remind her of her mother anymore. Big and deep blue eyes, smooth lips, while she fortunately didn't get that big-ass schnozzle her brother used to call his nose. Though Happy wasn't sure if it just wasn't broken as many times as Tigs.

There was ink to find all over her body. She'd started that when she turned sixteen, to cover up the scars she'd gotten throughout her youth. An idea that turned into sort of an addiction, now giving her a full-sleeve on both arms, a stunning backpiece after she'd finally found someone on the east-coast who was able to cover the scar-tissue neatly. There were colorful pictures sporadically on her thighs and lower legs, the initials of her brother on her wrist, along the date he'd managed to get her out of that hell they'd called home for too long. It was like a second birth to her, she'd told him.

He always had a thing for women that were into ink the way he was, but knowing the meaning behind every goddamn tattoo was something different. Like that ridiculous Winnie The Pooh on her forearm. There were too many people asking her why she'd gotten that stupid thing and she rarely told them, that beside her brother, it was the only thing which was giving her a reason to laugh when she was a kid. The world she fled into, whenever hell broke loose at home. That damn movie even got Tig a stupid nickname, he yet insisted to keep, even around the club, just because it came from her.

All those things made it hard to resist his desires, especially when they came into situations like that. And her obvious attraction to him didn't make it easier.

"Hey." Though her small voice snapped him back to reality again, his name coming out of her barely above a whisper before he realized his lips were betraying his mind, placing barely sensible kisses to her neck.

He was aware that he should've pulled away from her, thinking about dinner or whatever was distracting enough. But instead of that, he just drew her closer until her back was literally pressed against his chest.

This was stupid. This was a stupid idea. She'd given him enough reasons to be certain of that and yet, it felt too good to pull away. He didn't want to let go of her.

"Stay the night with me." He said lowly, closing his eyes by the missing answer, placing another kiss to her jaw. "Just want you next to me."…

Sixteen years earlier…

It was a rainy day. One of those days Tacoma was known for. Dark clouds hanging deep, giving the city a dark aura while dampening the streets without mercy. There wasn't much to do on a day-off, without a lot of friends outside the club which was hanging low after a big party the night before.

Happy had cleaned the clubhouse, restocked all the supplies that were needed for the next event or days and finally he found himself at one of the tables, sketchbook and pencil in hand, trying to get his next idea done. It was meant to hit his skin the day he got his full-patch. A dream that was far away with more than at least ten months of prospecting. But he was sure he would succeed. He wasn't known for giving up on shit.

There was a sniffing nose getting his attention, causing him to look up from his artwork, noticing a little girl in front of him. Considering her size and appearance, she couldn't be much older than nine, maybe ten. Her dark-brown hair were frizzy and barely reached her chin. She was quiet though, looking down at his sketchbook before her eyes moved up to meet his own sort of coyly.

"Hi!" He said at the lack of anything better to say, getting a studying look in response, along some uncertain curling lips, but nothing else.

Her eyes went back to his drawing, her small hands reaching for it before caressing the outlines a little too gently. As if she knew, too much pressure was able to damage it.

She took her time to examine it neatly, eventually looking over at him again. And then she turned around and left. Running up the stairs she disappeared and left him behind with a confused look on his face.

"She's not talking to strangers." The queen's voice snapped him out of it though, making him look over at her with a nod in understanding.

"Who is she?" He asked, finally brave enough to do something bold like that after he'd spent almost six weeks with being scared of Lee kicking him out for just looking at her.

A warm smile hit her face, before she answered in a low voice; "Alex."

It was one of those 'ooh'-moments, as if his brain was a light that got switched on. He'd heard about the girl, mainly from Tig himself, that guy who'd moved heaven and hell to get her out of the parents household almost six months previous. Knowing a bit about Tig's youth, Happy easily understood his reasons for that move.

Though Happy was a bit confused when Tig called her Alex, knowing he was known under that name too. But he'd explained quickly, their parents weren't just violent and aggressive fuckers, but also didn't give any fucks about their kids and didn't even bothered to get another name for her out of their fucked up junkie-brains, since she was nothing but an accident.

"Gonna give her a full name for her birthday." Tig had explained, a smile spread across his face. "Thought about Alexis…Like that she can still be Alex, so she won't be confused or mess it up…Alexandra would work too, but it's too similar to mine, I want her to have something to difference herself, something feminine. She tried for too long to be a damn boy…I mean, nothing wrong with that, but she isn't really thinking she's a boy, she was just trying to protect herself."

Happy hadn't understood what Tig meant with the whole boy-thing, he still didn't, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask. And he wasn't able to think about that further, as she suddenly jumped down the stairs again, coming to a halt in front of the table, a pile of loose papers in hand as well as a pencil-case. He smiled, though he looked over at Samy for permission, but finally pulled back one of the chairs, offering her a seat next to him.

Taking it hesitantly she eventually sat down, starting to sort the loose papers, before finding what she obviously was looking for. She stared at it for a second, or maybe two, but then leaned forward and began to continue her own drawing, biting her lower lip in concentration.

. . . . . . .

After spending some time in silence she suddenly stopped, looking at his hand for a while before finally reaching over. Happy was confused at first, but then felt the itchy feeling of twitching away, as the tip of her index-finger grazed the little round scar he'd gotten between thumb and forefinger. Because his father thought it was a good way to make a real man out of him by putting out a smoke on his skin.

She looked up at him sort of sad, a little angry too and suddenly she reached for her sleeve, pulling it up slowly. And he frowned when she pointed to a matching scar beneath the crook of her arm. There was a sick feeling hitting his throat, thinking about himself getting that shit when he was fifteen. He at least was old enough to get over the pain somehow, while she was barely twelve when Tig had made it to get her out of there and that scar seemed to be pretty old. So how old had she been when this happened to her?

While he thought about that, a smile came to her face before she reached into her case, pulling out a felt-pen. She opened it slowly and grasped for his hand hesitantly but finally drew a smiley-face across the cicatrized skin. She then continued with her own, giving him a soft smile which he returned ever so slightly, before she went back to her surprisingly skilled drawing.

. . . . . . .

"She's been doing that since she moved in with me…tries to cover it up with something that's telling her it's over and won't happen again." Tig told him later, after confirming his assumption how she'd gotten the scar, giving the little smiley-face a whole new meaning, before calling her down to get home.

After jumping down the stairs she stopped in front of them, handing Happy a paper sort of hesitantly. He took it, getting a shy smile from her, just before she took off in Samy's direction to get her stuff.

Unfolding the paper he couldn't help a smile coming to his lips. There was a sketch of his bike, a surprisingly detailed and good sketch of his bike, especially for a twelve year old girl.

"Guess you got a new friend, prospect." Tig commented, slapping him on the back and putting two fingers into his mouth to whistle for the German Shepard puppy, who came running immediately, followed by jumping, dark-haired squirrel that was struggling to hold the leash, before Happy heard her voice for the first time, calling out loudly;

"Missy!"