Disclaimer-The Sons of Anarchy do not belong to me, mores the pity. I do have complete ownership of my OCs, No Other Man Alive, and a new Harley catalogue which I shall use to scope a new sissy bar.
Happy woke alone. Again. He scrubbed a hand over his face roughly before rolling to sit up. A quick check of the crappy alarm clock told him that it was just shy of 11:00. It unnerved him how easily Ace continued to give him the slip. He guessed that he would have to spell out that he expected her in his bed anytime he woke up.
He glanced longingly at the ashtray beside the bed, but passed it over and went for his clothes. He pulled on his jeans and shirt from the day before, skipping over the used boxers. He'd get some fresh clothes off his bike later, when he had time to take a shower. For now, he needed to figure out where the fuck his old lady had disappeared to.
Happy stuck a cigarette in his mouth and wandered down the hall without bothering to lace his boots. Half a dozen patched brothers were sitting at the bar in varying degrees of hung over. The ones with empty plates looked considerably healthier than the newcomers. He scanned the room, but it was clear she wasn't tucked up somewhere drawing like she had been yesterday morning. One of Jury's boys, Slick, caught side of Happy lurking and nodded his head toward the kitchen behind the bar.
"Your old lady can cook." He informed Happy.
Less than pleased to have to learn that little tidbit second hand, Happy just grunted in reply. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the smoke. Already put out by waking up alone, and then finding his old lady feeding other dudes, the way his brothers were tracking her through the kitchen was like sand in his asscrack. Irritating as hell. His mood eroded further when he rounded the corner and could see the Prospect that was assisting her practically drooling on Ace's tits, which of course, looked spectacular. He stalked past the bar to the kitchen entryway. He almost couldn't blame the Prospect, because with the sexy bedhead and that eye shit just barely smudged; Ace looked like she was ready to be tumbled back into somebody's bed. Her whole face lit up when she saw him looming in the door, which was a delightful contrast to all the color draining from the Prospect's face.
"My old lady is done cooking. And keep your goddamn eyes to yourself before I feed them to you." Happy deliberately blew smoke in his face and didn't move an inch to let him through, the little fucking pissant. Behind him, Happy could hear laughter from the bar as they undoubtedly watched shit unfold. "Bunch of gossiping bitches back there." He informed Ace as she came to him, a plate loaded with bacon, sausage, and eggs in her hand.
"Fixed you a plate, big man." She smirked up at him. With his free hand, Happy wrapped all that mussed up red head around his wrist and pulled her head back. Glad that the assembled men and hopefully that fucking Prospect were watching, he shoved his tongue into her mouth. He'd expected her to passively accept the mauling, but she surprised him by moaning into his mouth eagerly.
"Come on, you're done cooking for these other fuckers. Let the Prospect deal with them." He said, taking the plate from her and pulling her along behind him. He let go of her long enough to flip off the guys at the bar as he bypassed them for one of the tables.
"I really don't fucking like having to go searching for you every single morning." Happy grunted at her between forkfuls of breakfast. "It makes me…edgy when you're not in my bed where you're supposed to be."
Ace felt a little frisson of panic shoot up her spine. She couldn't tell if Happy was pissed at her, or just focused on the food.
"I'm sorry?" She muttered. "I just figured I would do something useful, since I was awake. I mean, what's the point of me being here if I don't at least help out?" When Happy finally looked up at her, eyebrows raised, Ace stopped talking.
"The point of you being here is that I want you to be here. In my bed in the morning. Ready to fuck if I want to. That's the point." He stared at her, completely flabbergasted that she'd managed to miss the point when he'd told her that her entire life began and ended with him.
"Ok." Ace's voice was small, but her eyes were huge as she absorbed this new piece of intel.
"Ok." He agreed, and turned his attention back to decimating his breakfast, which really was good.
"Go drop this in the kitchen and come right back." He handed her the plate and lit another smoke.
Slick plopped down into the seat Ace vacated and lit his own cigarette.
"She's smoking hot, she can cook, and if you've kept going back for more, she's got to be a firecracker between the sheets." He ticked the salient points off on his fingers. "Are you sure you're keeping her? Because if you're not, let me be the first in line to take her on."
"Jesus Christ, don't you Nevada fuckers ever let up?" Happy groaned.
"Nope." Was the predictably smooth reply from Slick.
"Well spread the fucking word. I will kill to keep her untouched. She's mine." He warned with deadly seriousness.
"Hey no problem, man." Slick put both hands in the air in surrender. "You really can't blame me for trying. You're one lucky dude."
Happy was done with all the talking. He continued to watch Ace as she dropped the plate off in the kitchen and turn on her heel. Seeing all the stares she was getting, he returned to his internal debate. Front or back? Where to start? He'd already made up his mind to send a clear message that she was way off limits. When she approached, Happy stood up and handed her his keys.
"Do me a favor and go grab my bag, ok baby?" He sent her off toward the door and took off in search of some serious disinfectant. He turned around just in time to see the bimbo from last night say something to Ace when they met at the door. Ace didn't miss a step, just flipped her the bird without even looking her way. Happy really didn't like whatever this bitch thought she was up to.
"Hey." He caught her attention as she got herself ready to leave. He moved to stand in front of her, pleased to see that the dumb gash couldn't tell that he was considering snapping her neck. "You can't leave yet. You really should stick around to see what's happening." He didn't stick around to hear a response, just went back about his business.
He dragged a chair into the best light, then a barstool behind it, spinning it down to what he estimated to be the right height. Next to that went a table, which he set the Prospect to wiping down. When Ace returned, he pulled out his tat rig, a new needle, and the various other implements of his trade. She took in the setup, her face hopeful, but careful not to jump to conclusions.
"Go put your hair up." He decided to start with putting his own name in giant fucking letters across her shoulders. "And bring me your book and pencils, I want to mess with the design a little."
Ace's face broke into a huge, excited grin and she rocked forward onto her toes, like she was on the verge of busting into a very girly squeal fit. She reined it in and just spun to follow his directions, though.
"Inking her already, man?" Tig nailed the scene the second he entered the room. His disapproval was clear in his voice. Happy just quirked a questioning brow at Tig and kept setting up the gear to his liking. "I mean, I get why you took her with you. I even get why you married the bitch. But both of those things can be fixed. Once you mark her, man, you can't take that shit back. You don't even know if you can trust her."
"I trust her like I trust my own mother." Was the only explanation he felt obligated to offer. Happy's love and trust in his mother was well known in the MC community.
"Alright, man. I don't get how you can trust any bitch, but I got your back." Tig pulled another chair over, physically showing his solidarity. "I'm not holding her fucking hand, though."
No Other Man Alive
Ace and Happy spent an easy hour, debating line styles as Hap changed the original graffiti to something that carried a little more weight. The Anarchist's A replaced the original, a screaming beacon to anyone who had ever seen a Son's cut. He was satisfied with the finished drawing and couldn't wait to dirty up her skin a little more. All done in black and grey, it was going to look spectacular from behind. He measured the stretch of her upper back with his gaze, noting where her quarter sleeves would blend into his design. He wished that no other man had ever put a needle to her skin, but knew there was no changing the past.
"Alright, baby, let's get moving. Do you need me to make a stencil or do you trust me?" Happy teased her, running a finger down her exposed spine.
"You know I trust you." Ace rolled her eyes and straddled the chair. "Do you need me to untie this?" She gestured to the halter tied at her nape.
"Nah." Happy moved efficiently, tucking paper towels into her shirt, then squirting disinfectant on her back. He shaved the field meticulously, wiping with the disinfectant once more. Happy tested his gun a last time, then moved his stool in close enough that she could feel his hard cock against her ass.
"Ready, Ace?" He breathed against her neck, catching Tig's eyeroll over her shoulder.
"Absolutely." Ace crossed her arms across the back of the chair and put her chin down, careful to keep it centered and not contort where Happy would be working.
She let out the sexiest little moan when he made the first stroke, and Happy had to force himself to focus on the art in front of him, instead of fantasizing about what he was going to do to her when he was finished. He sank easily into the rhythm of alternating between ink and wiping the field. When the basic outline was complete, he sat back and admired his work.
"Go stretch your legs and get some water. But don't you dare fucking look at it before it's done." Happy pegged her was hard stare, so that she knew he wasn't joking. "Tig." He caught the man's attention.
"Yeah, I fucking got it. Watch her. Make sure no one touches her, blah blah." Tig mimicked, but stood and followed Ace anyway.
Shark approached Happy warily. He'd spent a lot of miles with the assassin, too many to mistake the cold shoulder he was feeling.
"Looks good." Shark complimented, nodding at Ace's retreating back. He waited for his former partner to acknowledge the olive branch, but the longer he stood here, the clearer it became that Happy wasn't planning on budging. "Look, brother, I wasn't trying to step in on what's yours."
"That's not what it looked like." Happy finally stood and glared at the younger man. "For the last three days, it's looked an awful lot like every single time I wasn't there, you made a point to be right fucking there."
"Oh yeah, Hap's been waiting to jump on this!" Tig rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Sit down, dollface."
"Jesus, Happy, I wasn't pushing up on her, I was trying to make sure she was alright with how everything went down. You didn't even give her any options, man!" Shark burst out, then closed his mouth, realizing immediately that he'd made a serious error. He planted his feet more securely on the wood floor and crossed his arms across his chest, drawing himself up to his full height. Happy just cocked his head to the side and studied him, eyes glittering dangerously cold.
"C'mere, Ace." Happy called to her, voice low and flat. He never took his eyes off of Shark, and when he reached a hand out to cup Ace's neck, she was exactly where his hand landed. He pulled her in hard against his body, and felt her arms go around his waist. He liked having her tucked in safe and protected.
"Shark thinks I didn't give you any choice about being with me." He told her conversationally, as though it weren't perfectly clear that she had gone to him freely. "Go on and tell him, baby."
"I already tried." Came her surprising answer. She turned her gaze up to him, unfazed that he still hadn't looked away from Shark. "I explained that you gave me the choice to stay with you or to go away and become someone new. I told him that you were always the only option."
"Good girl." He praised her, still in the eerie flat voice. It struck many of the brothers that had crowded in to watch the exchange that while no man was unaffected by Happy's predatory lethality, the small redhead was utterly unconcerned at being cozied right up to the beast.
"Don't you ever even think that I wouldn't be looking after what's mine. You're not her old man." Happy spat at Shark's feet. "Call Quinn for a transfer, I don't fucking trust you on my crew."
With that, Happy pushed Ace back toward her chair, and deliberately turned his unprotected back on Shark. It was a clear insult, especially when the sound of Shark's boots retreated from the clubhouse. The only sound when Happy fired up his tattoo gun was Tigger's hysterical giggling as he pulled his seat in even tighter.
"Come on, dollface," he said, reaching for her hand, "If you can wind him up like that, I'll even hold your hand while your old man inks you."
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