Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story.
Chapter 11
"I know it's nothing like you're old place," Maybe Tig didn't notice that he'd had a hammer in his hand the whole time he took her around the house. But he did, just kept hold of it with a firm hand as he showed her the new paneling in the living room, the sectional that Clay and Gemma had given them, the brand new forty-eight inch plasma TV that he wasn't real clear on the purchasing details of, and then onto the kitchen and the new dishwasher that he still didn't think they needed. Next the downstairs bathroom and the tale of how Bobby, who Joss hadn't even met yet, got himself stuck in the corner between the wall and the commode while he was tiling and needed Tig to yank him out.
Then it was down to the basement where he'd found all the snake skins, still some cleaning out to do down there, but from there it was back upstairs, back through the living room, where the carpet was supposed to be tan, but when he picked it up, it was black, but the guy at the store didn't speak enough English, so Tig just took it and left. Then itwas up the stairs, into a red stairwell, that matched nothing else in the house, but Half-Sack, who Joss also hadn't yet met, had sworn there was no other paint to be had. Upstairs there were two empty bedrooms to the left, that would be good for when some of the guys might need to sleep it off, and there was another bathroom midway down the hall that was much bigger and nicer than the downstairs one Bobby had nearly taken up permanent residence in.
There was one more room at the opposite end of the upstairs hallway, but the door was shut, and before Joss could ask about it, Tig, hammer clutched in his hand, was leading her back down the red stairwell, back into the kitchen, and through the storm door, out into the garage where his bike was expertly parked in front of a full tool bench and peg board containing more motorcycle and automotive repair equipment than Joss could even name. Yes, it was all very impressive, in just over a month, he'd turned an abandoned house into a more than decent abode for the two of them, but where were they going to sleep? Was there no master bedroom? Were there just too many snake skins in it? Was there some sort of romantic reveal coming that he wanted to surprise her with? Oh yeah, that was definitely it! Tig and romance went together like the King James Bible and an ad for a penis pump…which Tig didn't require…Joss couldn't help her sudden mysterious smile. She'd missed him, having him close every night hadn't been quite close enough.
"Tig, you know I don't even want to think about my 'old place,' there's nothing good about it to remember," Joss smiled up at him and tried to reach across and weave her hand into the one of his that wasn't holding that hammer still. But when she touched him, she felt all the muscles in his arm and hand tense. For a second she couldn't help glancing downwards at where her fingers gradually squeezed between his, wondering if she'd somehow hurt him. Something was with him again, he'd seemed so eager and even happy when she and Gemma had first arrived, couldn't wait to show her around the new place, but after Gemma had left he'd changed into a hammer toting, rambling, babbling, fast walking tour guide. What happened? "I love this house, and I love all the work you've done on it even more!" She smiled and closed the distance between them, her hands on his chest, leaning her head to the side a bit and angling her chin up, Tig leaning downwards in a familiar motion, but suddenly distracted by something and pulling away before a kiss was ever truly off the ground.
He pulled his hand from hers and turning away to look around the garage, shaking his head. "It's not done, feels like it'll never get there…and too much of the time I'm just standing here wishing I knew what to do next." The hammer he held began to swing, into the palm of his open hand, claw end first, as though he had no idea of what he was about to inflict upon himself.
"Hey!" Joss quickly reached out and caught the arm of the hand with the swinging hammer in it, stopping Tig's motion and not letting go. "Maybe I should hold this for awhile?" She said, smiling calmly as she indicated the hammer, but she was beginning to get concerned that all the work had gotten to him and she hoped she could say something to end this newest mood before it really got started. "You look a little like that guy "Schneider" on that old seventies show "One Day At A Time." She laughed.
Evidently Tig hadn't caught what she'd said at all, and it was quickly apparent that he didn't realize he was even holding a hammer either. "Why do I have this fucking thing?" He asked no one in particular, and just dropped it on the floor of the garage, now trying not to look at her, because he obviously hadn't meant for her to see him with that hammer…at least, it seemed.
Joss stooped and picked it up, laying it on the tool bench behind her, but quickly turning her attention back to Tig, who was looking more and more fidgety and agitated, standing near his bike now and meticulously picking off the little tiny bits of dead leaves that the breeze kicked up around the house. She'd seen this before, recognized the symptoms, and began to shut down the worry that was blooming inside her head and heart. He was nervous, she could handle this, just had to get him to stop thinking about all the work to be done. "The house will get done, Tig. You'll figure it out, and I'll help too!" She smiled, slowly moving up beside him, but not getting too close, letting him have whatever space he needed. She'd expected him to have his occasional bouts of cold feet, but to be unraveling again, less than an hour after Gemma left them alone, was a bit of a surprise. Joss was confident, but then again she barely knew how to navigate through this with him; all her prior skills and manipulations with Tig had been centered on trying to get him to do what she wanted, not try to hold him together. But now she had to learn how to do just that, and this was certainly a crash course.
He nodded, but it was a jerky kind of anxious reaction and not a true acknowledgement of what she'd said, and he still wouldn't look at her. There was a dead bug or something splattered on the chrome of the throttle and Tig set about scratching it off with his thumbnail. It was stubbornly stuck there though, took some buffing of his shirt sleeve, but instead of bringing out angry frustration in him, it seemed to take him down into some kind of self doubt. He looked across the garage now, not at her, his head hung down so low that from the back he looked like there was nothing a top his shoulders. He stopped polishing the throttle and now leaned against the seat of his bike with both hands, completely still and completely silent for what felt like a long time, but then from out of nowhere, Joss heard him speak. "What if I can't do this?"
She knew it! Joss breathed a sigh of relief, it was this again, they'd discussed this several times as they lay together in Jax's old bed, Tig too keyed up by the whole sleeping arrangements to close his eyes and even pretend to be asleep. It was more of the same; yeah, she could handle this, no problem. Her immediate reaction had always been to stay positive against his negatives. "And what if you can?"
But this time was different, Tig immediately stiffened against her boost of confidence, his back still to her, shaking his head and holding up the back of one hand with a sharp, displeased movement, pushing her away from him without even having to touch her. "Joss!" he said quickly and shortly, shaking his head. No, he wasn't about to be encouraged, just couldn't deal with that right now.
"Okay," she sighed, a little lost with how she should proceed now, but she took a step back from him, knowing this was no time to make him feel closed in, he was much too irritated. But she had to do something; she was his old lady now, part of that meant easing these periods of…whatever this was, right? Well, maybe. Joss really wasn't sure just what being his old lady meant, she didn't know how to do this. Maybe it would help Tig to know he wasn't alone in that feeling? "Look, I've never tried doing this before. I'm not sure how good at this I'm going to be either. My father fucked me over in more ways than one, and the other guys that I have been with didn't give me any of this," she said gesturing around the house, her hands coming to rest on the black leather vest she wore. "I know it was a long time ago, and I know you don't like to think about it, but you have done this before, Tig, and you did it the right way, too. As far as this fucked up thing between you and me goes, out of the two of us, you aren't the one I'm worried about."
To her surprise he gave a grunting kind of laugh, only briefly then straightened up a little, still facing away from her. "You'll be fine, Joss. You're already doing fine." He didn't sound like he was being facetious, there was no explosion of anger on the rise, he'd just given her an unexpected compliment, but things weren't better, they weren't over. Tig sighed like he wished the conversation could just be over, and being that he did effectively own her, it could have been over any time he said that it was, but instead, he was struggling to explain just what it was that had him so keyed up. "That wasn't what I meant."
"What else is there?" Joss closed the distance between them, sensing it was safe to do so, and there was something she'd felt in his voice that seemed to want her near him. If it wasn't the actual repairs still needed on the house, and it wasn't their pending domestic life, then really, what else was there?
He sighed again, slowly turned towards her, but not all the way, giving her half a glance, but his eyes shifting towards the work bench like it was a safer thing to be looking at…maybe he wanted that hammer back, it was some kind of…security hammer? "Just, what if I can't?"
Joss shook her head. What if he can't what? Communicate effectively? Right now, she'd give that one a big fail! "Tig," she sighed and gently stroked his forearm with the back of her hand, repressing the frustration that was starting to build. "I'm sorry. Usually, I get you pretty good, but you're going to have to give me more of clue than that on this one."
She could see his lower teeth scrape against the inside of his lower lip, deep in some kind of new mental anguish as he tried to fortify himself against the thought of elaborating, obviously not wanting to say more than he already had. Whatever it was, he didn't want to give it a name; it was just too scary to think about that way. Joss stepped even closer, not sure if she did it to try and comfort Tig, or herself, but before it could really matter, Tig suddenly bent his knees and squatted down by the bike, pulled the dipstick, but not all the way, just a little, moving the long rod of it in and out of the slick hole in the oil pan once or twice, then slamming it back in again.
Oh God! He was afraid he couldn't…that when they tried to…that his…he was nervous about whether he could…Tig? Joss couldn't get her mind around that image! She was stunned that he had such a concern, had never been ready for this to be what he revealed to her! But she should have been able to figure it out. Looking back, the only physical contact they'd really had over the last few weeks was laying there together uncomfortably in Jax's old bed, but there'd scarcely been a kiss between them since the whole patch thing had gone down, and even when she and Gemma had arrived, Tig had given her a hug, a big hug, held her so close that she knew how much he was starving for her body, but after Gemma had drove away, and it was only him and her, things had deteriorated physically. Okay, he'd given her his patch, and that certainly had changed what they used to have together, it definitely wasn't the same anymore, but that didn't mean that…but, what did Joss really know about any of this herself? The more she tried to come up with an answer, the more lost she discovered she was. She'd never faced this either. Fucking wasn't fucking anymore…or was it? Damn it! How did you combine sex and love without them extinguishing each other?
Tig wouldn't look at her, poor thing. He just stared at the cement of the garage floor, too embarrassed to look at her, but he did speak, like he'd so much rather still have a secret that she didn't understand, but he offered no solutions. "Just please don't tell me you think I'm afraid I can't check my oil…"