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 58
"Ooh, I canna watch this anymoore, Jossy!" Chibs was laughing, turning away as if some gory scene were playing out in front of him, but Joss was holding his hand so tightly, there was no way he could have abandoned her, even if he had truly wanted to. "Blooody awful place yeh chose, girl!"
"I know!" Joss almost screamed, and squeezed Chibs's hand even more. "And that's why you aren't leaving me, this hurts like hell!" Oh God…the needle seemed like it was made of molten metal, jabbing and stabbing into the skin over her lower ribcage for what seemed like forever now…Jesus Christ…at least she wasn't getting color…but the detail work alone was now really beginning to kill her…she wanted so badly to call a time out…but she'd bet Tig she could make it all the way through, without stopping, unless of course the artist himself needed or wanted to take a break. She never would have agreed to such a thing…this being her first tattoo and all…but they were at the CBA's and Tig was in such a foul mood…offering herself up as some sort of pin cushion had seemed to bring him around a little, and with Gemma now sitting at the SAMCRO booth, it freed Joss up to get her ink done, with Chibs alongside as her currently assigned security detail…by decree of Tig, of course. Tig had refused to even come into the CBA's, he was out in the parking lot, hanging in the little off site, tent city, clubhouse that SAMCRO had set up…if anyone asked where he was, he'd told her to tell them he was "camping."
It hadn't really been that bad of a day, despite Tig's misgivings about the CBA's. Yes, there were civilians everywhere…and they all had stupid comments and questions, and all of them that stopped by SAMCRO's booth had some "secret" word or salute to share with her, trying to maybe impress her with their knowledge of the one percenter world, and Joss had spent a lot time explaining that her patch did mean that she was the property of a reaper man…and then she'd have to explain just what "property" meant…it was getting tedious, and the day wasn't even half over yet. And then she'd noticed the local tattoo shop had their own booth…
On the more enjoyable side, besides her ink, she'd been getting compliments all day long about how pretty she was, and about how she "didn't seem like a biker bitch"…whatever that meant…and every time someone said it, she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking them what they were basing that on…driving the motorcycle equivalent of a station wagon, lots of compartments and saddle bags to hold their GPS and CD's, picnic lunches and bottles of wine…yeah, idiot stock brokers and IT Directors…she had no trouble seeing why Tig was more than annoyed with them. But Joss was able to smile through her annoyance, and she'd posed for quite a lot of pictures today too…and when the first guy had asked if he could get a picture with her, wow, had that been fun! Joss had no right to decide if she could pose in a picture with someone, or for someone…she, and her likeness, belonged to Tig, and that's just who she'd called. He'd sworn he wasn't even coming into the official grounds of the CBA's, he was just going to hang in the parking lot all damn day, but when she had put that question to him, her man had come into the SAMCRO booth, and that civilian with the camera got to see just what "Property of Tig" really meant…and then he'd made the guy give him twenty dollars for taking a picture with Joss. Wow…Tig and civilians…it was going to be an interesting weekend!
Far worse than the civilians though, were the wannabes; they looked like bikers, they talked like bikers, they covered themselves in ink that mimicked various clubs, and wore a lot of patches…but none of them had the balls to be actual bikers. They were only here to get their rocks off by maybe fooling other civilians into thinking they were one percenters too, and collecting respect they were a long way from having earned. Joss hated them about as much as Tig did, particularly because most of them had been walking past the SAMCRO booth all day, eyeing her up, grinning and pointing and leering at her as if she was some common hangaround. Assholes…just wait until her old man found out! In that instance, Joss was glad that Tig had arranged for her to have a "bodyguard" on duty, giving the brothers he trusted the most each three hour shifts to sit with her. Clay had been first, and now it was Chibs, who'd given her that last bit of courage she'd needed to go and get the tattoo she'd always dreamed of.
It would have been nice if Tig could have been here to see her getting her first tattoo…it wasn't like he was hiding from anyone out there in the parking lot, there was actually more civilians out there, with all their creative attempts at refurbishing a motorcycle, than there were in here, because the bigger party was out there, un-policed, in the parking lot of the CBA's…hmm…oh…so that's why he was out there…probably trying to drink away where he was. Oh well, at least Joss would have the chance to surprise him with the ink she got when it was done. Once she had his permission, it hadn't taken her long to think of this, but she also hadn't told Tig what she was getting, she'd only promised him that he'd see himself in it…a tiger, in black portrait, standing there regally, bent a little bit around the curves of her hip and waist, its head held high and tilted a bit like the big cat was rubbing affectionately on her lower ribcage, but its expression slightly aggravated, mouth slightly open, just enough to show off the big, sharp teeth that no one wanted any part of. It was perfect…like having Tig's name scrawled on her skin, but no letters needed!
She'd always wanted something like this, something that would make everyone who saw it think of Tig, but if she'd ever done it before, Tig would have been pissed…but she belonged to him now, it was more than "okay," it was expected…and she'd kept her skin clear of any ink until this moment had arrived in her life. But laying on the table the way she was, she couldn't see the total design, or even what parts were finished, she had Chibs for that…and also emotional support…but mostly, he was like that leather strap they used to put in people's mouths when the surgeon starting cutting in cowboy movies. God damn this hurt…it wasn't too bad to start with…but now…Oh God…Joss wondered sometimes if the artist had put down the tattoo gun and decided to do the rest of the design with the end of his lit cigarette. Tig had laughed and told her she was in for a "world of hurt," when she told him where she was getting her ink, but Jesus…did it ever end? No, it didn't…fuck…and she couldn't move, she had to stay still, move and it messed up the design…there was no way to get away from it, no way to lessen it even for a second or two…Joss took a deep deep breath and then slung her arm over her eyes, hoping to disappear from the burning, skin ripping pain that way.
"Jossy," Chibs whispered, obviously noticing her distress. "Yeh needin' a break, loove?"
"No," she shook her head fiercely. "If I do, Tig wins…I want to show him I can do this!" And she did…she was tired of hearing how he fell asleep when he got his back cover done; she didn't doubt that he did, and if he could take it, she could take it…he had to know she was strong enough. "Besides, I think he wants me to win! Might improve his outlook on being here, too." They had quite a future ahead of them, and the more solid she could show him she was, the better for everyone and everything they touched! "I'm good," she said to Chibs…but then couldn't stop herself from wincing and drawing in a hissing breath as the jabbing needle suddenly felt like it gouged a thirty-eight caliber sized hole into her skin, bounced off her rib and then went skipping across her stomach…she gasped and looked up at Chibs again, holding his hand with both of hers now. "Just, don't let me pass out, okay?"
"Hey, Joss," she knew it was Sack who approached her, but she couldn't look at him the way she was laying, but she could see him peripherally, and he seemed to be carrying a Styrofoam plate or bowl. "Tig said to feed you."
"What?" Chibs jeered, looking up at the prospect. "Did he sa'ay tooo let'er out tooo?"
Joss laughed, but was shaking her head. "No, he's only trying to make me take a break!" She said to Sack. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry just yet."
By that time Chibs had leaned over and looked at the Styrofoam dish Sack carried and scoffed at it. "Yeh expect 'er tooo eat a big bowl a pickle relish, doo yeh, proospect?"
"Hey, man," Sack was looking at the little green pickle chunks and shaking his head too. "Tig says this is what she eats…I just brought it over here."
Joss started to laugh…yeah, that sounded like something Tig would do. "Well, usually, they still look like whole pickles when I eat them, but yeah." She admitted to Chibs, but then looked back at Sack. "How is Tig? Is he behaving?"
Sack rolled his eyes, obviously not sure what he could say and what he couldn't say. "Oh yeah, he's 'behaving,'" he said. "Vlad the Impaler I think used to behave similiarly."
"Oh no," Joss groaned, and closed her eyes again, but gave Chibs's hand another squeeze, and he squeezed back this time, showing his support. She could just see Tig, leaning there on his bike, relaxed, smoking a cigarette, with a ring of impaled three-piecers around him, blood dripping and nerve endings still making their legs dance. "How many fights has he gotten into?"
"About three," Replied Sack, counting on his fingers, then grimacing a little and kind of bobbing his head side to side as he thought it over. "Well, more like two and a half, because Ope pulled him out of the last one and they've been talking ever since, so he's kinda mellow right now."
"Really?" Joss was so surprised she nearly sat up to read Sack's face and make sure he was telling her the truth. Tig was talking with Ope? After Opie interrupted his fight? Tig loved to fight, and he hated to talk to Opie…but he was "mellow," really?
"We're awl keeepin' an eye on'im, Jossy." Assured Chibs. "He's o'er broother, we noo how he is. Set yer worries else wheres."
"Yeah, but he and Opie?" She asked, looking at Chibs then Half-Sack, and then finally down at the artist, still engrossed in his work. "Hey," she said as politely as her stinging, smoldering skin and thundering, anxious heart would allow her to. "How close to finished are we here?" She had to get out there…if Tig was "mellow," talking to Opie was likely to change that pretty soon…besides, Tig had gotten into two or three fights already? Shit! It was only a little after one o'clock…this didn't end until ten tonight, and then they had tomorrow to get through as well…not to mention that the parties in the parking lot just went on all night…shit…yeah, she had to go check on her man…a blow job might settle him down and put his mind back in a happier place than the CBA's were for him, or talking with Ope was…"when my fist clenches, crack it open…" wasn't that a line in the last song Tig had communicated his feelings and needs to her in?
"Another twenty, maybe thirty minutes," answered the young man with the brown goatee and big, huge, fuzzy side burns. "If you have to go—"
"Noo!" Chibs quickly answered, and placed his hand on Joss's shoulder, holding her down on the table and looking at her now as the artist continued with the work. "Yer right, girlie," he said to her, nodding. "Tig wants yeh to win."
Chapter 58; Part 2
She'd left the purple and black western style shirt she wore tied under her bust line, the gauze pads taped to her torso kept wrinkling up, and the adhesive tape holding them on was pulling away with every stride, but Joss kept running, all the way out to where the little tent "Clubhouse" was, hoping she wasn't already too late and that Tig hadn't killed Opie or anything like that. But her ink was done, and all it one sitting…no breaks! But she hadn't taken the time to really look at it, just asked to be taped up, and then she was on her way to Tig…hoping he hadn't gone and done…something.
The black and silver tent looked empty, SAMCRO bikes all around it, including Tig's, and Opie's, but everyone must have been inside the CBA's…where Joss should have technically been, but she had to know all was well...the club may have been Tig's first priority, but Tig was her first priority, and she knew he wouldn't be inside the awards…at least if he was, she'd likely have been aware of it, because there'd have been some kind of rampaging beat-down occurring. And then she heard Tig's voice as she got closer to the tent, confirming he was in there…but who was he talking to? He didn't sound angry or annoyed, he was just talking…it had to be Clay, but when Joss pushed the tent flap back, she was stunned to see her man and Opie, seated in folding camping chairs, each drinking a beer, smoking a cigarette and just…talking.
"Hey!" Tig looked up at her and kind of scowled in confusion. "You can't be making a positive impression on the civilians from here! Whaddya want?"
Shit! Had she interrupted something in her assumption that something was either wrong or was shortly going to be? And she was standing there looking all suspicious too! "Sorry!" Joss about squeaked with a quick intake of breath. "I thought—"
"It's okay," Opie swallowed the last of his beer and popped his cigarette back into his mouth as he stood, taking a drag. "I was thinking about going back to the 'zoo' anyway."
"Yeah," said Tig, but remained seated, "not me, man."
"Don't blame you," replied Ope, set down his empty and leaned down to duck through the doorway, stopping momentarily in front of Joss as he did, giving her a small, pleasant smile, that also seemed so hurried and hidden. "Joss," he said, giving her a politely acknowledging nod, like he would have tipped his hat had he been wearing one with some kind of brim, then took his leave.
Joss let him pass without looking at him, she was too shocked…she'd never expected this, and now she had no idea what would happen next. Was Tig angry? Was Tig high? That would certainly explain him having a calm and mature conversation with Opie, the way normal adults did…but Tig's eyes weren't dilated, or blood shot, his reactions weren't delayed…what the hell was going on? He was the one who had said Opie was in love with her, so why wasn't he choking him out? "Are you okay?" She asked, completely without answers and hoping Tig would tell her something…because if he kept this a secret, which he had every right to do, Joss wouldn't sleep tonight.
"Yeah," he looked back at her and shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. "Are you?"
"I don't know," Joss shook her head. "You've been in an awful mood all day and—"
"Still am," he said, as if reminding her.
"Right," she nodded. "So I don't know if I'm 'okay' until you tell me what that was."
"Hey," now Tig smiled mysteriously and pointed at her. "You get it all done? It's finished? How many breaks you have to ask for?"
Shit, he was changing the subject and asking about the gauze pads that covered her brand new ink. She loved him, and her patch was her most valued possession, but God damn, sometimes it sucked to be property! Joss sighed. "Yeah, it's finished." She said flatly, and looked at him steadily and unsmilingly, letting him know she wanted to talk about him and Opie, but all Joss could really do was hope that Tig would give a little bit.
"How many times did you need to ask the guy to stop and give you a chance to recover, though?" He smiled again.
Fuck! But what could she do? "I didn't, not once. Ask Chibs, he was with me the entire time." But the tattoo didn't exist for her right now, she couldn't really even feel the stinging of the skin beneath the gauze pad…she was desperate to know about Tig and Opie, and she made sure that still showed in her voice, and her stare.
"Really?" Tig asked, like he'd be checking out her story. "Damn baby, that looks like it was a lotta ink to get, right there, in all one sitting."
"It was," she agreed, and was beginning to see she should give up; Tig wasn't ready to talk about this, not now…maybe not ever.
"So let's see it," he smiled again, and beckoned to her with his index finger. "C'mere."
"Tig!" Joss stamped her foot, shoulders stooping and an exasperated sound huffing out of her…but immediately after she froze…fuck…she'd made it clear she wanted to talk about something other than her tattoo, and now she really was in trouble!
"Jesus fucking Christ, Joss!" Tig shouted now, getting to his feet and slamming his beer bottle into the ground, only seeming to be more frustrated when it bounced slightly on the grass instead of shattering the way he'd wanted it to, or needed it to. "I didn't ask you to come running out here to check up on me like I'm a God damn four year old with a box of matches! Don't stand there like I owe you a fucking explanation! I don't!"
Now she noticed how busted up and red the knuckles on both his hands were from his previous fights that day…great…she had to pick the day that he was in the worst mood he'd been in for quite awhile to have an attitude with him about something? But she wasn't able to help it…so much was riding on this…was it okay to talk to Opie? Was he dead? Was he alive? What the hell was she supposed to do? And what was Tig going to do? "I know," she said, trying to make this right now, trying to sound calm, but Jesus, she really wanted to know what was going on with him and Ope! Just because it sounded like things were okay, didn't mean they were! "I'm sorry, Tig, I am! But you know why I'm worried."
Tig sighed, looked away from her a moment, arms akimbo. "I know," he said, without yelling this time, but after another breath, his voice had amped up a bit again. "I need space with this Joss! You can't come rushing into this shit between Ope and me, because I don't want you in it yet, okay?"
Joss nodded submissively; at least he was saying…something about it now. "Okay," she said, "I understand that, and I'm sorry, but," she paused, she had to ask this, she had to know this…but was asking it such a good idea? "Can you at least tell me if something's wrong?"
Tig hissed his frustration at her furthering questions, then looked around the tent for something to punch or break or demolish, but there wasn't much in it that fit the bill. He shook his head, gritted his teeth, a vein beginning to pulse in his neck…Joss felt herself ducking inwardly, though she knew Tig wouldn't hurt her. "Holy hell, I am not going to make it through this weekend without having to fucking kill someone!" He roared, and then swung an angry paw at the camping chairs, knocking them both over like dominos, but then turned away from her and shook himself, took another deep breath, and turned back to her, still trying to collect himself. "I can't tell you if anything's wrong yet, Joss." He finally said, his irritation still showing in his voice, though he wasn't exactly yelling anymore. "You remember when you were telling me you 'don't know how I do it?' Well right now, I don't fucking know either, cuz I'm still trying to get this figured out, still trying to get Ope figured out…but it's not going to happen in a day or two, it's going to take a lot of…I don't even know what, to fucking get this figured out!"
Oh no…now Joss felt so awful, she was obviously rushing him on something that she had no business even knowing about…just because it may have been hard for her didn't mean that Tig could come up with an answer any sooner than he'd be able to come up with it. He was trying…but so was she…damn…this would all be so much easier to understand, and be patient with if he'd just tell her what happened between he and Opie. Joss had a fair idea, but she wasn't certain, there were pieces missing, and without having them, this was a puzzle she'd never be able to put together and feel secure about. "I'm sorry," she said again, and this time, she really felt that she was, but she wanted him to understand. "I don't mean to be putting pressure on you, really I don't…but I do have to look to you for everything, and I know there's pressure on you in that alone, but, Tig, when you—" hmm, she'd maybe better not say what she'd planned on saying…but then again, if she were distracted, her man was distracted, and the club was distracted. Joss took a deep breath and steadied herself. "When you shut me out of things, it makes me worry."
"Fuck," Tig sighed, and kicked meekly at the downed camping chair, then looked up at her, like he understood about making her worry as much as Joss felt that she was sorry for putting undue, and unrealized, pressure on him. "C'mere." He said again. Not many people would have willingly done so, knowing Tig and the day he was having, but Joss stepped over to him stalwartly, yet still submissively. "Look at me," he told her, and she did, Tig's hands framing her face next, and then he kissed her. "That's because I—" and all of sudden he cut himself off, "because you are what you are to me," Joss smiled a bit, knowing what he'd almost said, and not at all surprised he'd pulled it at the last minute when the words flashed in his mind. "And because I want you to know that I'm not trying to shut you out. I don't think I can really do that anyway, I've been trying to for two fucking years, and it's worked so well, you're my old lady now!" He said as if complaining fiercely, and he was a little, but Joss's slight smile remained, threatening to turn into giggles. "But I need space with this Opie thing, baby. I understand that you're concerned, and I understand that you wanna be there for me…hell, I already fucking saw what you'd do anyone you thought was trying to hurt me, or us, and believe me, baby, it gets me hot as hell, too…but, this thing with me and Ope, it ain't your shit. And I'm begging you, please, give me the time to feel all this out, so I will know if it's okay or not. And until I do know, you just love me, and I'll do the same for you, and I swear to God, Joss, I won't let anyone hurt you!"
Joss felt tears in her eyes…shit…but no one had ever said and done so many things that made them appear there in such a wonderful way like Tig did. "I know," she said, and the let him pull her close, her palms flat on his chest, and this time Tig didn't allow her arms or hands any further than that, but she'd known not to expect him to. "And I do love you."
"I know you do," he said, and pulled her a little closer, laying his cheek on top of her head.
"And I am sorry, too." She added, snuggling in a little more against his strong, broad chest.
"I'm gettin' fuckin' sick of hearing you say that, so stop it." He ordered sternly, but still held her and rested his cheek to her head. Joss just smiled, he was unhappy today in general, and plus, he was Tig. They were both quiet a few more seconds, Tig pulling her a little closer and a little closer, finally kissing her again, and again, and again…all the fires were damn near lit for them to go and seal themselves up from the rest of the world and just be…together…but of course with the fucking CBA's, they couldn't exactly to that. Tig sighed, raised his head and looked down at her. "So," he half smiled, realizing that he was only going to be starting something that couldn't be properly finished if he continued kissing her. "Let's see the ink!"
Fuck! Joss had been there in his arms and feeling her side and belly burning, but she'd forgotten all about it! But now she smiled, these were much better conditions under which to reveal her Tig-tribute tattoo! "It's a little bigger than I told you it would be," she admitted as she pushed her patch back and then carefully peeled back the adhesive tape on her skin, hoping that she wasn't going to see blood when she did, because her skin sure felt like it should be bleeding. But as the gauze folded back, it was clean, all was as it should have been, it was just tender, like it should have been.
Tig's beautiful blue immediately were on the ink, studying every detail, smiling a little, putting his hands on her hips and turning her a bit so he could see the whole thing, and he smiled a bit more, but then shook it from his features and looked at her unimpressed. "It's a cat."
"It's more than just a cat!" Joss replied, having seen him smile already, but knowing he didn't want to show that he liked it, that he did see himself in the ink on her body, just like she'd promised, but he really was touched, that was obvious, he couldn't take his eyes off of the "cat."
"It's nice," Tig finally said, still looking at it, and staring at the tiger's teeth now, and the way it was nuzzling her body, marking her and ready to protect her from anything. "But it's not me," he said, looking up at her, then he kind of smirked, looking back down at the ink again. "Go back and get a minus sign with an 'E' and an 'R!'"