Aoife's alarm clock went off at 5:30. She reached over Chibs to turn it off and settled back into his arms. He opened his eyes and kissed the tip of her nose. "Do I want to know what time it is, lass?"

"Would you settle for an answer of too damn early?" she asked, kissing his lips before he could answer. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her soft, warm body against his muscled chest, her fingertips ghosting across the back of his neck.

"I could get used to getting up early if it was always like this," he whispered after a few minutes.

"Aye," Aoife murmured. The knowledge that every morning couldn't be like this saddened Chibs. When they paused for breath, he cupped the side of her face with his hand. Seeing the serious look on his face, Aoife stopped and stared back. "Something's bothering you?"

He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Just knowing that I can't wake up like this every single morning, lass." He bit his lip before continuing. "These past two days with you have been like a dream I don't want ever want to wake up from. I'll be here as much as I can as long as you want me, but some of the work I do…" His voice trailed off as he wondered how to explain it to her without pulling her in too deep. He decided on a slightly different tack. "There will be nights when I won't be able to be here and I won't be able to tell you where I am or what I'm doing. Club business." Oh, yeah, 'cause that doesn't sound suspicious, he thought to himself. To his surprise, Aoife just nodded. He peered at her. "Are you alright with that?"

"I grew up IRA, remember, a ghrá? This is nothing new to me." She smiled reassuringly, but then her face faltered. "How will I know you're safe?"

Chibs wanted to crow with joy. They'd cleared an important hurdle in most MC relationships with only a few minutes of conversation. A lot of girlfriends never made it to being old ladies because they couldn't handle knowing about club business and couldn't handle not knowing about it. All Aoife wanted to know was that he would come home safely. "I'm going to leave you my cell number. I can't always answer or talk, but I will text you anytime I will need to be out of touch for a while."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart," Chibs drew an invisible X with his fingers over his left breast. He kissed the tip of her nose. "I like it when you say sweet things to me in Gaelic." They kissed again, and then Aoife's phone began to buzz.

"Fuck. That's my 'get your lazy ass downstairs' alarm," she grumbled as she shut it off. "I've got 15 minutes until I have to unlock the door of the shop." She disentangled herself from him and rushed into the bathroom.

Chibs dressed, as there was no point in showering before a long day crawling under greasy engines. He would need to grab another mechanic's shirt when he got to Teller-Morrow, but other than that, he was ready, right down to his sunglasses, by the time Aoife came out of the bathroom still combing out her hair. She let him out the front door of the coffee shop with a bag of baked goods and a fresh, hot cup of coffee. With her on the front steps and Chibs on the sidewalk, they were almost the same height, and she planted a searing kiss on his lips. "Go dté tú slán, a ghrá," she whispered.

He thought for a minute - the Gaelic his IRA dealings employed was worlds apart from the sweet words he wanted to whisper . "Slán go fóill, a chuisle mo chroí," he finally responded, brushing his lips against hers before walking to his bike.

Chibs enjoyed one of the cinnamon streusel muffins and then went to work on his first car of the morning, a fairly straightforward brake job. He finished it off, drove the car back to the lot, and was walking to drop off the keys and invoice with Gemma when the Prospect came around the corner and looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Something wrong, Prospect?" Chibs asked.

"Were you just whistling?"

Before Chibs could answer, Tig, his hair a wild mess, piped in, "He was. He needs to cut that shit out at this hour of morning." Chibs flipped him off, still smiling. "So, did you nail that Irish pussy? Seems like she should at least put out after you got stabbed for her."

Chibs' smile turned slightly menacing. "Tiggy, we talked about this the other day. You insist on calling my girl those kinds of names, and we'll meet in the ring. I think we both remember how that went last time." Tig bristled but took a step back. Clay had raised holy hell when Chibs put Tig out of commission for two days not too long after Chibs came to Samcro. Tig's offense at the time had been mocking Chibs' loyalty to Fiona while she was, as Tig put it, fucking the man who'd fucked Chibs. "So, are you done talking shit about my Aoife?" Chibs pressed.

"I guess so," Tig said as he backed down further.

"Glad to hear it,"Chibs said as he threw an arm around his friend's shoulders, willing to forgive and forget. "'Cause if you weren't, the fresh muffins she sent along would be off-limits."

"Shit, man, did she send any of those chocolate chip muffins?" Tig asked. During Chibs' courtship of Aoife, Tig had become addicted to the chocolate muffins that contained milk, dark, and white chocolate chips.

"Aye, she did." Chibs nodded, and Tig took off for the break area like a man on a mission.

That afternoon, Gemma sent Chibs and the prospect out with a list of repos to collect. As they were departing, Clay was crossing the parking lot. "Chibs, we're having a party tonight. We've got some visitors from another charter and we want to show them some hospitality. We've missed you the last few days."

Chibs got the message loud and clear. He texted Aoife. "Tonight's going to be a late night out for me. Wish I could spend it with you. Sweet dreams, lovely." By the time he spent the expected amount of time at the party, she would have to be in bed if she was going to get up at 5:30 to open the coffee shop by 6. Maybe she would let him have a key, he mused, so that he could come over late and crawl into bed with her without disturbing her.

Chibs finished off his cigarette and flicked it out the window before he punched the button to turn off the radio. "That music's shite anyway." The truck windows were rolled down and the breeze picked up Chibs' short hair and made it dance. He could almost imagine that those tendrils were Aoife, running her hands through his hair while he kissed her. He smiled to himself as he thought about how gorgeous she had looked last night, her dark hair splayed like a halo around her head and her breath coming in excited little gasps while he paid homage to the pale soft flesh of her belly.

"Uh, Chibs, you're doing it again," the prospect said hesitantly, breaking Chibs out of his daydream.

"Doing what?" Chibs challenged.

"You're, uh, you're whistling."

Chibs turned an eerie grin on the Prospect. "Is that a problem?"

Half-Sack had the decency to look chagrined. "No, it's just not something I've heard you do before.

"Well, for your information, Prospect, I had a fucking fantastic day off yesterday and it put me in a very good mood." Chibs lit up another cigarette. He noticed the prospect gaping at him. "You got something to say, lad?"

"Is what Tig said true? Were you nailing that hot Irish chick from the coffee shop?" Sack asked curiously.

Chibs slammed an open hand on the steering well. Fucking Tig. "I'm gonna give you a piece of advice, Prospect. You have got to learn the difference between crow eaters and old ladies. You can say crude shit all day long about crow eaters and sweet butts, but when it comes to a man's old lady, you gotta show respect."

"But I called her hot! That's a compliment!" Chibs raised an eyebrow at the prospect and took another drag on his cigarette. "And she's not your old lady!" Sack was nervous, blurting out words now. "Tig told me your wife lives in Ireland but never got a crow tattoo and-" Chibs made a motion like slitting his own throat and Half-Sack shut up.

"Like I said before, I'm in a damn fine mood today, so I'm going to let what you just said slide. But if you ever want anything other than a prospect rocker on that cut, you had better fucking listen, because the other guys might not be so nice. If you can't tell the difference between my girl and a fucking crow eater, then you better treat every woman like an old lady until you're told otherwise. Just because a woman doesn't have Samcro ink yet doesn't mean that you can treat her like interchangeable pussy."

"O-okay," the prospect stuttered.

"Okay and what?" Chibs asked expectantly as they pulled up to the next address on their list. He waved his hand in a "go on" gesture.

"I'm sorry for disrespecting your – your –" Half-Sack searched for the right word.

"Just call her my girl." Chibs said impatiently.

"I'm sorry for disrespecting your girl."

"Good prospect," Chibs said, giving him a gentle cuff to the ear. "I think this has been a real educational experience for you."

By the time they returned with the last car on the list, Teller-Morrow garage was dark and locked, but a party was in full swing in the clubhouse. "And here he is," Tig announced as Chibs came in to a chorus of his name. "The man of the hour." One of the sweetbutts poured a shot for him, and Tig handed it to him. "So we all heard how you spent your days off playing hero to a damsel in distress."

"What'd you hear?" Chibs asked, downing the shot and slamming the glass on the bar. "Aoife told the cops no one else was there."

"Unser was here while you were out. Said he found a bouquet of roses and a book on the front steps of the coffee shop. Let's face it, Chibs, who else in this town would be carting around a book of Robert Burns poetry?" Bobby grinned at him and handed him another shot. Chibs tossed it back immediately.

Clay slapped him on the back. "You did good, brother. The law is going to go a lot easier on the story of a little lady defending herself against a burglar than someone like you killing him, but for folks in town, it's just another demonstration that the Sons are good for Charming." Another shot appeared in front of Chibs, and he did that one too.

Chibs felt overwhelmed, trying to drown out the noise and color around him as everyone talked to him at once, wanting to hear a story that hadn't happened. He had a crow eater hanging on each arm, chattering about what big tough hero he was. He finally managed to acquire a tumbler of good Irish whiskey and passed the crow eaters off on Tig, who was only too happy to receive their attentions. He slipped through the crowd to where Jax and Opie were sitting. The crow eaters knew to leave Opie alone, and Jax had just sent another one away. The two other men knocked their beer bottles against Chibs' glass in an awkward sort of toast. Chibs raised an eyebrow as he greeted Opie.

"Thought Donna wasn't too happy about you being here?" He said mildly.

"Ellie's sleeping over at a friend's house while Donna and Kenny are on a 'mommy and me' camping trip with the YMCA. It was so lonely in the house that I had to get out." Chibs nodded in understanding. He and loneliness knew each other well.

"So is it true what they're saying? You busted in and saved that pretty little darling at the coffee shop?" Jax asked.

Chibs shook his head and sipped his whiskey. "No, it's not. I distracted him for a minute, but she shot him. I'm no fuckin' hero."

"Doesn't mean you can't use the fact that everyone thinks you are to get laid," Jax said with a laugh and a slap on Chibs' back. As if looking at Chibs for the first time, Jax said, "I thought you had Emily and Missy hanging on you. Don't tell me you walked away from that."

"I'm good, Jackie. You can have my share of pussy in this clubhouse tonight." Chibs offered with a smile. His cell phone buzzed and he read the text message from Aoife telling him that she was off to her bed, cold and lonely without him, and she couldn't wait until he could visit again. He smiled as he closed the text and took a minute to admire the photo of them together from the botanical gardens.

"Did I hear you right, man? You've got your pick of any woman in the damn place right now and you're planning to sleep alone. What's gotten into you?" Jax asked. Chibs thought for a second and then flipped his phone open and showed Jax the photo that now was his wallpaper. "Ah. You've got it bad for her, don't you?"

Opie looked at the photo and said only, "pretty," nodding at Chibs.

Chibs considered making a witty retort to Jax, but when he opened his mouth, his accent was thicker than usual. "She kisses me on the cheek. She doesn't just kiss me on the cheek though - she purposely kisses my scars. She told me that her late husband had the same scars as me, and that she kissed him that way to make sure he knew she loved all of how he looked, including the scars, not in spite of them. Jackie-boy, I haven't had a woman who isn't associated with the club tell me I'm handsome since Jimmy O did this to me. I can't let that slip through my fingers."

Jax smiled at him and then shook his head. "No, brother, you can't. You need anything, you just tell me."

Go dté tú slán, a ghrá – may you go safely, my love

Slán go fóill, a chuisle mo chroí – goodbye for now, pulse of my heart