The ride back up to Rogue River from Stockton is decidedly different than the opposite had been much earlier this morning. Then, they'd both been a little nervous and a lot eager to see Opie. As such, Ope had seemed to loom large in the spacious interior of the Cutlass, practically drowning out Tara's lingering thoughts about last night.
On the ride back, so far, she'd found herself much like she had the night before- with her heart and her head tugging her in two completely different directions. It's an unwelcome sensation for sure- and one she'd tried to stave off by burying her head in her Biology textbook even though they won't start a new unit until Tuesday. Jax had taken one look at the thick book she'd unearthed from her bag- along with four different colored highlighters- and shaken his head affectionately, then returned his attention to the road.
Unfortunately, though, her mind had refused to focus on cell structures- and she'd found herself unable to do much more than stare as the words seemed to melt together on the page. And that, combined with Jax's relative silence, had left far too much room for fragments of her earlier conversation with Opie to work their way in- and the almost incessant questions that followed.
Just like he had during her first visit to Stockton months ago, Ope had wanted to know what was so goddamn important that it was keeping them from falling back together now. And then, Tara had looked one of her oldest friends in the eye and told him the simple truth- the source of the dread that crept its way in almost every time they're apart and even some times they're together: she just doesn't know how to trust him with her heart again.
Opie's response, however, had been even more simple.
"He loves you, Tara." He'd cut off her protest with a hand. "I know he fucked up and I know you had to go when you did- I'm not sayin' that. But he loves you- any idiot can see that."
It's what her heart had been telling her for weeks, now- probably since Jax had shown up on her doorstep. And she has to admit, she's certainly been a lot happier since she started listening to it. Her head, too, has been giving in on occasion- and more and more since she'd started noticing the changes in him these last few weeks.
But while it's been easy enough to let go and just enjoy the time she has with him, isn't that how they'd gotten here? By letting what they want overshadow what they need? And so, she'd found herself unable to rationalize letting the connection she knows is still there take over- at least when she's not lying side by side with Jax- and, unfortunately, unable to explain it to Opie.
"I know that, Opie… I do. God, I want to be with him, you know I do. And I want to trust him- so much. But I just… I don't know, I can't. At least not yet. And I don't know how we get back there."
"And I get that. Believe me. But…" Opie had smiled, sadly. "Tomorrow ain't always guaranteed, you know? The two of you, you got a real shot to make this work, but that might not always be the case." He'd shrugged, then, almost as if he'd heard all the things she hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him about his best friend.
"Look, I know you got to trust before you're all in, and you've been burned enough times by people you love- including Jax- to make this all harder than it should be. You need a minute, and that's fair. But it ain't like you're gonna wake up one day and know this is it- you're gonna have to make a decision at some point, Tara. And if you don't know what it's gonna take for you to let him back in… Well, you better start prayin' for somethin' to get you there, because he ain't gonna wait forever."
"I… I just don't know where to start." She'd just shrugged, helplessly, the smile she'd pasted on betrayed by the tears in her eyes. And Opie had known exactly what to say.
"You love him and he loves you. Start there."
Then, he'd leaned across the table and whispered, conspiritorially. "But for now… Tell me- did the door hit Jax's big head when you slammed it in his face?"
Thankfully, it had been enough to have them laughing by the time Jax reached the table a few moments later. But Opie's words had lingered just as she's sure he meant them to.
They'd walked out of Stockton State Prison much the way they'd walked in, but not quite- with hands linked but without the singular purpose of the morning. As a result, all the little things Tara hadn't had time to dwell on in the morning had begun to crop up, starting a mere five minutes into their journey when Jax turned the Cutlass north, toward the freeway and Oregon border instead of west and the familiar Old 88 toward Charming.
For the first time, it had hit her just how close they were to what had once been home- just a few turns and about 30 miles, and they'd have been rolling past the "Welcome to Charming" sign. And for a moment, that pull- of the place she'd done some of her most important growing up, of the friends she owes far more than an occasional phone call, of the only family she'd known since her aunt's death- had been too strong to ignore.
Almost as if he'd sensed the direction her mind was churning as he navigated the car through the edges of Stockton proper, Jax had glanced over, an odd expression on his face. He'd reached over to gently extract her left hand- she hadn't even realized she'd been twisting them together in her lap- and had dropped a gentle kiss on its palm. Then, he'd released her to grasp the knob of the gearstick, shifted into third, and steered the Cutlass onto the I-5 North on-ramp.
From there, she'd had nothing but time and a seemingly endless highway ahead of her- that and a textbook that had lost its appeal mere moments after she'd opened it. So, as they'd begun retracing their path from earlier this morning, she'd been unable to stop the carousel of questions constantly rotating through her mind.
What is it going to take to really trust him again, and how the hell is anyone supposed to know when it happens? Christ, what if it never does? Is this even fair to him? Shouldn't we just let ourselves be happy? God, what if we can't? And what if we already are?
It's that last question that's still tugging at the back of Tara's mind as she drags her eyes from the diagram on the page to focus on the subject of all her thoughts.
Jax is sitting ramrod-straight behind the oversized steering wheel- a stark contrast to the way he does everything else. Not that she's seen him drive a car all that often, until recently, but he's usually slouched back into the seat, one hand casually draped over the wheel and the other tangled with hers. His hands- resolutely, she pushes away thoughts of those hands skimming down her belly just last night- are firmly on the wheel, his fingers flexing around it once, twice, a third time before she moves on up his body to the familiar lines of his face.
She's a little ashamed, but maybe not as much as she should have been, when her breath actually catches at the sight of his profile against the pinks and purples of the fading sunset. But when had he been any less than singularly appealing to her, almost since the moment she'd returned to Charming? Even through the constant turmoil his presence in Tacoma had brought her?
His brow is furrowed slightly, but his long, pale lashes rarely graze it in a blink, he's so focused on the road ahead. The straight line of his nose gives way to the full lips below, then the defined jawline she can see is clenching even now, then unclenching and clenching again in repeated succession. And despite the tension rolling off him and the uncertainty that's been plaguing her the whole drive so far, she just can't help it- how drawn she is to him even now.
It's an odd time to realize they'll never really be over, no matter how quickly this mess rectifies itself and no matter what happens between them in the coming days, weeks, and months… But it's true all the same. She knows with a certainty, in this moment, that she'll always feel this pull towards him, the very same pull he'd scoffed at her for trying to ignore that first morning in her apartment. And suddenly, even though all her questions remain, the distance between them, on opposite sides of the Cutlass, no longer seems insurmountable.
Tentatively, she reaches towards him, though it's a stretch with her seatbelt still on, resting her fingers on his forearm. She has only a moment to linger on the shifting muscles just beneath his skin as he flexes his fingers once again- and then those brilliant blue eyes are on hers, drowning out everything but the Sundays pouring out of the radio.
"Childhood living, is easy to do…"
"You good, Babe?" she barely hears him say, over the combination of the music and the rushing of the blood in her ears. But the crooked grin he has for her is so at odds with the waves of tension she'd just watched him exude that she can't help but respond with, simply,
"I'm fine." More or less. But that isn't what's important here. "You okay?" Jax shrugs, the movement drawing some of the stiffness out of his arms- including the one her hand is still resting on.
"Just need a cigarette, I guess. Ain't had one since the parking lot right before we went in." His voice turns sheepish. "I wasn't thinkin' when we stopped for gas earlier."
Oh.
"Well, we could stop at the next rest stop," Tara offers, a bit feebly. She knows he'd never ask to light up in the Cutlass- and she'd never let him- but she needs to feel like she's doing something to help, even if it's something he very well could have done miles ago if he'd really needed or wanted to. But his eyes crinkle as he glances over at her again, the smile finally reaching his eyes in the most endearing way.
"Naw, Babe. I just wanna get back, if that's okay with you?" The question in his voice is one he doesn't need to ask, for more reasons than one. She can feel the smile touching her lips moments before his eyes alight there, and suddenly, she's done trying to make sense of things- at least for now.
Jax disengages his hand from the steering wheel and reaches for hers, but she pulls back. The flicker of hurt that crosses his face doesn't have time to catch before she's doing him one better, unbuckling her seatbelt and sliding across the bench seat towards him. The mild surprise that follows is lost to the road ahead as he smiles and settles lower into the seat.
Then, her head is resting on his thigh, warm and solid. His free hand drifts down, as if he can't resist touching her even as she touches him, and she wants to sigh in pleasure as he threads his fingers through her hair.
You love him and he loves you. Start there.
Of all Opie's words, it's these precious few that finally allow her to close her eyes, focus on the soft drag of his fingers against her scalp, the heavy weight of his palm on her crown, and the music pouring out of the radio instead of the tumultuous thoughts of the previous few hours.
"And wild horses, couldn't drag me away…"
Like the ride, the Rogue River clubhouse is a stark contrast to the way it had been when they'd left it early this morning. What had been a sprawling, dark, empty space that had Tara almost afraid to speak, lest her voice echo in the corners and wake one of the brothers she knew slept down the hallway beyond, is now bright, loud, and full to bursting. More accurately, the place is packed wall-to-wall with black leather- and almost as much black lace.
Standing just inside the front door, her hand firmly locked in Jax's, Tara can't help but spare a glance down at her attire- an action she probably hadn't bothered with since she'd gone to that frat party with Sarah. Definitely not for the last couple years she'd spent attending parties with SAMCRO. Her jeans, strategically ripped and tight in all the right places, her black tank with the deep vee, and Jax's blue flannel shirt, tied at her midriff, are far more Alanis Morissette than Courtney Love- the latter of which seems to have inspired the crowds of club girls and old ladies currently filling the tables near the bar.
But whether it's Jax's hand leaving hers to snake around her waist and draw her firmly into his side- or the conspicuous absence of the matriarch, lurking behind the bar and forming opinions about what, exactly, the old lady of SAMCRO's heir apparent should wear- she realizes there's been some growth since those days because she simply doesn't give a shit.
"You ready?"
Jax's words, murmured near her ear, are almost lost in the steady din created by so many voices talking, laughing, singing- not to mention the music pumping out of the speakers. But she nods just the same, and it's with a brief kiss to her temple that he finally moves, guiding her towards the bar beyond.
They're stopped more than a few times in the short distance between the door and the bar- mostly by Rogue River patches who briefly halt their own revelry to shout Jax's name, hold up a glass, or slap hands. And as Tara watches, he gives each one of them their due, stopping in his tracks to share a grin, a joke, or even trade a few barbs- but they're always laughing when he's done.
He's gotten pretty damn good at this since the last time she'd been at a SAMCRO function with him, she realizes- making small talk, rubbing elbows with men much more formidable than himself and inspiring their confidence. The fourth or fifth time it happens, she finds herself musing idly, about how he'd thrive, how he'd look, in a different setting- schmoozing with businessmen or politicians instead of bikers and hangarounds.
But as he slaps hands with a grizzled patch who asks him to send his old man his best, it occurs to her that he seems to have been born to win people over, regardless of whether they were wearing a kutte. And, she thinks, as Jax readily agrees and a broad grin settles on the patch's face, that's exactly what had happened.
"A'ight, man," Jax is saying now, even as he squeezes her hip. "I gotta go get my girl somethin' to drink." Nodding, the patch winks at her before turning back to his own… whoever she is- a tall brunette about Gemma's age wearing the hell out of a leather bustier.
They manage to make it to the bar without being waylaid, and Tara recognizes two of the girls behind the bar as the two who had been here the night before. She flushes, remembering her reaction to the way the one- Honey, her mind supplies- had acted around Jax, and how she'd bristled at his calling her by what had turned out to be no more than her name.
God… maybe it really had just been a reflex to what she'd come to expect in Charming, even years into their relationship.
But as Honey's eyes land on them- on Jax- the familiar flare of interest in her eyes isn't imagined. The way her lips- which had been pursed, disinterested, as she served a beer to the Rogue River patch in front of her- curve into a smile that's already tilting towards seductive, is clear as day, as far as Tara's concerned. But she has only a moment for her irritation to grow- and Honey only takes a step or two towards them- before Jax's hands are grasping her hips, turning her to face him.
His arms are braced on the bar on either side of her, effectively caging her in, his eyes dancing, knowing, as he studies her for a brief moment. Then, he's pressing close, his hands leaving the bar to skim up her sides, grazing her breasts, her shoulders, before framing her face and slanting his mouth across hers.
The kiss is intense almost immediately, where most of their recent ones had been slow, almost hesitant- demanding instead of lingering, heady instead of sweet. The lights, the people, the noise in the room seem to fade away until all there is, is them. His soft, hot lips open over her own, his tongue swirling with hers with a dizzying force she'd forgotten she needed until just now.
It ends before she's ready, really- but he punctuates it with a teasing graze of her bottom lip with his teeth before he drags his mouth to her ear once again, littering her cheekbone and temple with the wetness of his lips along the way.
"I always thought you were sweeter than any honey…" he breathes into her ear. And she barely has a moment to recover from the shivers the unadulterated lust in his voice has sent rolling down her spine when he crowds her a little closer to the bar. Then he's calling out over her shoulder even as his fingers spread wide on the spot she'd inked just for him.
"Two beers for me and my girl. Shot of Jack too, uh… Honey."
And Tara can't help but laugh- maybe partially in embarrassment, but also because it just feels so right, to be here with him- burying her face in the warm spot between his leather and his chest. His hand presses a bit more firmly on her shaking shoulders for a brief moment before his lips are back.
"You still my girl, then?" And her mind hasn't yet formulated a response when he's clearing his throat. "Drinks're here, Babe."
Though she's reluctant- both to leave that safe, sheltered space in Jax's arms and to face Honey for some odd reason- she knows that logically speaking, they can't stand here, lost in each other, forever. And so she takes a moment, fixes her face, and turns toward the bar- where a pair of beers and a couple of shot glasses are waiting. So is Honey, for that matter, but as Jax reaches past her to pick up his beer, Tara finds her voice.
"Thanks, darlin'. The name is Tara, by the way."
Honey doesn't answer, just rolls her eyes and turns away from them to attend to one of the other bikers pushed up against the bar.
"Darlin'?" Jax's voice comes from somewhere above her, and now it's Tara's turn to roll her eyes and reach for the two shot glasses. She holds one up, unable to keep the smirk from twisting her lips as she turns to find his amused eyes.
"Shut up and drink your whiskey, Teller."
Jax grins, broadly, leaning casually against the bar next to her and taking the proffered shot glass. He raises it, biting his lip in what Tara can only guess is suppressed mirth.
"Here's to lyin', cheatin', fightin', and stealin'-"
"Jax!" She chides, smacking him on the shoulder, "I am not toasting to that."
"You didn't let me finish!" Jax protests, chuckling and raising his glass even higher. "It's a toast to lyin' in bed with the ones we love, cheatin' death with help from the man above, fightin' all the things that would tear us apart-" he pauses, dramatically, leaning just that bit closer. "And here's to the girl who stole my heart."
His smile is infectious, his eyes honest and true- and she finds as they both tilt back their shot glasses, down the liquor inside, and plunk them on the bartop that she just can't help holding his gaze the entire time. Then, he's chuckling, swiping at his mouth with the back of a hand, and pressing a kiss to her lips before turning to survey the party behind them.
The pleasant burn had started long before the final dregs of whiskey were forgotten on the bartop, but as Jax wraps his arm around her to guide her away from the bar, the contact seems to ignite it all over again. Tendrils of heat begin curling their way through her very veins until she's warm and tingling all over.
Damn.
It's been a while since the last time she'd had more than a few beers- and even longer since she'd drank whiskey. But what should maybe be a red flag, a warning to take it easy on the liquor and focus on the important shit right in front of her- like associating with not only bikers but a pack of their women, who were in her experience far from easy to handle- instead does just the opposite.
It's like she can feel the moment when her brief annoyance with Honey, the slight trepidation she'd felt in the Cutlass at the prospect of interacting with the women of Rogue River, the uneasiness she'd felt at stepping back into this world- all of it… just slips away.
Somehow, with the whiskey working its way through her body, Jax by her side, and free from the watchful eye of his mother, she feels like she can do anything. Be anyone, especially if that means she's just Tara instead of the princess to Jax's prince, the future queen to Jax's future king. And for the first time in a long time, as they make their way through the crowd and towards a group of women seated around a high-top table nestled in the corner, she doesn't feel like she's got something to prove.
"Hey, sweetheart," one of the women calls out over the din as they approach. It's an endearment obviously meant for Jax, who responds immediately, squeezing Tara's side as he does.
"Hey, Mrs. Gibbs," comes the easy reply- and the table immediately erupts into raucous laughter.
"Jesus Christ," laughs one of the women, an older version of the Courtney Love lookalikes Tara had noticed when they'd first walked in, complete with tousled blonde hair and an edgy leather-and-mesh top Tara had seen on croweaters half her age. "I don't think I've heard anyone call you Mrs. Gibbs since your goddamn wedding day." The blonde, still chortling, twists in her seat to gesture at Jax with her lit cigarette. "But you're cute, so I'm sure she'll give ya a pass."
"Yeah, cute- but jailbait for your old ass," the brunette next to her snorts, jabbing her in the arm with a well-placed elbow. "Hell, I got lipsticks older than him!" The other women burst into another round of laughter as Jax shakes his head, chuckling good-naturedly.
"Alright, alright, ease up, ladies," the one Jax had called Mrs. Gibbs is saying, holding up her hands and smiling, "It isn't every day we get VIPs." And, as if on command- actually, that's exactly what it is- the entire table quiets and Tara finally makes the connection. Jax had referred to the Rogue River president as Gibbs, so this Mrs. Gibbs must be his old lady- essentially the Rogue River version of Gemma.
She's gorgeous, Tara realizes as the woman slides off her seat and makes her way around the table towards them. She's about Gemma's age or maybe a few years younger,with natural waves of auburn hair lightly framing dark blue eyes. Unlike most of the other women in the room, her soft makeup compliments a gently angled face that's been allowed to age gracefully and she's dressed fairly casually, in a white fitted tee and denim vest.
As she reaches up to capture Jax's face and plant a kiss on each of his cheeks, Tara notices the absolute monster of a diamond in a tasteful silver setting on her left hand. Apparently, it's good to be the Queen. Mrs. Gibbs takes a step back and addresses the table of women at large.
"Not sure if y'all remember, but Jax here is the one of the prospects who helped us out of that sticky situation last year." As recognition dawns on a few faces around the table and nods of respect on the others, she turns back towards Jax, effectively ignoring the group once again."You know Joe and I… we can't thank you enough."
Jax opens his mouth, and Tara can tell he's getting ready to shrug it off, offer her one of the familiar platitudes she knows are expected from club members- Naw, it was nothin'- but he closes it when Mrs. Gibbs pins him with a sharp look.
"Anything you need, anytime, you hear me?" She waits for him to nod, sheepishly, before turning her attention to Tara.
"And this must be Tara." Tara blinks, nonplussed for a moment that this woman knows her name- which Mrs. Gibbs evidently picks up on because she's continuing with a grin. "Heard your name more times than I could count, that weekend- mostly from Jax here, but from half the officers, too."
The significance of the weekend in question- the weekend Jax and Opie had been asked to make some emergency dropoff and had saved the day, so to speak- hadn't been lost on her before. Whatever had gone down had hit Jax hard, and the way the Rogue River guys and Mrs. Gibbs herself treating Jax, almost like a returning celebrity, is pretty obvious.
But it isn't until now that the other half of that same weekend- her and Donna's trip to San Diego without the boys, and Piney, JT, Jax, and Opie's protective exasperation when they'd forgotten to page them to check in- comes rushing back.
"Yeah, I guess we had them a little worried," Tara responds, glancing up at Jax, whose facial expression immediately shifts into that's a fuckin' understatement territory.
And then, she's being pulled into a brief hug before Mrs. Gibbs steps back, holding her hands and looking her up and down, assessing her- not unlike Gemma. But her eyes are kind, sparkling with mischief instead of judgment, when she seems to arrive at a conclusion..
"Well, she's every bit as beautiful as you said she was," she says, conspiratorially, winking at Jax before returning her gaze to Tara. "Name's Jenn- don't let Jax here convince you I need to be treated like some school teacher."
"I-"
"Jenn," she interrupts Jax firmly, not even glancing his way, this time. "Nice to finally meet you, Tara."
"Nice to meet you, too," Tara returns- and, she finds that it truly is. Immediately friendly, warm, and genuine, Jenn's already providing a stark contrast to the only other charter president's wife she really knows, and she can't help but relax just a tiny bit more.
"Hey, Teller!" Suddenly, a rather formidable patched brother appears at Jax's other hip, smelling of whiskey and cigars and squeezing him on the shoulder. He's already laughing, but is forced to lean closer and shout in Jax's ear over the din. "'Roe just got in, c'mon over here and tell him what you told me about our new prospect."
"Leave the boy be, Joe. I was just introducing him and Tara here to-"
"Ah, so this is the lovely Tara," Joe- who Tara quickly surmises is Mrs. Gibbs, Jenn's, other half, a conclusion proven by the President patch affixed prominently to his kutte- booms. Then, he's grinning and clapping Jax on the back. "I can see why you're always so eager to get back to 'er." And to Tara- "Nice to meet ya, darlin'- but I gotta borrow your old man here for a little bit."
"Oh for God's sake, Joe-" Grinning, Gibbs leans in and plants a kiss on his old lady's lips, effectively silencing her protest.
"He'll be right back. 'Sides, I'm sure you ladies got some shit to catch up on. I'll have the girls bring ya another round." He's whistling, sharply, towards the bar before Tara realizes what's happening- and Jax is suddenly in her line of vision, hesitation and amusement mingling on his handsome features.
"You okay for a minute, Babe?" he asks, blue eyes burning into hers. And she finds, to her mild surprise, that she is. Nodding up at him, Tara lifts onto her toes to brush her lips against his- and he grins and frames her face in that way he always does, before miming another kiss.
Then, his "A'ight, have fun," is muffled a bit as Gibbs slings a meaty arm around his shoulders and practically drags him towards a large knot of patches in the middle of the clubhouse.
"Alright, ladies, make room, make room," Jenn is saying, edging past a younger couple making out against the wall at the end of the nearby pool table to seize one of the stools they'd apparently abandoned. She drags it back over to the table and waits, expectantly, as the other four women shift in their chairs just enough to free a space- thankfully, right next to her empty chair.
Tara breathes a small sigh of relief as Jenn slides back into her own seat and pats the stool. She waits once again as Tara settles, gingerly, onto the cracked leather and rests her half-full beer on the table before addressing the table again.
"Like Jax said earlier, this is Tara. Tara, this is Lisa-" she indicates the tanned brunette about her age who had made the crack about lipstick, earlier, "-Courtney-" the older blonde who'd called Jax cute waggles a set of blood-red fingernails and Tara can barely conceal her snort as her internal monologue becomes a reality, "-and Denise-" the blonde on the other side of Courtney raises a glass of something brown.
"Lisa's the VP's old lady and Courtney and Denise have been with club officers longer than you've probably been alive. Then there's Kim-" a younger blonde who looks about Angela's age waves cheerily, "-and Nicole-" a heavily made-up brunette who could be Gemma's much-younger sister raises a lofty brow, looking supremely bored. "They're with two of our other members who you probably haven't met. And everyone else-" Jenn raises a hand to indicate the rest of the clubhouse at large, "-is either a club girl, dating a hangaround, or their guy hasn't mustered up the balls to introduce her to us yet."
Tara can't help but smile- apparently, being a little afraid of the President's female counterpart is about par for the course for the Sons of Anarchy. And her response seems to slip out before she can stop it- God, maybe it's the whiskey talking.
"I don't blame them- most of those girls'd probably get eaten alive."
The resulting laughter has barely died down when Honey arrives with a tray full of drinks. She has a tight smile for Tara- and a pleasant grin for everyone else- as she dutifully places another beer next to the half-full one that's been sitting, forgotten, on the table since she sat down. Effectively suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Tara grabs the beer and drains it as Honey doles out what looks like a round of whiskey shots.
"Take this with you, will ya, Honey?" Tara pipes up, catching Honey's attention just before she turns away from the table. And it's only after a glance around the table- at the chapter's most prominent women- that Honey gives her a curt nod and practically snatches the bottle before turning away and disappearing into the crowd.
"So what's the newest gossip in Charming?" Lisa's asking, taking a pull of her own beer. Thankful, for once, that she well and truly has no idea what the hell is- or isn't- going on back at the SAMCRO clubhouse, Tara takes a moment to survey the group of interested faces. Hell, even Nicole or whatever her name is stops examining her nails, and Tara laughs softly before disappointing them all.
"Actually, I'm not living in Charming at the moment. I'm, uh, at school in Tacoma. College, I mean." Instinctively, she braces herself for the responses she's used to from women associated with the club- skepticism, snickering, even flat-out derision. But to her surprise, nobody seems shocked or horrified. Instead, Lisa just nods in understanding.
"That's nice, sweetie. At least some of us got to have a career that don't involve the pole-" she elbows Courtney again, who flips Lisa off before grinning at Tara.
"Don't let her fool you, baby- I'm the only one at this table ever mastered the art of not only sliding down a pole, but doing it with skill. Plus I make more money in a night than the rest of these bitches do in a week- and they all know it." Laughter, again, as Courtney lights a cigarette and points it in Jenn's direction. "Now, Jenn, she's been to college. Kim too, though she got knocked up 'fore she could finish." Now Kim's the one holding up a middle finger- though she's laughing, too.
"College- now that was a trip." Jenn says, reaching for her glass and taking a sip. "'Course, it was different in the 70s than it is now- not many women in business school back then, at least not over at Southern Oregon." She grins, wickedly. "Means I got my pick of the men, though."
"Joe went to business school?" Kim interjects, her mouth dropping open. Again, the women dissolve into laughter, including Jenn.
"Baby, you couldn't have paid that man a million dollars to define the term lecture hall, let alone set foot in one. I met him a few years later. But what Joe learned about running the business, you can't learn in a classroom." She smirks, then. "And what I learned about running a business in the classroom would've taken him twice as long to fumble through by trial and error. It's why we work, me and Joe."
And the fondness in her voice tells Tara at once that Jenn's talking about more than just the club's official enterprise, which Jax had mentioned on the drive up was a cluster of campgrounds and cabin rentals along the Rogue. No, she means that those differences, the varying shades of gray between the Rogue River president and his old lady, are a part of what makes them work, together.
God, it's what Tara wants for herself and Jax- what she has wanted since they were navigating CHS together instead of the Sons of Anarchy and UW. Their differences- the way he's outgoing when she's reserved, the way she's cautious when he's flying off the handle- can make them stronger, better together than they are apart.
If only you could get it together… the voice whispers before Tara pushes it away.
"Yeah, yeah, you both got brains," Courtney's saying, waving her hand. "Thankfully, my brain led me to a great paying job I didn't have to sit in some classroom for ten years to get."
"Sweetie, I think that was your tits," Lisa cracks, and Courtney flips her off again before turning to address Tara.
"What's your brain got you doin', hon?"
"She means what's your major?" Kim pipes up from across the table, and Courtney shoots her a dry look.
"Oh, um… I'm a Biology major. Lots of labs and science classes-"
"So what, you like, cut apart animals and study their insides and shit?" Nicole speaks up for the first time, the look on her face landing somewhere between disgust and fascination.
"Um, there are dissection labs sometimes, I guess. But it's mostly-"
"Then it sounds like you can run the meat department over at the Safeway when you get done." Nicole snorts, examining her nails. And it sounds so much like something the bitches at Charming High would've said that Tara's taken right back there for just a moment.
"Yeah, maybe. But I'll probably just go to medical school instead." She can't help the words any more than the sickly sweet smile she shoots across the table. And she has only a moment to watch Nicole's mouth drop open before the other women are adding to the ruckus of the party around them.
"A doctor?"
"Damn, girl!"
"Whaaaat!?"
Courtney's whoop is louder by half than any of the comments that had come along with it. But it's Jenn, sitting back and eyeing her with an odd approval, whose voice seems to cut through the din.
"And just when I was thinking you couldn't be less like Gem…" Before Tara can wonder what, exactly, that means, Jenn's leaning forward to pick up her shot glass. "This calls for a toast!" The rest of the women follow Jenn's lead, and Tara, too, is quick to comply. "To brains, beauty, and not needing a man to handle your shit- but making sure he handles his all the same!"
And that's something, Tara thinks, everyone at the table can toast to.
Two hours and at least three shots and- shit, who knows how many beers- later, the crowd has thinned out. In fact, both what's apparently the unofficial "old lady table" and in the clubhouse in general are dwindling in number. Only Jenn, Kim, and Courtney remain, and the clusters of non-patched hangarounds and other club associates have slowly but steadily trickled out the double doors.
Even the live band is taking a break, and Tara's drifting along to the strains of Creedence Clearwater Revival emanating from the speaker overhead as Jenn and Courtney reminisce about the annual trips to Sturgis the club had apparently made in the 80s.
It's an even stranger mix of familiar and unfamiliar than before- the music, the crowd, the easy conversation, the pleasant haze of too much whiskey mingling with the literal haze provided by the cigarette and weed smoke. Most of all, it's the simple pleasure of talking to these women without anyone expecting her to act a certain way, dress a certain way, be a certain way befitting of the old lady of SAMCRO's heir apparent.
Hell, it's even the way they had casually discussed work, men, kids, but especially college, like these were all completely normal things for women to do. And they are, Tara reminds herself, fiercely, no matter what Gemma says. It has her feeling both at home here and also like she's landed in some sort of strange, alternate-universe version of the SAMCRO clubhouse.
But the more she drinks, laughs, and chats with the women of Rogue River, the more her mind's settling firmly on one word: easy.
Jax himself is at ease, too, Tara had realized as the night went on and Jax's 'couple minutes' had turned into a couple hours. Though, it hadn't been completely his fault. He'd done his best and had approached the table a few times under the guise of bringing her another drink, though Tara knew it was to check in and make sure she was okay on her own among these unfamiliar women.
But after the third time he'd appeared to hand her a beer and drop a kiss on her cheek, Jenn had shooed him away so she could finish spinning a yarn about how the sergeant-at-arms' ex-old-lady had once caught him with a club girl and set his bike on fire.
And after that, she'd watched off and on over the intervening hours as he shook hands, slapped shoulders, played pool, drank beers, and exchanged jokes with every patch in the place. Somehow, he seems both fully himself without the shadow of the gavel hanging over his head, and someone else entirely without Opie there by his side as he always had been in Charming.
He'd caught her watching a couple times- just as she'd begun letting the absence of Opie, Donna, Angela, Kozik, and even Gemma- bleed into the blurry edges of her consciousness. And each time, as if he'd known what had been on her mind, he'd sent her that familiar jerk of his chin and wink that had always made her mind empty of everything but him.
Now, just because she can after so many months apart, Tara takes the luxury of searching the crowd for him again. It takes mere moments to find him, even among the crowd that still roams the clubhouse. He's standing in a small cluster of men near one of the pool tables, one thumb hanging from a belt loop, a beer bottle poised at his lips. And this time, he's watching her right back, his eyes locking on hers through the smoky chaos of the party.
Tara can't help the sly smile that creeps onto her lips any more than she guesses he can the smirk on his- and she finds she simply has to hold his gaze as she silently lifts her own glass and tilts the rest of the liquid into her mouth. She finishes first, and watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallows the remaining dregs has her blushing and feeling envious of a goddamn beer bottle.
"You all staying in the back room tonight, sweetheart?" Jenn's saying, jolting Tara out of her thoughts. More reluctantly than she'd like to admit,, she drags her eyes away from Jax, who has, by now, leaned over to say something to the man next to him.
"Yeah," Tara answers, turning to shoot Jenn a thankful smile, and noticing what she hopes is a brief moment too late, that both Courtney and Kim have left the table. "And thank you for that, by the way. It's a long drive down to Cali and back, especially in a weekend- so it's been great to have a place to stay to break it up."
"Glad to help- it's what we do. Quite literally, as a matter of fact." Jenn's voice turns conspiratorial. "But next time, forget letting the men handle things and leave the accommodations to me, okay? The club owns the majority of the campgrounds and cabin spaces this side of the Rogue, so there's no sense in the two of you cramming yourselves into a single bed meant for a prospect if I can get you a whole cabin for the night." She eyes Tara with amusement. "'Course, some of the best nights Joe and I ever had didn't involve a bed at all."
Tara chuckles softly.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Well…" Jenn says, stretching, "I should go remind Joe we have a sitter at home. Want me to let Jax know it's safe to come back over here?"
"That would be nice, thank you." At this, Jenn smiles and slides off her stool once again.
"Don't forget, I'm doin' that breakfast tomorrow morning- I'll see you both there." It's not a question but a statement, and she waits until Tara nods before patting her on the shoulder. And then she's gone, skimming behind Tara's chair and out into the clubhouse beyond.
Tara watches her go. Certain, in this moment, that if she were sober, she'd be flooded with a rush of thoughts about the differences between Jenn and Gemma, the fact that she'd enjoyed her first SOA party without Opie, Donna, and the rest, and at the same time had missed them fiercely… And, for once, she's happy she isn't. Sober, that is.
As if to prove the fuzzy point she'd just made to herself, Tara pushes away from her perch on the bar stool and slides forward until her toes touch the floor. It seems to move, pleasantly, beneath her feet, and she rests a palm on the table in hopes of regaining her balance. Yeah, definitely past tipsy at this point, she thinks with some amusement- and she's thisclose to lifting herself back into the safety of the chair to wait for Jax when she feels a pair of steadying hands on her hips.
"You ready?" Jax murmurs into her ear, just like he'd done when they'd first arrived at the party tonight. This time, though, she's not sure what has the warmth sluicing through her veins. Whether it's the alcohol, the knowledge that he's asking her if she's ready to go to bed with him, or the way this exact situation had played out a hundred times before in their previous life in Charming…
She just knows his voice is low, thick, and full of promise, his hands on her are everything she'd been missing all night, and she's not near sober enough to think about it any further.
The slow smile blooms on her lips even as his hover near her ear, and she finds she just has to turn in his arms to look at him once again. She finds him flushed, his cheeks ruddy, whether from the heat of the room, the alcohol, or both. A day's worth of stubble is scattered across the strong lines of his jaw and the soft skin above, and his full lips are parted; as she watches, he wets them with his tongue, his eyes darkening behind his thick, blonde lashes. And at once, it's nothing to reach up to tangle her fingers into the soft hair at his neck, easier than it should be to raise up onto her tiptoes and press her lips to his.
Jax's breath rushes out like he'd been holding it, waiting for something, or for her- or maybe he's just surprised. But he backs her against the table itself, his body the firm anchor she needs to remain steady on her feet. And then, she's swaying again anyway because of the way he's kissing her- his hands buried in her hair, clutching at the roots like he'll never let her go, his head angling to the side so he can cover her mouth with his, his lips and tongue stealing her breath and her inhibitions right along with them.
When he finally drags his mouth away from hers, it's only to scatter kisses along her jawline and up her cheek until his lips are at her ear once more.
"Let's get you to bed, Babe."
He's waiting for your response, Tara thinks, dreamily, though she can't quite bring herself to form words. His warm breath curls around her temple, but he's otherwise motionless until she nods, her cheekbone rubbing against the stubble dotting his jawline. Then, he's in motion, once again pulling her into her side- which is a good fucking thing, thinks, idly, since she's not at all sure where her feet would have taken her otherwise.
She's practically floating as they turn towards the back hallway and plunge into its darker recesses. The people, the music, the noise, it all fades away until there's only him, the solid planes of his body pressed against hers seeming to infuse itself into her very being, his arm burning a firebrand across her back and around to her hip, his lips setting off fireworks somewhere within as he presses a kiss to her temple, her lips…
God, she's drunk on the sensation his mouth is creating within her just as much as the whiskey she can taste on his tongue. Like she's floating through the darkness tethered only by the warmth rolling off him, until his lips leave hers and her back presses against a solid surface. Which, she doesn't much care.
All she knows is that when her body stops moving, the rest of her- her head, her heart, those parts of her only Jax has ever been able to touch- keep drifting toward the bed somewhere on the other side of the wall, towards home. And then he's there, solid, real, everything- anchoring her in place with his body, breathing nonsense against her lips.
Not nonsense, she realizes, dreamily, as his whispered words connect, one by one. But they cease to matter again as his mouth finds hers, one hand grazing the underside of her chin, the other disappearing from her hip and reaching, reaching... Her own hands are drifting, from his waist, on up the soft leather of his kutte and around his neck- when suddenly the world gives way and they're tumbling backwards into space.
Her senses are focused on how she's falling into an abyss she welcomes- and it all seems to happen in a moment suspended in time. Heartbeat thumping, lips parting, breath catching- then stomach swooping as she's suddenly pulled up, up, up… Until she's cradled in the arms of the one person she'd ever trusted with her body, not to mention her heart.
Jax's eyes find hers, like black diamonds in the darkness, their light almost instantly snuffed out as he dips his head once more. The moment their lips touch, he's stepping forward, kicking the door shut, then striding toward the one thing she remembers about the room from the night before- the bed.
The springs chime as he drops their full weight onto it, forcing their lips to part with a soft smack. Then, he's pulling her closer, now sitting across his lap, and tangling his hands into her hair so he can guide her mouth back to his. It's hot, and wet, and rugged- and maybe even a bit violent- but it's what she's needed probably since she'd left him in Charming and long before he'd kissed her in the bar earlier, because it's just for them.
And before long, the kiss blurs outside of the confines of their mouths, his lips finding her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and that sensitive place where her shoulder begins- hers exploring the underside of his jaw, his collarbone, and all the warm places in between.
Jax sets his teeth to that sensitive notch between her neck and her shoulder, and she smiles against his skin, licking a hot stripe up to the place she knows his pulse thrums for her and drawing it into her mouth. Like she wishes she could take him into her, forever, take him everywhere she goes that he can't- or won't- follow.
He groans at the gentle suction, a sound that roughens when she, too, grazes skin with teeth. And then he's jerking away, grabbing her hips to settle her more securely against him, hands skimming down one leg and the other to guide them around his waist. That accomplished, he leans back on both hands, just far enough for his beautiful face to come almost fully into focus.
And where once, he'd have done so himself, or delivered an insolent smirk and an order to take your shirt off… he blinks, slowly, as if he can't believe she's here with him. When his voice finally comes, it's soft, strained.
"Babe… can I? Can I see you?" And all Tara can do is nod, silently, transfixed by the sincerity, the love, in his eyes. He swallows, loudly, just like he had the first time they'd done this, and for a moment, Tara's transported back there, to that night in SAMCRO's cabin.
Once again, she's sitting astride him, her most sensitive spot- the one that's practically weeping for him, throbbing for more- pressed firmly against the hard, hot ridge of him. Maybe he remembers, too, because his hips strain against her just as they had then, sending sizzling sparks rushing through her as she grips the hem of her tank.
Despite the experience they've accumulated over years together and countless hours learning one another, her fingers are clumsy, fumbling like they weren't back then. Maybe it's the alcohol- or maybe it's the fact that it feels like the first time all over again.
And then her shirt is gone, floating in the dark behind her to land soundlessly somewhere she doesn't care to imagine, and every cell in her body is drawing her forward, towards Jax.
His hands are shaking, she marvels, somewhere in the still-rational part of her mind, though he steadies them as he trails his fingers, feather-light, up her sides and back down, up and down, until she's shivering in anticipation. His eyes lock on hers and his hands become more sure as he explores the exposed skin of her back, his palms massaging some nonexistent balm into her lower back, fingers dipping just beneath her waistband before sweeping up her spine.
But as she reflexively draws her shoulders together in response, pushing her still bra-covered breasts nearer to him, he ignores them entirely, choosing instead to flatten both palms on the skin between her shoulder blades, where her words for him reside.
"Is it true?" he whispers as he traces over the lines of the only evidence of him on her body- but his mouth comes seeking hers a moment later, and any reply she'd have made is lost in their shared breath.
His tongue is stroking hers while his fingers are stroking the letters of her tattoo, and they're lost in an endless exchange of warm breath and liquid friction that seems to go on and on and on, dissolving into strings of kisses punctuated by their soft sighs. And just when she thinks she might actually die if he doesn't touch her the way she wants- needs- his broad, callused hands are sliding across her shoulders to rest on the delicate lace of her bra.
Pushing her hips down onto his seems like the most natural thing in the world as he cups her, runs his palms over lacy fabric and the soft swells above. His breath catches and they're still a moment before he squeezes, gently, his low groan the only indication that he's losing himself in her, too. Then, he's finding her nipples, which had formed into rigid peaks long before they'd made it to the room, and dragging his thumbs over them in agonizing circles- the way he hadn't done that night in the cabin…
But only because the first thing he'd done, then, had been to remove her bra entirely.
Even as her eyelids lose their mooring and drift closed, centering all her sensation on the two hard points Jax is currently pressing between thumb and finger, her mind travels back to that night once again. Then, she'd guided his head towards her chest, only too eager to feel the warmth of his mouth closing over the sensitive pink buds there. But that was then.
Now, all of a sudden, though her eyes are closed, it's like she's watching them from some vantage point above as he sucks kisses into her neck, her collarbone, slides his fingers beneath a lacy bra strap and drags it down her shoulder, leaving kisses in its wake.
She finds herself frozen, poised- holding her breath and waiting for his hands to slip around to her back and release the two hooks responsible for the last remaining shreds of her resolve…
But it never happens.
"Where did you go just now?" Jax murmurs, and her eyes flutter open, immediately met by his, wide and concerned in the dark.
"What do you mean?" She returns, defensively, though she knows exactly what he means.
"I- we were…" His voice trails off as he bites his lip, looking away. Then, his hand is reaching to drag her bra strap back up and over her shoulder before he shrugs. "Just seems like you checked out on me, is all."
"It's not a hotel, Jackson," is all she can think to say, and a nervous giggle seems to burst out of her mouth before she can stop it. God, she can't stop- not the giggling, and not the prickling sensation that's quickly spreading up her chest and across her cheeks. And at once, she sees the sudden spark of understanding in his eyes. His jaw ticks, the muscles in his temple sending a deeper shadow traveling across his smooth skin.
"How many drinks did you have? I mean, besides the two you had with me."
"And the two you brought me, and then… then- three, four? Maybe three or five shots with the old ladies. And some beer-"
"Some?" Jax's brows shoot up, and she bites her lip, feeling something like a teenager who's just admitted to sneaking her parents liquor. Though it's not like she's ever had to worry about that anyway…
Then, he's shaking his head, and it's like a shutter's come down over his eyes.
"Doesn't matter, Babe," he murmurs, a hint of stubbornness creeping into his voice. "We're not doin' this when you're drunk-"
"When we're drunk…" But he ignores that.
"And we're definitely not doin' this if you're heart's not in it."
"I'm sorry, Jax," Tara sighs, tears pricking at her eyes- though at this point, she's no longer even sure what she's sorry for. Because most of her- her heart, God, her body- is screaming at her that she's all in. Even her head seems to be more and more convinced that she just needs to let go and dive in with him, whatever the consequences.
What made sense in her mind, though, isn't what comes out. In fact, nothing comes out for precious seconds as she tries to prevent herself from fucking crying. Goddamn tears of frustration, she fumes, blinking rapidly. Though she's not quite sure if the frustration's sexual or otherwise.
Christ, the alcohol has her lips feeling numb, clumsy, and she just can't-
"C'mere," Jax says, softly, interrupting her jumble of thoughts, a knowing look tinting the few features she can make out in the moonlight. He reaches for her- though she can't get much closer to him than she already is- and wraps her in his arms, letting one hand drift up her back to grip her hair and burying his face into the place he'd probably marked with his teeth earlier.
Together, they wait, just holding each other, as their bodies settle- until her pulse is tapping along steadily next to his temple, and the ridge in his jeans is no longer pressing between her legs. Minutes go by without a sound but their heartbeats. And then he's gently guiding her off his lap and helping her stand next to the bed.
Wordlessly, Jax unbuttons his shirt, shrugging out of it before stripping his undershirt over his head and handing it to her. A small smile curves her lips as she pulls it over her head, reveling in his scent even though she'd just been as close to him as a person can be. They both make quick work of jeans, socks, shoes, and he's already in the bed and holding a hand out to her by the time she finishes wriggling around in his shirt to take off her bra.
Despite the uncertainty of the previous minutes, Tara sends him a shy smile as she takes his hand, and it's one Jax returns as he pulls her into bed and into his arms once again. He draws her hair back and over her shoulder so he can nuzzle into his favorite spot, pressing gentle kisses there before finding her fingers and drawing them to his lips so he can kiss them, too. Then, he's taking their joined hands to tug her even closer, until they're fitted together like two puzzle pieces- one the perfect complement to the other- and his mouth comes to rest by her ear.
Just like the first time they'd fallen asleep together in her apartment after their self-imposed separation, she barely hears him when he murmurs,
"I love you, Tara."
But unlike last time, she's wide awake when she mumbles her response.
"Me too."
**A/N- and we're back! They still have some lingering things hanging between them, but they're getting closer- don't give up on them yet! Most of all, thank you for not giving up on me! I have another chapter already written and being edited, and I plan to post that before things get busy in my life again. A million thanks to Ang R for listening to my midnight thoughts, making fabulous suggestions, and reading all of this at least twice. Without her, Tara and Jax may still be pining away for each other in Charming and Tacoma.