Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Juice is coming down from a killer orgasm, straddling Chibs' lap on the kitchen floor when he hears the front door open.

Chibs freezes beneath him, his hands clenching around Juice's hips.

Shit!

'Hey. Chibs, man, you home?' Tig's boots are heavy on the floor.

Juice doesn't dare to look up, just curls himself around Chibs and hopes to God Tig won't walk any further into the room.

Right now they're pretty well hidden but if Tig rounds the corner...

Chibs' hand slides over Juice's lips, his eyes are as afraid as Juice's probably are.

'Hey!' Tig shouts again and takes another couple of steps forwards.

Juice starts to pray.

The Sons aren't bigots: contrary to public opinion, they're not actually Neanderthals, but Juice isn't kidding himself that they'd welcome a gay relationship between two of their members.

He can't imagine what it would be like to be without the club, to have his brothers turn on him.

He suspects that Chibs would take it even worse than him.

From outside, they hear another voice, Opie, asking if Tig's found him.

'Nah,' Tig calls back, his voice sounding odd. 'Not here. Let's go get Juice. Probably catch him up later... back at the clubhouse...' The footsteps fade away and the door shuts again.

Juice remembers how to breathe.

'Shit, that was close.' Relief makes him a bit giddy. He tightens his arms around the other man's neck and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Chibs just shrugs him off.

'Come on, get off me. I gotta get back to the club.'

'Huh? Relax Chibbie, you got time- they're going to my place first.' Juice uses a dish cloth to wipe the spunk away from his belly, struggles back into his shorts and then his jeans and finds his key chain under the table.

Chibs gives him an exasperated look as he shoves himself back into his own pants.

'Lock up, yeah? An' go wait some place they'll find you- not the garage, okay?'

'Okay, fine, I get it!' Juice shakes his head. Trust Chibbie to worry over nothing. Yeah, it was a scare, but they got away with it so what's the problem? They just need to remember to lock the door next time they're screwing.

Chibs is out the door before Juice has a chance to say anything, though, so he just laughs at him in the quiet of the room instead.

&&&

Chibs checks the street and finds it empty. Thank fuck they'd put their bikes out the back of the house last night where they couldn't be seen. He turns the key and his Dyna growls into life.

Usually, being on his bike helps him think, it's kept him sane through all of the shitty parts of his past life. Today, though, his head is full of churning thoughts.

Over Juice's shoulder, he'd been watching their reflection in the dark glass of the oven door, enjoying the play of muscle under skin as Juicy had ridden his cock.

Chibs knows his house, he's been there for years. He knows all the corners, all of the angles.

He knows that from where Tig had stood, he'd have caught the same reflection, seen the back of Juice's head with its unmistakeable mohawk.

He can't imagine being without the Sons. They've been his life, his family, for more than ten years. Ever since he'd turned up scarred and battered, begging JT for help.

He'd known John Teller from Belfast, thought he was a good man- wise in a way most men aren't.

When Jimmy O and the rest of those bastards had handed his arse to him, told him to get out of Ireland and never come back, the MC had become his new reality. Replaced
the family he'd never really got on with, the army he'd struggled to fit in with, the IRA who'd never trusted him and Fiona, who he was never going to be enough for.

Chibs suspects that the Sons is the only place he'll ever fit in. He'll never survive without them, just crawl inside a bottle and die there.

And then, there's Juicy. He tries to picture Juice without the Sons looking out for him.

He remembers what the kid had been like when he'd first arrived in Charming, how eager to please.

He'd prospected for two years before the club accepted him- kid was such an idiot, Clay couldn't trust him to get anything right.

Truth be told, coming up after Jax and Ope, who had breezed through their twelve months like they were born to it, anyone was gonna come up short.

But the guys had watched Juice and shaken their heads, no way the kid was ever gonna cut it...

It had been Jax and Chibs who'd convinced the others. And now, the club wouldn't be without him

For all that the others rag on him, Juice is accepted here now - he's one of them.

Kid needs this life as much as he does.

&&&

Juice hears Chibs bike roar off down the street and emerges from the house himself. His own bike is waiting. He'll take her out to the computing supplies store in Lodi. It won't occur to anyone to go out there looking for him, and if he comes back with a bunch of stuff from there, no one will raise an eyebrow.

Regardless of what some of the others think, he's not actually an idiot.

&&&

The club house is tense when Chibs gets there. The Sons are all gathered, waiting for a meet.

Jax is grim faced when Chibs claps him on the shoulder.

'Brother, what's up?'

'Don't even ask,' Jax growls, stubs his cigarette out and makes his way to the entrance.

Over Jax's shoulder, Bobby makes throat cutting motions with one finger, gestures between Jax and Clay. Chibs has no idea what he means, but he figures it's gonna be a tough vote with the Club President and VP pitched against each other- just for a change.

Well, no matter, Chibs will listen to both men then vote with his heart, like always.

Bobby and Ope'll listen and then vote with their heads.

Tig will vote with Clay, no matter what and Hap'll vote for blood every time.

Juicy will listen to both sides. But, if neither side wins him over, his loyalty to Clay will always swing it for him- kid loves the Prez like a father.

Not that Clay has ever really noticed.

Or done anything to earn it.

&&&

Juice is the last of the Sons to arrive.

He plays being surprised at the mystery vote pretty well, acts dumb and harps on for a bit about the really cool game he got for his X-box until people roll their eyes and leave him alone.

Chibs feels Tig's eyes sliding from him to Juicy and back again, hears the cogs turning in the man's mind.

If there was ever any doubt, now Chibs knows for sure that Tig has made them.

He knows well enough how this is best played out: If Tig thinks it's just a one-time thing, he'll leave well enough alone- guy's motto seems to be along the lines of 'try anything once'.

If he thinks though that it's something more, something they might put before the club, he'll go to the others.

Chibs can't really blame him, it's probably what he'd do too.

Trouble is, of course, Chibs is a lousy liar and Juicy's even worse. Tig will see straight through any lie they tell.

He looks across at Juicy and he feels a twinge somewhere in his gut: Fiona and that mick bastard killing him all over again. It's fucking unfair. These last months are the happiest Chibs has ever known.

The only way to convince Tiggy that nothing's going on between the two of them is if it really isn't.

&&&

Juice knows Chibs is watching, so he turns to flick him a quick wink: it's okay, they got away with it.

Tig slaps him on the shoulder and hands him a beer, tells him he'd wondered where he'd got to, been sure he'd be at Chibs', since he spends so much time there.

Juice just shrugs, takes a gulp, says 'nah, not all the time' and nothing more is said.

It's okay, it's all gonna be fine.

Juice feels Chibs' eyes on him and he thinks to himself that they can keep doing this forever.

He feels Chibby looking, and it's like he's naked already and he just wants it, knows the other man is feeling the same thing.

&&&

It's late when Chibby turns up at Juice's.

He'd not been expecting him, figured he'd leave it a few days to let things quiet down.

'Hey, what happened to your key?' Juice pulls the door open ajar and then goes back to his X-box. Chibs'll get them both a beer and make himself at home on the couch, complain about what's on TV and then watch it anyway while Juice gets to the next level and saves his game ready for tomorrow.

'Juicy, put that down and come here a minute will yer?' Chibs pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, like he's tired, or something. He doesn't pull Juice onto the couch with him like normal, just sits, his hands loosely clasped.

Juice feels something heavy in the pit of his stomach.

It's nothing, it's always nothing- Juice spends his every waking moment with that same feeling of dread, like everything that's good is going to end. He's had that feeling ever since he was a kid- school counsellor called it 'a free floating anxiety disorder' but his step dad just told her to stick it, his kid wasn't a pussy.

Chibs has, in his own way, the last God knows how many years, been unwittingly teaching him that life isn't always about to kick you in the teeth- sometimes things are allowed to work out. Every day they spend together is proof enough of that.

Juice shakes it off, presses a kiss to the crown of the other man's head and dumps himself on the couch, just close enough to jostle him.

Chibs though, he shifts away. He doesn't touch, he just clasps his hands together like he's about to pray.

'Juicy, today was close-'

'Yeah, it's my fault. I was last home last night, I shoulda locked the door, I'm sorry man-'

'No, listen, you gotta.... This ends. Now.'

Juice must have heard him wrong. Or it's a joke. Not really Chibbie's style of joke, but it's been a tough day...

'Chibbie, what are you talking about?'

Chibs doesn't answer, just claws his hands through his hair and rests his elbows on his knees, head down and face hidden.

Finally, he looks up and when he does he looks lost.

'I'm sorry, Juicy, but I can't... Club comes first, that's all there is to it.'

And like that, Juice knows that it's not free fucking floating anxiety, its not paranoia and it's not his own stupidity.

The sky is actually falling.

He feels himself shrinking, disappearing, becoming the nothing he's always deep down suspected he might be.

He hears his own voice from far away outside of himself and it sounds hollow and alien.

'Get out.'

Far away, Chibs is sighing, wiping his palms down his jeans and rubbing his eyes.

He takes his keys off the chain on his belt loop, works one of them free and places it quietly on the low table.

'You be okay?'

'I said, get out!'

&&&

Juice finds himself alone, curled up on the floor, his head in his hands.

The room is trashed, his computer keyboard sticking out of the monitor and the remains of his X-box in pieces against the opposite wall.

There's glass all over the floor, what Juice thinks might be the stuffing from his couch floating in the air.

He stares around him for a long moment.

Then he throws up.

&&&

Chibs drives around for hours, like he used to before Juice.

Out of town and up into the hills, round and back on himself in a giant figure eight that he repeats over and over again.

He thinks about this morning, the way they'd gone from chasing each other around the kitchen and flicking each other with towels to collapsing all over each other, the rest of the world forgotten.

He thinks about the way Juice had looked, straddling his lap, flushed and sparkling with laughter.

He thinks about the slick slide of their skin, the teeth marks he knows are still there on his shoulder.

Then he thinks about the way Juice had looked just now, first shocked, then disbelieving, finally closed and shuttered. Juice never hides anything from him- it's probably the thing Chibs loves most about him but in that instant, Juice had closed down and it all went to shit in a heartbeat.

The only thought he has to comfort him is that he knows he's done the right thing- whether Juicy ever understands that or not.

Without the club, they're both lost.

Chapter Text

Tig likes Sundays. He likes waking up late with some girl and not having to get up and go jerk around fixing other people's cars. He likes a lazy fuck followed by an equally lazy day drinking in the clubhouse with the guys, maybe even take their bikes out some place. He likes the way they're all too hungover for the really gnarly shit and they all talk in drowsy voices, chilled and mellow.

Today though, today's been weird. Juice, who's normally kinda strange but perfectly sweet, has been all folded into himself, like he hates everyone.

Chibs has been a fucking bear, slumped in the corner with a bottle of Jack and hardly a word for anyone.

The guy gets black from time to time- they all do- and Chibs probably has as much to be dark about as the rest of them: his wife, his kid, all that shit with the IRA. It's a long while since Tig saw him this bad though.

Tig thinks back to the other day when he'd gone looking for Chibs at his house, wonders if that has anything to do with it. He'd seen Chibs, on his kitchen floor with a naked body tangled up around him. Tig only saw for a second, in the reflection from one of the kitchen appliances, but he's pretty sure the other body hadn't been a chick.

Tig's a man of the world, he knows that sometimes a warm body's just a warm body and he's not about to judge what another guy gets up to when he's had a few drinks. Chibs has caught him in a few compromising positions over the years and kept it to himself. The Scotsman is the only one of the Sons who witnessed Oregon and it remains a bond between them that ensures neither man will ever betray the other.

He looks from Chibs to Juice and shrugs. Whatever it is, it's not his business. Sometimes, you just gotta stay out of other people's mess. They'll fix it or they won't.

&&&

Juice gets himself the hell out of the clubhouse the minute Chibs walks in, goes to make himself useful in the armoury, inventorying with Bobby. It's a boring job that no one wants but it helps keep him occupied.

Bobby gives him a one armed hug, AK in his other arm, and promises him 'the mother of all hash brownies' for helping him out.

Ima slides her way over to where Chibs is sat drinking and Juice thinks to himself, yeah, buddy, fuck you very much.

An hour or two later he sees Chibs slink away with Ima and suddenly feels the urge to fucking hurt someone. Takes it out on the punch-bag in the weights room.

When he leaves, it's gone three in the morning and his head is pounding- working out with only beer for liquids is a really dumb idea.

He leaves his bike and sets off on foot instead, which is also pretty dumb but it's better than getting pulled over for driving drunk. Or staying at the clubhouse and listening to Chibs banging Ima on the other side of the paper thin walls.

He doesn't notice the van until it's pulled up alongside him and then it's too late because suddenly his ears are ringing, and the world is dull at the edges, and the ground is rising to meet him.

&&&

Juice comes to tied to a chair. His head feels like it's gonna explode.

He doesn't recognise the guys stood around him, three of them, their eyes all cold, like they're looking at a side of beef.

It's cold without his cut and with his sweat cooling on his skin.

'Hey, look guys, I think you made a mistake. Just let me go and my friends don't hunt you down and kill you.'

The first punch is to his gut, knocks him back on the chair's back legs.

'You think you're clever. You're not.' One of the goons comes close. 'We got questions. Answer them.'

Juice recognises the tattoo adorning the man's arm.

He glances around him, sees the instruments all laid out and knows this is going to be bad.

&&&

No one's seen Juice all day.

Tig bitches about the kid shirking his share of the work and Gemma curses a blue streak about him not having fixed her office chair like he'd said he would.

Clay scowls and threatens violence if he has to listen to any more shit from his Queen just because that shit-head couldn't get his ass out of bed.

Hap just rides 'round to Juice's house and comes back to say that the kid's not there.

Chibs sees Juice's bike standing lonely in the parking lot and panic wells up like sick in his throat.

&&&

Juice remembers that once some kids from his neighbourhood found a stray dog, tortured it. He never really knew why but everyone joined in, even him.

He remembers holding a stone, ready to launch it, his friends calling to him to hurry up and take his turn.

He remembers seeing fear in the creature's eyes and he remembers hating the dog for it, feeling disgusted at the sight of something so pathetic.

Later, when it was over and the poor animal was dead, he had slowly approached the body, felt his disgust melt away into something he couldn't name.

He had realised that it hadn't been the dog's fear he had hated but his own.

He realised that on that day, he hadn't been the smallest and the weakest, the picked upon. The dog had all but taken his place and instead of being grateful, standing up for it he had turned on it just like the others. He was no better.

Now, slumped useless in his chair, he realises that he is being looked at with the same hatred.

Later, when he is just a smear, someone may look at his broken and lifeless body and have their own epiphany, but it won't matter to him because he'll be dead.

But at least he won't hurt anymore.

&&&

It's pretty hard finding intel on a missing Son when your intelligence officer's the one that's gone.

The members of the MC split up to cover as much ground as possible.

One by one, they come back empty handed.

Then Chibs catches sight of an Ayrian Brotherhood tattoo on the arm of a guy in Stockton and he just knows...

&&&

Putting the squeeze on a coward like Darby is easy. Jax sticks the muzzle of his gun between the guy's lips anyway, just to underline the point.

Darby's eyes flit from Jax to Ope to Chibs, pacing by the doorway. He doesn't really understand these guys who stick together like some sort of tribe. He watched this nature show once about a wolf pack and really, these guys are no different.

He thinks Juice might be the little pretty one with the stupid hair cut. Youngest usually means dumbest so he guesses the others are used to protecting him.

The English guy though, Irish, Scottish, Welsh, whatever, is acting like the kid's his only son or his one true love or something, pushing on the VP to hurry up, come on, he knows more than he's saying....

A flicker of irritation shows, even behind Jax's dark glasses.

Darby knows there'll be an argument between them later.

&&&

Jax storms out of the tiny house and down the driveway to his bike, his eyes impenetrable behind his sunglasses.

Ope follows at a slightly slower pace, pauses Chibs with a hand to his shoulder and a low word.

'Hey man, we're all blind-sided by this. No need to show it in front of scum like Darby.'

Chibs sighs, he knows he's acting like an idiot.

He looks at Ope, remembers the gawky kid that used to hang around the garage on his BMX bike and thinks to himself that this man is nothing like that boy. Ope has surpassed his father, has become the steadiest presence the club has in its arsenal.

'Yeah, I know... Gimme a minute to square it with Jackie boy?'

Opie nods solemnly, goes over to his bike and guns it into life, leaves the other two men behind.

Astride his own bike, Jax looks back at Chibs with a 'what the fuck?' expression.

'Hey, I'm acting like a fucking idiot, I know that. Shouldn't a hurried you in front a that bell-end.'

Jax gives a little snort. 'Yeah, you are and you did. Wanna tell me why?'

'Not really. That okay with you?'

'Figures. Look man, let's just find Juice, alright?'

'Aye.' Chibs hides behind his sunglasses, sets off behind his VP.

Get the boy found, that's what he'd said.

Just get him found and worry about the rest of it later.

&&&

When they get back to the clubhouse, the skinhead with the AB tattoos is already waiting for them. He's been tied to a chair, Opie, Happy and Tig standing over him.

His face is bruising up nicely and there's a splodge of blood clotting in his hair line. Chibs guesses he put up a pretty good fight.

He's already told the guys everything he knows and is playing possum while the Sons confer.

Chibs resists the temptation to put a bullet in his head, joins the others instead.

'What do we know?' Jax ducks his head in low, keeps one eye on their guest.

'Aryans. Been watching us a while now...' Hap is wiping blood off his hands like it's just dishwater. 'Took Juice 'cause he was on his own.'

Chibs feels sick. Kid was unprotected- walking home late at night so he didn't have to see Chibs banging that little blonde porn chick...

He remembers catching sight of the lad's face that night, the shock, quickly schooled.

He remembers that he'd regretted it almost immediately.

He hardly remembers anything of the night he'd spent with Ima, had scarcely even noticed she was there.

In the morning she'd curled her lithe form around him, twirled a lock of his hair in her fingers and cooed softly that he'd seemed distracted, perhaps she could help...

He'd shrugged her off, told her to sling her hook.

That wasn't like him. Normally he felt obliged to at least get a girl a cup of tea, make sure she had cash for a cab ride home.

That morning though, he'd just wanted to forget it all, sit with a cigarette, his regret sharp in his belly.

&&&

'They got a lock up, out on the highway,' Tig says, later. 'It's well guarded but, we wait till it's dark, sneak up, should work out.'

'I got no problem dealing with a crowd,' Jax growls. 'We kill 'em all in one go, we don't have to spend time hunting them all down. And we're gonna find them all. Every one of them's dyin' bloody.'

The others nod their agreement. Chibs doesn't need to add anything. He knows his brothers will finish this.

He just has to hope that they get to Juicy in time, that the kid's okay.

&&&

They've been at him for hours, Juice thinks. He spits a mouthful of blood, but it doesn't get far, just drools down his chin. Too weak to spit- Jesus, he really is in trouble. He can't laugh though, it hurts too much.

'Come on you piece of shit, tell us the account numbers and all this stops.' The main guy comes back with his little hunting knife. Juice can't take his eyes off the blade, the way it glints in the lousy light.

He knows how it works, has heard enough stories from Tig, Chibs and the others. Once they don't need him, he's just gonna end up in a shallow grave with a bullet in the brain.

He tears his eyes from the sight, peers up at the guy and smiles, says 'fuck you'.

He can hear screaming. It must be him. He knows he's hurting, but it feels distant, like the long ago memory of a pain once felt.

In his minds eye, he sees Chibs watching him, reminding him to keep his mouth shut, telling him he'll see him right.

&&&

Nathan Zobelle pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep cleansing breath. Almost daily he is reminded that not everyone has his gifts.

Once, his life had been different, his rise so easy that he had thought nothing could actually challenge him.

Then, it had all changed: the debacle in Charming, the loss of his daughter.

Now he has to rely on morons like JP Greene, the leader of this particular off shoot of the Aryan Brotherhood.

However, that's the way of life- you adjust and adapt.

His instructions had been simple, he'd thought: put an end to the Charming charter. No need for anything complicated, just hunt each member down one by one. They could then be replaced by an AB coup, opening the Northern Cali area up to Zobelle's business partners.

He has no idea why Greene thought it necessary to take one of them and try to torture him first.

'But boss,' Greene wheedles. 'Sons got money. We get the accounts, we get the money.'

'Just get rid of him and then go after the others. Finish this, Mr Greene,' Zobelle says and terminates the call.

It isn't even as if Greene has taken anyone particularly valuable from the Sons, it's just the funny looking brown boy who should, by rights, run with the Mayans, rather than the Sons.

Zobelle doubts a screw up like that would have been trusted with anything like the bank account numbers for the Samcro funds.

&&&

JP slips his cell phone back into his pocket, returns to the others.

Zobelle's a genius, he gets that, but he doesn't know everything.

For Zobelle, white supremacy is nothing more than a financial investment. He doesn't realise that these people, these animals, are taking over the world, bringing their stupid ways and their strange gods. Taking the jobs, the resources, leaving the working man, the white man, with nothing.

When you're fighting that all the time, fighting for survival, resisting an enemy like that, you learn early on to hate them as your enemy as much as they hate you as theirs.

He'd picked the Latino kid because he knew that he could get his men's blood up. It was the only way to get his guys to move against white men.

Zobelle has no understanding of what it is to be a soldier, a warrior, fighting for his life, with honour.

The Sons of Anarchy, they're not his enemies, not really- they're misguided, having a wetback in their number- they're warriors though, just like the Brotherhood and they each deserve an honourable death.

This kid though, this piece of shit... Greene can let his men do what they like with him...

One of his guys comes forward with a heavy chain in his hands, inspired grin on his face.

'Latinos meant to be good dancers right? All that natural rhythm.... Let's see this boy dance!'

&&&

Night falls and the Sons remove their cuts, stack them up on the table in the chapel. They tool up and file out to the two vans Hap had the prospects steal for them. No one really says anything.

Chibs and Bobby down a shot each at the bar before they join the others. No idea what they're going to find, best to be prepared.

Bobby catches Chibs' sleeve on their way out the door, tells him it'll be okay, kid's strong, they'll get him back.

&&&

They've got him hanging from a beam by his cuffed hands.

He's learned that you can't breath properly when you're strung up like this, that your arms start to ache immediately, then they start to burn. That you cannot do anything to protect yourself and the terror of it is all consuming.

If you're having the living shit kicked out of you, there's always a part of you that's glad it can curl up small, protect all the vital soft stuff inside. Strung up like this, there's no illusion of escape or safety.

They had a couple of his teeth out of his head and the nails from both hands while he was tied to the chair and that had seemed like blinding agony. It was nothing compared to what has followed.

That guy and his hunting knife have had some fun carving into his belly and he daren't look to see what they've done.

Juice thinks one of them might have miscalculated a bit with that hunting knife, since they stuck it into his thigh, pain lancing it's way up through his groin. And then there had been panicked murmurings about not letting him bleed to death, and they'd wrapped a tourniquet around the wound.

They threw cold water at him when he passed out.

Right now his body feels as heavy as lead but his head feels light, like it could float away and leave all of this behind.

There's no air in his lungs.

He sees himself two days ago, as if from a great distance, wrestling Chibbie to the floor with him, the pair of them laughing like idiots, teeth clashing and hands grabbing.

He sees Chibs' forehead pressed against his own, the way the older man's eyes soften, the edges crinkling.

He sees him whisper in his ear, words that he only ever says when they're alone, when they're fucking.

He wants to scream, warn them both.

He wants Chibbie to look up from this other Juice, look up and see him standing there, look up and understand.

Juice thinks this might be the last time he ever sees the other man.

He can feel the world slipping away, his lead-heavy body left behind.

&&&

Jax is first in the door. He stops abruptly and swears, Tig and Opie nearly collide with him, pull themselves up and groan.

Chibs doesn't need to look to know that it's bad.

There's a trestle table in the corner that's covered in all kinds of hardware, what looks like Dr Mengeler's tool kit.

The tarp spread on the floor is covered with blood and God knows what else.

That's not the worst though.

There are beams running the length of the room.

There's a guy hanging by his wrists from one of the beams.

His head is bowed but they all know immediately who it is.

He's not moving.

Chapter Text

The others have frozen but Chibs leaps into action, reaches up to grab Juice's legs, take the weight off his arms.

Kid's heavy, his skin is slick with sweat and blood. Chibs can't get a good hold. Opie though, Opie's at his side and Ope's strong, and between the two of them they manage to take Juice's weight.

Stood this close, Chibs can see that Juice's lips are blue.

'For fucks sake, help us!' he screams and Jax wakes from his stupor.

'Can you get up there?' Ope asks him, 'Get this chain off the beam so we can get him down?'

'Yeah, I got it.' Jax's mouth is set in a grim line as he examines the beam, sees no way up. 'Chibs, let go and gimme a lift up.'

Ope holds tight to Juice while Chibs makes a cradle with his hands, boosts the VP up onto the beam. He takes hold of Juice again and tunes out the sounds of Jax's swearing, concentrates on keeping hold of the kid.

'Chibs, hey, you listening to me?' Ope's voice brings him up straight, 'He's not breathing. When we get him down, you gotta do CPR. You up to that?'

'Yeah, I got it, brother.' He'll do anything it takes to save the lad.

All around them, the rest of the Sons have gone crazy with rage and blood lust, Tig and Hap leading them. Chibs doesn't care. Only thing that matters is that Juice isn't breathing.

Jax gets the chain undone and between them, the three men carefully lower Juice's prone body to the floor.

'Careful, gotta support him.' Chibs tries to remember what little he learned in his time as an army medic.

Knows that any part of the kid's body could be broken, they might make him worse.

Knows that the knife still sticking out of Juice's thigh is probably keeping a fair amount of blood in him.

Knows that the amount of blood already staining his jeans and the floor around him, could kill him.

Juice's eyes are swollen shut. Chibs feels for a pulse and of course there isn't one. He ducks his head, puts his ear at the kid's mouth, then his chest.

There's no sound of a heartbeat, no brush of warm air. He links his hands and places them quickly on Juice's chest, starts to press.

'One, two, three, four, five...'

Nothing happens.

&&&

Jax remembers the day a down at the heels Scotsman turned up at his house, stinking of booze and half asleep on his feet.

Guy had scars like Batman's Joker.

Jax had been fifteen and terrified, yelled for his Mom and shut the door on the guy.

'Take him up to the club house,' Gemma had said. 'Your father'll know what to do.'

Jax had beckoned the stranger out to Gemma's car, and though he wasn't legally supposed to drive, taken him down to Teller Morrow.

The man had slumped over the open window, watching the passing road and sucking hard on a cigarette from a packet Jax had never seen before. He'd said something but Jax hadn't understood a word of it.

He'd looked like those pictures of POWs- shell-shocked, his dad would call it, like he'd seen something terrible and it had left its mark, deep in his soul.

JT had hugged the man close, kissed him on each scarred cheek, said quietly, 'You're home, brother. No matter what happens, this place is for you.'

Chibs hasn't been a stranger to Jax for a long time, probably not since that day. These last days though, he's been as unknowable and unfathomable as he was then.

Jax has watched him and known that whatever's been eating at the Scotsman is a least as poisonous as the horrors that drove him from Ireland.

He watches his friend now as he works frantically to get air into Juice's lungs and he thinks to himself once more, 'Nope, sometimes I really don't know you at all.'

&&&

Juice gives a little gasp and stutters into life, his eyes flickering open and then closed again.

'Keep him still,' Chibs tells Opie, casting around for anything to use to staunch the blood, and the taller man presses firmly down on Juice's shoulders so he can't move.

Ope looks at Chibs, sees that his eyes are clear, focused, for the first time since Juice went missing.

&&&

Jax stares around at the carnage his brothers have inflicted on the Aryans. It's time they made their exit.

Juice is alive, they can bundle him up, get him in the van and back to the clubhouse where Tara can look after him.

If they need to they can even take him to St Thomas'.

&&&

Chibs pulls his jacket off, tucks it in around Juice's shoulders.

The kid is a mess of blood and pain, Chibs can hardly bear touching him for fear of hurting him further but he knows to work fast and ignore any murmurs of pain Juice gives if he's going to keep him alive.

The bruises that cover both eyes, one cheek, his opposite jaw, pale into insignificance next to injuries Chibs hasn't seen since Northern Ireland. That knife wound could lose him his leg.

Juice groans softly and his eyes flicker open.

'Chibbie,' his voice is little more than a whisper, he gasps like he's breathing through wet gauze.

'Juicy, it's alright, don't try and talk. Keep still, you're alright.'

'No, listen, you gotta... I didn't tell them anything... They tried but I kept my mouth shut.' The kid looks so proud of himself.

Well, he should be, plenty of men have given up under that sort of torture. If Juice gave any information up, no one would blame him.

Juice catches hold of his arm, even though it must be killing his hand, and his grip is unwavering.

'Please, tell Clay...'

Of course the kid needs to let his surrogate father know he's not let him down.

Chibs looks up, calls for Clay and the older man holsters his gun, walks over. He has to kneel down close to listen and when Juice manages to repeat what he's just said, he nods, presses one mighty paw onto Juice's shoulder, tells him he's proud, son and Juice falls smiling into unconsciousness.

&&&

'We need to get out of here, brother,' Clay murmurs.

'Don't know how bad he's hurt, we move him, we could make him worse.'

'Come on man, you know we gotta. Juice would agree if it was one of us-' Chibs feels Jax at his arm, the voice of reason as always.

Chibs will follow these two men into hell but he's never letting any harm come to Juice, not again.

'I'll take the fall for it then. You can all get outta here.'

'Take the fall? For all this?' Jax gives a grim laugh, gestures at the dead and dying. 'No fuckin' way. Cops'd never believe all this was down to one man anyway.'

'I can do the time for it.' Chibs raises his eyes to meet Jax's, turns to meet Clay's.

He knows that Clay will be tempted.

Clay knows he can trust Chibs to stonewall the cops and any suspicions they might have about what happened here will remain just that, unsubstantiated.

'You're not seriously considering it. Clay? Come on man, this is a shitty idea...'

Clay is shrugging, happy enough with it.

'No. No listen. We get rid of the bodies, we clean up the evidence. We get the ambulance here and we pay off the drivers. It's that simple.'

Chibs doesn't care. He's told them he'll stay. Kid's all that matters.

He goes back to Juice, wraps his ruined hands in the cloth Ope hands him- torn up strips from someone's t shirt. Uses the remainder to cover the wounds to the lad's belly. Hap drags a battered old chair over and they use it to carefully raise the foot of Juice's injured leg.

The others can do what they want, he just needs this time, look at the lad, listen to him breathing.

&&&

'No signal,' Bobby mutters to Jax.

'Fine. Get a prospect to drive back out to the road where there's a signal. Everyone else, clean up. I want this place eyeball clean when the paramedics get here.'

'What if the medics won't be bought?'

'I persuade them.' Hap's soft on his feet, comes out of no where.

Having Happy on board makes the plan seem less crazy.

&&&

Juice is warm, floating. Everything's all white and he can hear what sounds like the fucking voice of God, telling him, 'Sweetheart, you're safe now.'

&&&

They won't let Chibs go any further than the double doors at the entrance to the hospital. He pushes back against the two orderlies but they won't take no for an answer.

Tara's there though, with that gentle look on her face, and he can't push her aside, not when she's clever and sweet, and better than any of them, and she knows this world far better than he does.

She tells him the doctors are doing everything they can, he did a good job keeping Juice alive and not letting anyone move him...

'Will you go with him, Doc? Look after him.'

She shakes her head.

'I'm a paeds surgeon, I'm not qualified. But the doctors in there know what they're doing.'

'Doc, you gotta make sure they do all they can to... If he loses his leg, he'll not be able to ride... It'd kill him-'

'I know. Try not to worry.' She looks and probably realises there's little chance of that. 'Look, stay here and as soon as I know anything I'll... Here.' She takes a clipboard from the receptionist and hands it to him. 'You should put yourself down as next of kin so they let you in to see him when he's out of surgery...'

He stares at her uncomprehendingly and she has to hand it to Ope instead and rely on him to steer the Scotsman away to sit and wait.

&&&

The quiet is fading away now, replaced by urgent voices, bright lights and strange sounds.

He wants to tell them all to go away, let him sleep. He's so, so tired and it doesn't hurt when he's sleeping.

He wants to get back to that voice, the one that made everything okay, but he can't, not when he's tied down and heavy like this.

His feet are fucking cold and he really wants to tell someone, but he can't because he's so heavy, and its pulling him down and he's disappearing, and when he's gone it'll be like he was never here, and no one will even remember he existed.

But he never told. He never told. He never told.

&&&

The private room is silent but for the beeping of machinery that Chibs can't put a name to.

In the big white bed, Juice is pale and pathetic. His tan looks like it was painted on.

Chibs has seen the lad sleeping, seen him lying in a delicious sprawl, hogging a king size bed and snoring his head off; seen him curled up on the couch, waiting for Chibs to come back from some place; even seen him passed out in the street.

He's never seen him this like this though. The kid positively vibrates with energy, he never stops and even in sleep he fidgets, he murmurs and he snores.

Drugged as he is right now though, he looks like he's dead. If it weren't for the heart monitor telling him otherwise, Chibs would think he was.

'It looks worse than it is,' Tara murmurs.

Chibs had forgotten she was there, barely remembers her gentle smile as she'd told him Juice would recover, that she could take him in to see him.

He remembers nothing of how they got from there to here and has no idea how he'll find his way back out of the ward. It doesn't matter though. The important thing is that he's here and Juice is alive.

He rests his palm over Juice's heart to better feel it beating, and once he's alone again, lays his head on the pillow so he can hear Juice breathing and as he starts to fall into an exhausted doze, he could swear he hears a voice say 'Don't leave me'.

Chapter Text

Juice wakes up when the pain meds run out. His mouth is dry and feels like it's been stuffed with something horrible. His belly feels tight and tangled, his hands, like they're on fire. He doesn't want to dwell on why his leg hurts as much as it does.

He'd dreamt that Chibs was with him, telling him he'd be okay, telling him all kinds of stupid stuff that the Scotsman would never actually say.

It had been nice, like their break up had just been a bad dream, like they were a forever thing.

He glances over at the chair next to his bed and is greeted by a pair of ice blue eyes.

'Good morning, beautiful!' Tig Trager has never been Juice's idea of a good morning. 'You doin' okay?'

'Hurts.'

Juice wants to cut everything that hurts off. Or have someone else do it for him because he'd need his hands for that and they're the worst thing right now.

And it'd be really nice if someone could close the blinds.

Tig just shrugs, laughs and tells him the nurse'll be 'round soon enough. Then he looks serious for a moment, his eyes drilling deep in that way they have.

'Sent Chibs home- guy needs to sleep,' he says and looks hard for Juice's response.

'Good,' he manages. 'Can you find me some good drugs?'

Tig just laughs, gets to his feet and ambles out of the room.

He's gone for-fucking-ever and Juice suspects he's actually screwing one of the nurses rather than getting any pain meds.

And the stupid blinds are still open.

He sleeps. Because, frankly, it's better than Tig with no drugs.

&&&

Tara stops by with that sad smile she always seems to wear when one of them is hurt. She gets him better meds and strokes his arm until he falls into sleep again.

He forgot to ask her about the blinds though, and the light filters red on the inside of his eyelids, reminds him of what happened over the last few days and right away, he's transported back to that damned warehouse, strung up like a marionette with those creeps and their knives.

And he's so glad it was him this happened to and not Chibby.

Juice could never bear to see the other man in as much of a mess as he's in right now.

&&&

He pisses the fucking bed and it's the most humiliating thing that's happened to him in a long while.

The nurses cluck around him and clean him up and it fucking hurts: don't they realise that every movement kills him?

And don't they realise he can't move in the directions they're pulling him in, because they must have done the stitches on his belly too tight, and he'll never walk upright again, and his head feels like it's been twisted off and put back on wrong.

And those fuckers took four of his teeth and he never wants to chew food again, so why are they giving him a fucking sandwich to eat when he can't pick it up and he can't chew it, and no he's not going to be hand fed like a fucking baby!

&&&

They leave his feet sticking out from the bed clothes.

He gets cramp.

It's horrible but it almost takes his mind off his hands.

He sleeps.

&&&

He dreams that someone comes in and tucks his feet away under the blankets, gently rubs the cramp away.

&&&

He dreams that his fucking mom is there, brushing the hair from his forehead even though she's been dead since he was twelve and he's been shaving his head since he was eighteen.

&&&

He dreams that he's back home in Chibby's house and he's on the crumby couch with the spring that gets you, wham in the kidneys every time, and he can smell burnt coffee and that means that Chibs is up, and any minute he's gonna come in and whisper a kiss into his ear, 'Shove over, Juicy', and squish him into the back of the couch.

He dreams that Chibs is slurping tea and reading the newspaper. He's got the paper laid out over Juice's head, and he's turning the pages and grumbling about idiot Americans and their stupid laws and not noticing that Juice isn't actually a fucking table.

He dreams that he can put his arms around the other man's middle and rest his head on his chest, and he can smell sweat and motor oil and that Chibs' t shirt is scratchy under his cheek.

&&&

He wakes and sees, down the line of his body, that his feet are tucked away under the blankets. And the blinds are finally closed.

And, out of the corner of his eye, he can see movement as the pages of a newspaper are turned. And he can hear a voice grumbling about stupid newspapers printing shite and that there's not even page three to look at...

Juice is pretty sure it's not the newspaper's fault that Chibs has lost a page...

'Hey,' he whispers and Chibs looks up. 'You look like shit.'

'Says the man in the hospital gown...' Chibs cracks a grin and it's probably about the most perfect thing Juice has ever seen.

'How bad?'

'Nah, yer fine. Busted ribs, few ventilation holes. Won't be eating toffee or picking your nose for a while. You need anything?'

'Thirsty.'

Chibs nods like he knows what to do, picks up a glass and guides the drinking straw into Juice's mouth.

'Just little sips... You want painkillers?'

'Yeah.'

And then there are little magic pills, right there in the palm of Chibs' hand, and he's slipping them into Juices mouth and bringing the straw back. He strokes one hand over Juice's forehead as he returns to his seat.

They are silent for a time, Chibs just sitting and Juice drifting off on his new chemical high.

Soon, when it doesn't kill him to talk, Juice will ask what happened and Chibs will tell him.

Then, Juice will find the words to tell him how he got jumped by those guys and that he'd thought he was gonna fucking die.

And he might even tell him about the dog.

Then, he'll probably spoil it all by telling Chibs that it was thoughts of him that got him through it all.

That he thinks he might survive without the Sons but that he won't survive without Chibs.

Then, Chibs'll remind him that they're not like before and that he needs to forget about what they almost had, and then he'll be gone and it'll just be Juice on his own again.

'Hey, it's alright, don't cry.' Chibs' voice is cracking and he's leaning forward to thumb the wet from Juice's eyes. 'You're okay, you're safe now, I promise. Come on now, sweetheart.' Chibs looks like he might be on the verge himself.

Juice can't help laughing, they must look like such a mess. He lifts one bandaged hand to cup the older man's face and quickly regrets it, magma heat rushing up his arm, leaving him gasping.

Chibs just bows his head to dovetail with Juice's, strokes his cheek and hushes him until the pain fades. He lays his head down on the pillow beside him and then it's perfect, just the two of them.

'What about-'

'Hush, Juicy, just go back to sleep. You're gonna be okay.'

&&&

The next time Juice wakes up, Opie is sitting ram rod straight in the chair beside him, glaring at a motorcycle magazine like it's done something to offend him.

Damn.

Maybe it's good though.

Maybe it means they made Chibs go home for some sleep.

And Opie is better company than Tig.

&&&

Jax sits staring at the blood-covered cell phone.

Happy had lifted it off the AB leader's body before he dumped it, along with the others and started a forest fire that'll probably reach as far as Lodi. Kill everything in it's wake.

Guy knows how to hide a massacre...

The cell phone's a prepay and has no numbers programmed in, but when Jax had rung the last number called on it, he'd instantly recognised the voice of the man who answered it.

Now he just has to decide whether to tell the others, what they're gonna do about it.

A voice down a phone is not much good, it's not a location.

Knowing who ordered the hit on one of their own will just drive them all to madness if they can't have vengeance.

&&&

Ope and Tig bully Chibs out of the ward and into Tara's car so she can drive him home.

And although he knows the kid's awake and talking, going to be okay, he still can't sleep. Drags himself out of his pit and finds himself at Juicy's, no recollection of how he got there.

Without his key, he has to climb up the drain pipe and in through the bathroom window that doesn't shut properly.

The den is a mess, broken glass, busted sofa, trashed computer and telly. He finds the key he'd taken off his key ring only two days ago on the floor in the middle of all the broken glass.

At first he thinks maybe it was those Aryan Brotherhood arseholes who did this, then he remembers the look on Juice's face that night, that he'd once said he used to get into rages.

Looks like Juicy did a number on his own house.

Chibs kicks off his boots and slides into Juice's bed, buries his face in his pillow and breathes deep.

He sleeps, maybe a couple of hours, not bad for him really. Wakes curled around Juice's pillow, his face wet with tears.

He has no idea what he was dreaming about, but he can guess.

He lights the first of several cigarettes.

He remembers a night, more than six months before, the two of them alone in the clubhouse, matching each other drink for drink, Chibs with Scotch and Juice on the tequila.

Juice had been pretty drunk when he'd finally blurted it out: 'Did you ever... you know... with a guy?'

He remembers he'd not been able to resist messing with the lad a little, asking him what he meant, asking him, why, you curious? He let it hang there: Juice's nervousness, the warmth of liquor in his belly, soft drowsy horniness coming on slow.

He'd wanted to see if the lad was serious.

Juice had retreated to the pool table, messed about setting up with shaking hands and a blush creeping up the back of his neck. 'Sorry, it was a dumb question. I'm just drunk, forget I said anything.'

Then, Chibs had known the kid really was putting himself on the line. And if Chibs didn't make a move, he was going to lose his chance.

He'd gotten to his feet and walked over to place his hands on Juice's hips, felt Juice startle against him and murmured something in the lad's ear, he doesn't remember what. Juicy had just sagged against him like someone had cut his strings.

He remembers how easy it had been to get Juice out of his clothes, that his skin had been smooth and hot.

He remembers the little breathy moans Juice let out, the way the lad bit his lip to keep from making further noise.

He'd had to guide the lad in what to do, whisper instructions and reassurances in his ear and Juice had trusted him completely, let him have his way.

Juice had been shy in his touches, arched back against Chibs like a cat being fussed, completely fucking lovely.

Chibs had wanted to turn the lad in his arms, snog him silly, and fuck him face to face like they were something more than two guys drunk in a bar.

He remembers that afterwards, they'd both been silent, pulling their clothing back into place and that Juice had finally met his eye, and Chibs couldn't stop the rush of tenderness he felt at the sight of the guy, embarrassed, shy, still wanting something and too scared to ask.

He'd hauled him into his arms, held him close. Been surprised when Juice had surged against him, pushing Chibs against the pool table, his lips insistent on Chibs' own. His hands had cupped Chibs' face and he'd been all strength and desperation, his lips chapped but soft, better than Chibs could ever have imagined.

He's never tried to put a name to whatever it is they are, never allowed it to complicate matters. And Juice has never asked for more than the tiny nothing that Chibs is willing to offer him: the odd shag, in between this chick or that, murmured endearments when he's too drunk to know what he's talking about.

And it's stupid because Juice could have anyone he wants. Look at him, the guy's gorgeous and yet for some reason he's chosen to ally himself with a mostly drunk Scotsman, living in exile and terrified of the Irish bogeyman.

The thing of it is that Juice never asks anything of anyone, willingly takes what he's given and it never occurs to him that he might be worth so much more. He worships Clay like a father and gets nothing back, he gets hazed by Tig and Happy like he's still a prospect, and snapped at by Gemma like he's the biggest fuck up who ever walked.

All the kid wants is to belong.

So long as he's allowed to stay, he puts up with it all.

It's fucking sad.

It occurs to Chibs that they've all, in their way, let Juice down, him more than any of them. It's time someone put the lad first, showed him he matters, he doesn't need to stay stuck to the bottom of anyone's shoe, has nothing to be ashamed of.

Juice belongs to Chibs as much as Chibs belongs to him.

&&&

Juice drifts off to sleep with Opie silent in the chair next to his bed, wakes up when the nurses jostle him trying to do who cares what, it just hurts. They're brisk and apologetic but really don't seem to realise that his entire body is a mass of pain and he'd be quite happy just left alone. He wriggles free of their cold hands and lies back, panting, wishing they would give him more drugs, or better drugs, or that Chibs was here.

Of course, he isn't, he's away, hopefully getting some sleep. Juice knows he's being selfish wanting the other man with him all the time. Knows that he's kidding himself that they're like it was before. He knows that as soon as he's well, Chibs will ebb away again and he'll be on his own.

&&&

Chibs takes a deep breath and steps into the cool of the club house.

He's not been here since they found Juicy.

Clay's in the Teller Morrow workshop, but Chibs knows that Jax will be here and he'd rather tell him first.

He takes off his shades, could do with a drink but knows he needs to do this straight.

Jax catches the look on his face and beckons him into the chapel, where they can talk undisturbed.

Chibs' cut feels heavy on his back. He tries to imagine what it'll feel like not to wear it.

He doubts it will be a relief.

'The other day when you asked me what was wrong...' he begins and Jax nods once. 'It's...' and he falters, takes a breath, really wishes he'd had that drink.

Jax pauses, stares hard, reaches over to a shelf behind him and comes back with a bottle of sour mash and two shot glasses.

'Fuck, that's good...' The liquid gives a satisfying burn as it slides down Chibs' throat, Dutch courage.

'How long?' Jax asks softly when they've each knocked back a drink and he's poured them both another.

It's a hell of a question.

Chibs could tell him they've been fucking for months.

He could tell him he spent years wanting and wanting, and he'd really tried to do nothing about it.

He could tell him that one of the reasons Fi kicked him out was that she hadn't wanted the humiliation of sharing her husband with lads from the estate.

He could tell him that it's all Shane Michaels' fault, back when he was fifteen and he's never been able to look at close cropped hair and soulful brown eyes without that thud of a feeling he shouldn't be having and certainly won't name.

In the end, he settles for brevity.

'A while.'

'He feels the same?'

'Aye.'

Jax takes another drink, sits back in his chair for a think. 'Anyone else know?'

Chibs could lie, could pretend that Tig never walked in on them but he's never lied to this man before, just the same as he'd never lied to JT. Death before dishonour and all that shite.

'I think Tig might a walked in on us the other week... Not sure how much he saw.'

Jax sighs. 'Christ, man... I never... I never woulda guessed.' He sits forwards in his chair.
'Why do this? Why tell me? You know the club won't take it...'

'No, I know it, brother. I'm acting like an idiot... But, I'm not gonna lie about it.'

'You'd be fucking miserable without this club, you know that, right? You two get cast out, it'll come between you and you'll have nothing.'

'Aye. But I can't see any other way. I owe it to him to try.' Chibs gets to his feet, aged and tired. 'Thank you for hearing me, brother.' He moves to take off his cut,

'Hey, leave that. Look, just let me.... Let me think about this, okay? Don't say anything to anyone about it- not yet, okay?'

Chibs' brow creases in confusion, but he knows when to just shut up and do as he's told.

He leaves the club house with nothing but his conscience resolved.

Only thing that matters right now is Juice.

Chapter Text

Juice wakes again under Tig's cold stare.

Again? He thinks. Really? Wishes it could be Bobby or Opie again, anyone but Tig.

Waking up with Tig next to him brings Juice out in a cold sweat. He wouldn't put it past the guy to pull some kind of stunt, something embarassing or horrible, something he'll never live down.

'Y'know,' Tig turns that creepy eyed stare on Juice and he feels like that kid in the Jungle Book, getting hypnotised by the snake. 'We walked in to that warehouse and you were just hanging there- like you were dead and Chibs just... went! Like everything in him just shut down...'

Juice wonders what he's angling at, what he's trying to say. 'Tig, this isn't-'

'He's in deep over you, man.'

Oh shit!

Not that Tig can really judge anyone on lifestyle choices- Juice has seen the guy eyeing up livestock for fuck's sake, and there's that thing that happened in Oregon a few years back that never gets talked about...

'Tig, look, you got it wrong. It was just a... It's already over. We finished it before the Brotherhood got me. Chibby finished it the day you came to his house.'

Tig just snorts. 'That ain't finished, not for him. Look, kid, it's none of my business where any of you sticks his dick, just remember, this gets out an' it could tear the club in half.'

Juice feels his heart hammering on his busted ribs, bile rising in his throat. 'Will it get out? Tig?'

&&&

Chibs wanders back down the myriad corridors. St Thomas' is only a local hospital, it's tiny and yet Chibs gets lost every time. If he didn't know better, he'd swear they were shifting the wards around just to wind him up.

He shifts the grocery bag in his arms as he pushes his way through yet another set of doors.

Ever since he sat down with Jax, he's felt this weird kind of peace settle on him. He can't take it back now, it's out of his hands. Jax will tell the others or he won't. They'll excommunicate him or they won't. He's survived without the club before, he can do so again, and Juicy.... well, they'll just have to be enough for each other, won't they?

He finds the lad asleep with his ipod playing, recognises the tinny sound of Linkin Park playing through the headphones. He presses a kiss to his temple, strokes one thumb over the perfect skin of his arm and Juice's eyes slowly flicker open, soften at the sight of him, then they narrow.

'Chibby? What did you do?'

Chibs tries for innocence. 'Got you some goodies.' He holds up a packet of Jello. 'Thought this might be easier on your gob...' He starts taking packets out of the bag, holding each up for Juice's inspection. 'Got strawberry... lemon... an'... blue- whatever the fuck flavour blue's meant to be...'

'It's raspberry. Chibs, tell me.'

'Hey, it's alright, you got nothing to worry about.'

'Chibs!' Juice's voice is back, scratchy sounding but there all the same. Raising it just makes him hurt though.

Chibs sighs, slumps his ass down on the mattress even though the nurses in this place will know and yell at him for it and even though any of the Sons could turn up at a given moment, see the two of them looking cosier than two brothers should.

'I told Jax.'

&&&

'Shit! Why the- What'd he say?' Juice feels a chill running up his spine.

'Not much. He didn't really know what to- I don't know Juicy, I had to do something... I can't lie to them.'

'Chibbie, you finished it, remember? So they wouldn't- You didn't want to-' Juice doesn't bother finishing the sentence.

Chibs stares down at his hands, picks at a callus. 'Yeah, I did. Daftest thing I've ever done. All a this that's happened, it's...' He shrugs, presses his palms down into the mattress rather than pick at the callus till it bleeds.

'Jesus, Chibby. You're a fucking idiot.' Juice presses his head back against the pillows, stares up at the ceiling. 'You didn't think to ask me first? Didn't think to tell me that Tig saw us?' Chibs looks away, like he's ashamed of himself. 'You just outed me, outed both of us to the club's VP.'

Chibs gets off the bed, goes for a little wander round the room, stares at the stupid posters about the dangers of Chlamydia, of smoking, of not washing your hands.

Doofus, Juice thinks.

He doesn't say it.

He says instead, 'Babe, can you come here? Please?' He lifts one bandaged hand and Chibs walks back, sits back down before Juice can hurt himself by trying to catch hold of him. 'I didn't mean- I... God this sucks.' Juice isn't good at this stuff. He's not good with words.

Chibs fiddles with the track listing on Juice's ipod, looks fucking miserable. Juice just wants to hold him. He tries to find the words. 'Jesus... Look, Tiggy said something an' it made sense-' Chibs looks up, lips quirking. 'Yeah, yeah, I know, 'news flash', right? But he said that this thing- you an' me, it could split the club.'

Chibs looks anywhere but at Juice. Even though he's not wearing his sunglasses, his eyes are shuttered. Juice rests his wrist on the other man's shoulder, wishes he could just put his arms around the guy, 'I don't want that on me- or on you. You were right, Chibbie, club comes first. We're neither of us ready to be without it...'

Chibs is looking at him like he thinks two and two is six.

'No, shut up thinking for a second- that's not what I'm saying.' He reaches out for Chibs, tries to cup the idiot's cheek in his palm and a sudden rush of heat up his arm stops him dead. 'Ow, ow fuck!'

He wants to die, he wants to fucking die whenever this happens.

'Hey, come on Juicy, deep breaths, nice an' slow... Come on, I got you.' Chibs looks awkward, sitting and rubbing Juice's back, but there's really nothing the man can do until the pain has faded. Then, he'll just yell at him for being so fucking stupid. Tell him to keep still.

Juice blinks back tears and wipes his eyes on his shrugged shoulder as soon as he's able.

He finds that he's turned half way on his side, headphones all tangled up and Chibs' hands soothing on his back.

He wants to lose himself in the space between Chibby's neck and shoulder, just stay there safe and warm forever and ever but he can't move that far without setting it all off again.

Besides, the last thing they need is for anyone to walk in and catch them cuddling.

He settles for lying back with his useless hands in his lap and Chibs shifts to sit beside him, one leg on the bed, boot hanging over the edge, as if that'll stop the nurses from yelling at him...

Chibs places one warm hand on Juice's arm, just above the bandages, waits as his stupid nerves settle down.

'Fucking fingernails!' Juice finally groans. 'Can't believe they pulled my fingernails out- the sick fucks! An' I can't believe it fucking hurts this much!'

Juice knows that beside him, Chibs is rolling his eyes, thinking, 'Yeah that's why it's called torture, genius!'

The two of them slump there in silence for a bit, Juice pulling air into his lungs and Chibs just waiting for him... Finally the pain ebbs from unbearable to just fucking horrible and Juice tries to regain the thread of what he'd been saying.

'I didn't mean I wanted us to stay stopped, I meant I wanted us to stay a secret.'

Beside him he feels Chibs relax, like he's letting out a breath he's been holding for a million years.

'Guess it's a little late for that though...'

'Yeah..' Chibs' fingers rub a gentle pattern over the inside of his wrist. 'Thank you Juicy,' he murmurs like Juice has said something amazing.

Juice can't stop himself from pressing closer down the sides of their bodies, even though it's probably a really bad idea.

Chibs puts an arm around him anyway, presses a kiss to his head, where stubbly hair is starting to grow over the tattoos.

'Need a shave, Juicy,' he murmurs, a smile colouring his words.

Juice closes his eyes, thinks oh well, can't do shit about it now. All they can do is wait for Jax to decide whether or not to kick them both out of the club.

Stupid thing is, Tig wouldn't have told.

Chapter Text

Juice's place looks a little tidier than when he was last here. If he had to guess, he'd say he has Gemma Teller to thank for the clean up.

The broken pieces of his computer and X-box have been stacked up in a box to be thrown out or salvaged, and the couch he busted the night he and Chibs split up, has been replaced.

There's beer in his fridge. and the signed titty shot the Caracara girls presented him with in hospital, as a 'get well soon', has been given pride of place on the mantel piece.

Hap and one of the prospects ferry all of his stuff in from the truck parked outside while Juice limps inside and eases himself onto the couch. Truth be told, he'd like to just be left alone for a while, but the boys are under strict instructions to settle him in first.

Most of his dressings are gone now. His belly's gonna look kind of like centipedes are crawling all over it until the stitches go, then it'll look like a weird road map.

He has a ridiculous number of physio appointments for his stupid leg, and he'll only be able to hobble on it for a while yet. It's better not to think about how long he's gonna be off his bike...

His hands look like they belong to Boris Karloff, and Juice can't do anything with them. The pain doesn't constantly slay him like before, but the bandages are clumsy, and if he tries to do anything with them, the pain spikes and lances up his arms.

He tried taking a piss without help the other day: total disaster. The nurses, quickly losing patience with him, had scowled and shoved as they cleaned up. He thinks they were probably pretty glad to see the back of him when he checked out...

The new couch isn't bad, though- better than his old one. Way better than the chiropractor's nightmare that sits in Chibby's house.

Juice sits back and drifts off.

He wakes to the sound of the front door opening and banging shut, Chibs wandering in like he just spent the afternoon drinking.

From the floor, the prospect who's been babysitting, pokes his head out of the X-box carcass.

'Piss off, shit-head,' Chibs tells him and the prospect jumps up, calls out a goodbye and disappears.

Juice doesn't talk to prospects like that, it pays to be polite. Then again, Chibs' words don't come across as rudeness, not like some of the others...

Maybe it's the accent...

Maybe Juice is just biased...

Now that they're alone, Chibs ruffles the scruffy fuzz on top of Juice's head. 'Jesus lad, we gotta do something about this... It's almost a proper haircut...'

'Yeah. You coming here?' Juice hooks one arm around Chibs' neck from where he sits on the couch, tugs him close enough to nuzzle the soft skin under his chin, hidden away beneath his scratchy beard.

Juice coaxes Chibs over the back of the couch until he's sprawled with his head in Juice's lap and Juice uses his wrist to brush the sunglasses from his eyes to his forehead, scrutinises his drink-flushed face. 'What happened in Lodi?'

Chibs sighs and pillows one hand under his head. 'Ach... Bastards thought they had a lead on Zobelle but, came to nothin'...'

When he says nothing else, Juice prods him, regrets it and swears for a bit. Chibs just rolls his eyes, calls him an idiot.

Then, when the pain has faded from Juice's features, he says, 'Me an' Jax had a chat on the way.'

'And?'

Chibs shrugs, plucks his sunglasses off his forehead and drops them onto the arm rest. 'And nothing. He's comin' over tonight. Don't know what he's decided though.'

'Okay...' Juice rubs his wrist over the other man's cheek and Chibs catches his elbow, turns his arm and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist, peers up at him.

'Hey, it'll be okay. Alright?'

'Sure.' Juice's gut tells him they're both fucked.

&&&

Juice is dozing when Jax shoulders his way in to the house.

Chibs had cajoled Juice into having half a pepperoni pizza fed to him earlier on. Insisted on tucking a towel under his chin like a bib, and generally taken the piss.

Juice thinks it was mainly to take his own mind off what Jax might say. Guy's been working his way through a fair amount of Scotch throughout the evening. He probably doesn't think Juice has noticed but from his spot on the couch, Juice has been watching the liquid in the bottle creep ever lower.

The VP towers over him and tells him he looks like shit, asks if Florence-fucking- Nightingale is looking after him.

Juice just shrugs, says they've not killed each other yet, and Jax laughs, takes a beer from Chibs and seats himself on the arm of the couch. 'Seriously though brother, you need anything, tell me, okay?'

'Yeah, okay, thanks.' Juice doesn't really know what else to say. He wants to know what Jax has decided, dreads the answer at the same time.

&&&

Chibs takes his time moving into the den, trying to put off the inevitable himself.

He seats himself in the hard chair by the remains of Juice's computer equipment. Lights up a cigarette and waves the smoke away from Juice since the kid wasn't smoking while he was in hospital, and Chibs would quite like to keep him free of the cursed things for a bit longer.

Juice doesn't meet his eye.

'Look.' Jax rubs his hands together, presses them briefly over his eyes and not for the first time, Chibs thinks that the guy has a shitty job of it, being the club's VP.

'What Chibs told me, it kinda knocked me back...Look, I don't wanna know details I just need to know that the club still comes first for you two, 'cause if it doesn't-'

&&&

'It comes first.' Juice says straight away.

The club is his family and Chibs, the most trustworthy person Juice has ever known. Loyalty to Chibs and loyalty to the club are one and the same thing.

Chibs though, Chibs says nothing, just blows cigarette smoke and fiddles with something on the desk.

'Brother?' Jax squints over at the Scotsman.

'Chibbie? Come on man, you know it makes sense-'

But Chibs shakes his head. 'I'm sorry VP, I'm not gonna make that promise. Not sure that any of us can.'

Juice holds his breath, the guy's gone too far.

Chibs sighs, puts his cigarette out, rests his elbows on his knees and looks like he's ready to sleep, or to cry, or to just give up. 'You know me, Jackie, you know I'd die for this club. But I won't hurt him, see him hurt for it.'

Juice stares.

Trust Chibs to confront the things Juice is too scared to contemplate. Trust him to put into words the cavernous thudding feeling Juice has when he thinks about the choices one of them could be forced to make in the future. Put the club before Chibs- Juice knows he could never do it.

There's a long, awful silence. Juice pictures Jax storming out, coming back with the others.

They'll take their cuts, burn off their MC tats, put a bullet in their brains and bury them in a shallow grave some place...

'Jesus man, you don't make things easy.' Jax shakes his head and lights a new smoke, contemplates the rose tip. He gets up, paces and braces one hand on the wall.

'Jax, just ignore him, he's tired, he's talking shit-' Jax just holds up one hand and Juice falls silent.

'No, he's right. We all talk about putting the club first but there's some things that are- ' Jax looks like he's realised something awful about himself, takes a long moment to collect his thoughts, then, 'Look, here's what happens. You keep this between the two of you- no one else finds out- ever. Got it?'

Chibs manages a choked sounding 'Aye brother'. Juice can only nod like an idiot- if he tries to talk, he's just gonna start stammering,

Jax's mouth fits into a grim line and he stubs his cigarette out, makes for the door.

'Hey.' Chibs gets slowly to his feet and Juice thinks shut the fuck up, don't make it worse! 'We okay?'

Jax stares at him for a long second, like he hasn't known him his entire adult life, like he's never seen him before.

Juice gets ready to get between the two of them if it gets ugly. He can't do much, just get in the way but it might be all Chibs needs to-

Jax gives a slow nod. 'Yeah... Guess I've been asking something from you that...' He pauses, seems to war with himself for a moment. 'When Cameron took Abel, nothing else mattered, not the club, not even Sack... Club pulled me back- you guys pulled me back.' His eyes meet Juice's for a moment, flicker over to Chibs and then back to the wall. 'Maybe we all gotta accept that sometimes it's not the club that matters, it's the brothers who make it...' He walks over, claps his arms around the Scot. 'Yeah man, we're okay...' He hugs Chibs close for a long moment, then steps back with a snort. 'Just don't try an grope me or anything...'

He pulls away with a grin before Chibs can shove him off, slaps Juice on the forehead. Later, shit-head.' And he's gone.

Chibs stares up at the ceiling. 'Jesus fuckin' Christ...'

&&&

When he finally looks down at Juice, Chibs finds the lad smiling up at him like all his Christmases just came at once. Chibs just collapses back onto the couch and the other man.

&&&

'Oof! Damn, you're heavy.'

'We're okay,' Chibs murmurs. He sounds awed, disbelieving. 'Jesus...'

'Yeah, no thanks to you.' Juice rubs his wrist back over the other man's forehead again, just to take the sting out of his words. 'Hey, get off me. Get me a beer?'

Juice can't actually shove Chibs away, guy's too heavy but Chibs rolls his eyes and gets to his feet anyway. 'Yes, my lord and master...'

A thought occurs to him suddenly, and he pauses at the doorway. 'Hey, look, you alright with all a this?

'All what? The torture, or the getting outed to members of the club, or your dick move with Ima?'

'Aw, shite, are we really gonna-'

'Relax, Chibbie, I'm just messing with you... Although, I really hope you bagged your shit cause-'

'Yeah yeah, fuck off...' Chibs grins and disappears in search of beer.

Chapter Text

Juice really hates Bobby. He hates that the guy comes 'round and brings a goddamned porno, and now he's fucking hard as a rock, which is kind of a surprise because his libido's been on crutches ever since it all happened. And he can't do a fucking thing about it because his stupid hands don't work right and they hurt all the time.

Juice knows this because he's tried, several times now.

He's sitting on his bed with his jeans round his knees and he's gotten lube all over his bandages- which is going to be really embarrassing to explain to the nurse that changes his dressings- and he can't get a good grip and the bandages are all scratchy and his hands hurt like a bitch-

The front door slams and Juicy head-butts his pillow in frustration, waits for the laughter to start.

&&&

Chibs finds the house quiet.

There's a little nest of cake crumbs and beer bottles around one of the easy chairs- probably Bobby- guy was down on Gemma's rota for babysitting Juice today.

He spies a copy of Sorority Girls next to the TV set- Ah, a classic!

Juice's seat on the sofa is empty.

Hm.

'Juicy?' He walks down the short dark corridor that leads to the bedroom, taps on the door.

'Don't come in!'

Chibs just rolls his eyes, slowly presses the door open and peers around it.

The room's in half darkness but Chibs can just make out the shape of Juicy curled up under the duvet. 'You alright?'

'M' fine,' Juice sniffs, turns his face away but Chibs can see tell tale wet on his cheeks.

'Hey, come on, what's wrong?' He seats himself beside the other man, notices that Juicy squirms away, won't meet his eye. Chibs has a moment of clarity. 'Good movie, was it?'

'Go to hell.'

Chibs hides his smile and turns to sit shoulder to shoulder with Juice on the bed, kicks his boots off and gently tugs the duvet away from the younger man. 'I take it Little Juan's made a comeback then?'

&&&

'Would you shut up?' Juice feels like an idiot. He has no idea why he's embarrassed at Chibs catching him jacking off- trying to jack off- failing to jack off.

He stops fighting the other man and lets him duck in close, wrap his arms around his neck and kiss the side of his head where his tattoos are newly shaven and on show. 'An' don't call him 'little'!'

Chibs snorts and then his lips find Juice's and it no longer matters that Juice is blushing bright red. 'I take it Bobby's fucked off?'

'Yeah, he took a comfort break in my bathroom and then went home to sleep it off...'

Chibs smells like he's been working hard all day. There's grease on his cheek and under his nails. Juice just buries his face in the space between his neck and shoulder, lets himself be petted.

Chibs hand slides down into the space between the duvet and Juice's body, finds his half hard and strokes gently, then a little more firmly when Juice shivers. 'Let's see if we can't do something about this swelling, shall we?'

Chibs ghosts kisses over his face, pulls him closer so he's turned to face him and Chibs can get a better grip. His hand slides down to cup Juice's balls and Juice groans, shifts his legs to give him access.

The room is quiet, but for the soft sounds of flesh on flesh and Juice's shuddering breaths. He presses his face to Chibs' chest, clutches his shirt as best he can with his bandaged fingers.

'Don't tease,' he mutters, gnawing at the fabric of Chibs' shirt and wrapping his arms around his middle, holding as best he can without upsetting his stupid hands again.

He feels Chibs shake his head and then there are lips at his ear, hot breath making him melt and Chibs' hand slides back up to his cock. His hips fall into the slow rhythm Chibs' hand is setting.

Chibs' lips work their way down the side of his throat and then back up again to the little spot below his ear that makes him whine. 'Wish you could see yourself right now, Juicy... so fuckin' hot like this...'

Juice's orgasm is slow coming, Chibs wringing it out of him with soft words and firm strokes. Juice sags against him, gasps into the damp fabric of Chibs' shirt.

He can't tell whether the thudding sound in his head is his own heartbeat or Chibs'. The other man presses a kiss to the top of his head, cuddles him close and tucks the duvet around both them.

'Hey, you need to-'

'Nah, it'll keep.' Chibs sounds contented as anything slumped against Juice's pillow with the younger man curled up in his arms.

Juice's eyes start to drift closed, lulled by the warm quiet.

'You know if you'd asked, one a the Caracara girls would probably've helped you out...' Chibs shifts, probably for a cigarette.

'Wasn't the porno that did it- not just the porno.'

'No?'

&&&

Juice shrugs, his face hidden away under Chibs' chin, the way it always is when he thinks he's in danger of saying something stupid. 'No, just... stuff...'

He gives another little shrug and Chibs smiles fondly. 'Ah.... So, you gonna enlighten me then Juicy? Tell me what it was got you all hot n' bothered?'

Juicy shakes his head, mutters 'No fuckin' way' against his chest.

&&&

Chibs gives a loud bark of laughter, calls him a jessie and Juice just grins. He closes his eyes, drifts into sleep to the muttered grumblings Chibs makes about the state of his bandages.

His hands barely hurt at all right now. Maybe they'll be able to take the bandages off soon.

Of course, more than anything, he needs to be back on his bike but that's gonna have to wait a while longer.

For now, he's content enough with his life. He's safe and so's Chibby.

Only two of the Sons know about them and neither one is going to say anything.

He compiles a little 'to do' list in his head: things to do next, in order:
Get his leg healed.
Get back on his bike.
Hunt down that fucker, Zobelle so they can all take turns killing him.

First on the list though, he owes Chibs a hand job...