I'm giving an SOA story a shot...I usually stick to smutty fluff pieces about vampires or forensic anthropologists, but this has been naggin' me. If you like it, lemme know and I'll finish it off.
I don't own any of these fuckers, but I wish I did...MKAngelus
Jax dropped the socket wrench and shook his knuckles; this was the second time he'd barked his knuckle trying to get the damn bolt loose. He was checking the skinned flesh when he heard a giggle behind him and then, "Fuck" repeated in a high pitched voice. Turning quickly he squashed a grin as he raised his eyebrows at Abel, "Hey dude, let's keep that between you and me okay? I don't need your mama hearing that come out of your mouth okay?"
Abel grinned at his dad; he was standing against the edge of the play pen, his blonde faux hawk drooping slightly in the heat, his Teller Morrow work shirt unbuttoned to show a SAMCRO tank top underneath. Ink aside, he was the spitting image of his father.
"Speaking of keeping things between the two of you, how about you explain what the hell that noise is on the radio?" The barely audible strains of top forty pop hits sung by 16 year old boys that sounded like 12 year old girls warbled from the grimy garage box.
Jax looked over towards the office and smiled at his friend, Opie. Putting his index finger against his lips he pointed over to the car seat in the shade where his other son, Wyatt was sleeping. His baby fine hair also in a miniature faux hawk, he was clutching a blue checked dog. Opie winked and nodded sarcastically, stepping closer to where Jax was now leaning on the motorcycle he was working on, they both lit cigarettes. "Sure man, the baby likes it, whatever works." He said, his eyes twinkling. Jax knew he'd never hear the end of it, having grown up with Harry 'Opie' Winston, he knew when it was best to just let him ride him until he got bored.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jax asked, trying to change the topic. "I thought you and the prospects were pulling those repos?"
"Yeah, I pawned it off on them. What the hell is the point in having prospects if you can't make them to all the fucking work once in a while?" He exhaled and continued, "I didn't know you'd be on bitch duty though, where's Neeta?"
"Neeta is visiting her nephew in Lodi, and since your old lady and mine are in Vegas right now, I had the choice of Gemma watching them or me. I decided that I'd give her the day off, its slow here, Clay and Tig and Bobby are upstate, things are quiet." He stopped and took a drag off his cigarette and looked towards the back of the garage, "For now anyway."
Opie was facing the bay door and stepped away from the motorcycle, dropping his cigarette onto the concrete floor, he said, "Well, things are about to get a whole lot louder my brother, look." Nodding towards the door, Jax turned around and saw someone he'd hoped he'd seen the last of. "Holy shit, what the fuck is she doing here?" He muttered under his breath.
"Dunno man, when was the last time you saw her?" The two men watched the slender blonde climb out of the cab of the extended cab pickup and make her way towards them.
"Fuck, when the little man was a couple of months old, I told her to get some time under her belt in fuckin' rehab and then we'd talk. Never heard from her again, and to be honest, never thought of her with all the rest of the shit that went down, between Ireland, Tara and Wyatt." He flicked the last of his cigarette out the door and grabbed a rag wrapping it around his hand as he walked out to greet her. "Keep an eye on the boys, would ya?" He tossed over his shoulder at Opie who nodded.
"Wendy." Jax said, his tone conveying wariness as well as confusion at seeing the woman who nearly killed his son and herself, and who he hadn't heard from in over two years.