Hello, Sons Fandom! :) This is my first SOA fic and I plan to follow along all four seasons. I'm trying my best to eliminate copying the dialogue verbatim from the show because I assume that you've all seen it and love it and don't need to read it again…though sometimes its necessary, I'm trying my best to avoid it!
Please feel free to tell me honestly what you think about it! Be as critical as necessary and I'll try to change the things you don't like and improve the story!
Anyways, this story starts out in Season 1 episode 2, "Seeds"…
I took the title from the Maroon 5 album/song because I thought it was sort of fitting and fun and I love that whole album. ;)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC!
Hands All Over
Chapter 1: First Sight
By Love Ink
The first thing Juice noticed as they pulled up to the funeral home was the girl leaning up against the hearse blowing bright blue bubbles with her gum. She was dressed formally, a black vest over a low cut white tank top with black slacks. Her dark hair was braided away from her face, the long plait hanging over her shoulder, its end just brushing across her cleavage. One manicured eyebrow lifted up over her mirrored aviators when she caught him looking, a small smirk pulling up the corner of her full lips. He wondered what a hot girl like her was doing in a funeral home of all places. Chibs called his name, pulling him from his study. With a small hop, he chased after the rest of the guys into the room with the incinerator where Skeeter was working, catching one last glimpse of her as he closed the doors behind him.
He stood near the door as Jax and Chibs took the lead on the conversation, still thinking about the girl outside. A few parts of the conversation stood out to him, the part about Skeeter being done with gambling and not wanting their money especially. Jax was able to work something out though, seemed the creepy old guy wanted some pussy more than money. Skeeter informed them where they could find the bodies they needed; one was already six feet under.
"You mean we gotta dig it up?" the Prospect asked apprehensively.
Jax smirked. "Who said anything about 'we'?"
Skeeter grinned widely and headed towards the door. He nodded at the girl who was still leaning against the hearse. "Ang! Come over here a sec," he called out to her.
She pushed herself off of the black car, popping the bubble with a snap before heading over. Juice didn't miss the sexy swing of her hips as she walked, nor did he miss the sliver of tan skin that peeked out between where the bottom of her tank top ended and her pants began. He could just make out a bright splash of ink across the skin of her hip. He stared at it, trying to figure out what it was. " 'Sup Skeet?" she asked, her voice light as she pushed her sunglasses into her hair. Her dark brown, almost black, eyes surveyed each of them quickly before she looked back at Skeeter. If she noticed Juice staring, she didn't say anything.
"Guys, this is my apprentice, Angela," he introduced casually. He didn't say their names and she didn't ask. "Ang, I need you to drive this gentleman here to the Morales grave. Need to exhume him for somethin'. I got a body in the oven, think you can help?"
"Exhume? Fuck, Skeet, we just buried him. I'm not gonna do it again," she replied on a scowl.
"Don't worry about it, Ang. We got the Prospect here to do that shit for ya," Jax reassured her with a smile.
She studied him for a brief moment, her dark brown eyes hesitant before she nodded. "Fine," she muttered, grabbing a shovel and thrusting it at Half-Sack. "Follow me, Prospect."
Jax hung back with Chibs and Juice, all eyes on her as she got into the burgundy colored van with the Prospect. "Can we trust her?"
"Who? Angie?" Skeeter questioned. At Jax's nod, he shrugged. " 'Course you can. Might want to give her a tip though, if you know what I mean. She gets pissy with shit like this."
He nodded, taking a few bills out of the envelope they were going to give to Skeeter anyway. "We'll give it to her when's she's done. Thanks, Skeeter. We'll be back in a later."
Angela nodded towards the pile of dirt that was surrounded by flowers. The grave was so fresh; the headstone hadn't even been installed yet. "See how flat that grave is? You know how fuckin' hard that is to do?" she asked, leaning against a nearby headstone. At Half-Sack's blank look, she rolled her eyes. "Have at it. Go 'head. Ruin all the hard work I did."
Half-Sack sighed as he dug his shovel into the dirt. "This is so wrong," he muttered more to himself than to her. "So wrong."
She bobbed her head in agreement. "What do you need a dead Mexican for anyway?"
"Club business," he explained on a grunt as he started a pile of dirt. He glanced at her, head quirked to the side. "You gonna stay here and watch me the whole time?"
"Yep. Quality control."
He sighed again. "Awesome," he mumbled sarcastically. "So you dig graves?"
She shook her head. "Nope. I fill 'em sometimes when we're backed up. I'm a mortician. I make the dead guys pretty."
"Pretty…" he repeated, watching as she took a folded knife out of the waistband of her slacks and unfolded it, cleaning her fingernails with its tip.
"Yep," she said, blowing another bubble gum bubble. "Like yesterday, we had this guy who shot himself in the face. I put some putty in there, glued it together. You couldn't even tell."
The Prospect greened a little at her description. "Gross."
She chuckled in response. One of her favorite things to do was describe her job and see peoples' reactions to it. She didn't stop until they looked like they were going to be sick. Unfortunately, the Prospect hadn't lasted very long. She sighed. "So you got a name other than the Prospect?"
He nodded, grunting as he tossed another shovel full of dirt onto a pile. "Half-Sack."
"That the name your Mama gave you?" she questioned, one eyebrow arched over her eyes.
He shook his head. "Nah, its Kip."
"That's much better," she said on a smile. "Do the guys you were with have funny names too?"
"Jax, Chibs, and Juice," he answered on a nod. "It's a club thing. Like they have real names but…I don't know. We all have nicknames. 'cept Clay. He's just Clay."
She thought about reminding him she had no idea who he was talking about, but decided against it. It was obvious not many people actually listened to him. "Weird," she mused to herself. She unbuttoned her vest, hanging it on the grave she was leaning against before stretching out on the ground next to where he was working. At his questioning glance, she shrugged. "Might as well get a tan while you work. I may work with dead people, but I don't have to be pasty like one."
Sack laughed, shaking his head at her. "I'm gonna fuckin' burn."
"That's what happens when you're a ginger," she teased, blowing another bubble. She frowned when she realized it was out of flavor.
He caught her flicking the gum into his dirt pile and raised an eyebrow. "Ain't that like sacrilegious? You're trashing this guy's grave."
"He's not going to be in there much longer," she said, shrugging as she pulled out a packet of Nicorette gum. The foil crinkled as she popped out a square and stuck it in her mouth. "Plus, you're the one digging up his grave. If anyone's being sacrilegious it's you."
After about an hour, Angela heard Half-Sack hit the wood of the coffin and grinned. Getting up from her prone position, she sat down at the edge of the grave, dangling her legs into the six foot hole. The Prospect looked up at her warily which only made her grin. "He's not going to jump out at you," she teased.
"He smells," he complained, looking up at the grinning girl. "I thought he was embalmed. They supposed to smell like that?"
She shrugged a shoulder. "Embalming stalls the decomp process, it doesn't stop it," she explained. "The heat doesn't help either."
"Fantastic," Half-Sack muttered to himself as he began digging around the box. It took another few minutes before he got it cleared enough to open the coffin. He shook his head, hating his life when he saw what the man inside looked like. "That's great. That's great. Not only do you stink, but you're a fat bastard."
This earned him a chuckle from Angela whom, he guessed, already knew what he was getting into. He was about to comment when Chibs' loud voice shouted, " 'Ey beware the zombie bikers!"
Her laugh grew louder when he jumped like a scared kid. "Jesus Christ, you scared the piss out of me," Half-Sack muttered, glaring at the Scottish man.
Angela smiled as the biker with the Mohawk sat down beside her. He gave her a quick grin before jumping down into the hole. "Who's your friend?" he asked, clapping Half-Sack on the shoulder while looking at the dead guy.
"It's really bad karma digging up a grave," Half-Sack said nervously.
"Nah, as long as it's not your grave, karma's just fine," the blonde commented.
The Mowhawked one looked down at the big guy in the coffin. "So, how we gonna get him out?"
"I think we're gonna need a tow truck," the Scot replied.
Angela shook her head. "Nah. I got it," she said maneuvering her legs out of the hole to stand. She was surprised when the blonde biker extended a hand to help her up. She muttered her thanks before wiping her dirty hands on her pants. "We use a CLD to get them down there. I'm sure it can be used to get him out. Want to help me get it, Scotty?"
Chibs raised an eyebrow at Jax who chuckled and nodded. Pushing himself off the ground, he followed the girl towards the funeral home. "Name's Chibs, not Scotty."
"Nice to meet you," she said, turning around and walking backwards so she could face him. "I'm right though, you're Scottish not Irish."
He nodded. "Aye."
"Win," she proclaimed with a smile and a pump of her fist.
Chibs gave her a crooked smirk. She was on odd one, this girl. "What's a CLD?"
She opened the back of the van, happy she had forgotten to take the CLD out before giving the Prospect a ride. "A Coffin Lowering Device," she explained, grabbing the metal bar and pulling it out of the car with a grunt. He grabbed the other end before it could hit the ground. It was heavier than he expected it to be, but she didn't seem to have a hard time managing it. "Okay put it down around the hole," she instructed, before looking at the contraption. "I'm thinking it could if we use it lower those things down there, who's to say it can't lift them back up?"
"Sounds good to me," Chibs commented on a shrug. "Better than a goddamn tow truck at least."
With her careful instruction from above, all four guys managed to get the coffin on the straps. "Great. Now one of you needs to come up here and crank this sucker up."
Juice was out of the hole and ready in seconds. Anything to help out the pretty girl. He put all his strength into cranking that little handle, fighting off a grin when he caught her looking at his arms. Little by little, the coffin raised until the guys were able to easily move it onto the ground beside the hole. Juice rubbed his sweaty hands on the thighs of his jeans.
Jax nodded to the girl, clapping a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Good idea, Ang."
She shrugged a shoulder. "Thanks. You might want to pull whatever you're putting him in around so you can just dump him. I'll get you a bag."
Juice watched her head back into towards the car, once again noticing the confident swing of her hips as she walked. "Cool chick," he said, turning to look at Jax and Chibs. "Weird, but cool."
"She's got nice tits too," Chibs put in with a smirk. "You interested, Juicy boy?"
He grinned in response, nodding his head. "A little bit," he admitted shamelessly. "You gotta admit she's hot."
Jax chuckled, shaking his head at his brother. "Have at it, bro," he said handing him an envelope filled with money. "Give her the whole thing. I'm sure she'll like you even more."
"Awesome," he said on a chuckle. As Chibs, Jax, and Half-Sack started loading the dead body into the Suburban, Juice approached the strange girl, extending the envelope to her. "That's for having to hang out with Sack all day."
She smiled, opening the envelope and flipping through the cash. "Thanks…" she paused awkwardly, unsure if this one was Juice or Jax.
"Juice," he filled in with a big goofy grin.
"Juice," she repeated, shoving the envelope into the back pocket of her jeans. "This is some weird shit you guys are doing."
He nodded, glancing back at where Half-Sack was groaning under the weight of the dead guy. "Not something we do every day, I swear," he assured her. "Which is why your silence would be much appreciated."
"Oh, don't worry about that," she said with a wave of her hand. "This isn't that exciting of a story to tell. Just make sure your Prospect gets back with time to fill up that hole. I just finished scraping the dirt out of my fingernails."
She left him wondering what was an exciting story to tell in her book. He bet she had all kinds of them since she worked with dead people and all. "Will do," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Nice to meet you, Angel."
Angela opened her mouth to correct him then decided against it. She didn't mind the way the nickname sounded coming from the attractive man's lips. "You too, Juice. You guys have my number if you need anything else, right?"
"Maybe I'll take it down again," he said, pulling out his personal phone. "Just so I have it."
So? Good? Bad? Ugly?
I love and welcome all kinds of feedback! :)