' never doubt i love.

❝ you know, i’m not entirely sure that’s what sugar does. ❞

she knows he’s teasing, so she teases back in return, the smile lifting her lips; emilie’s okay, it’s nothing more than a little play gone wrong, she’ll get over it, and the thought of ice cream has more than perked her up again. it’s not the man’s fault — and at least he’s telling his son that it was wrong. some parents wouldn’t do that.

following the man, emilie still perched on her knee, she pauses as they reach the truck.

❝ um, i didn’t catch your name? i’m layla. ❞

‘ i guess my kid’s just a little crazy then, hm? ‘ 

it’s a short walk from the park to the ice cream truck that’s posted over by the cars, and god it’s been a long time since he’s seen anything  remotely close to an ice cream truck. for some time he figures they’ve  been extinct, or maybe he’s just been too trapped in his own outlaw  world to remember that innocence still reigns for the rest of charming. 

‘ ah, right. jax teller, ‘ 

“Thanks. Do I get a name in return?”

        She’s still hesitant, despite his insistence, but eventually she         slips one hand through the handle of her mug, and cups it          with the other. A tired sigh falls from her lips as she finally         relaxes back into her seat. She’s too young to feel this weary.

 “My boss gives me hell for just about anythin’. It’s inavoidable,   so I guess… If he’s gonna find somethin’ to yell about anyway,   I might as well have some fun first.”

“Jax. Jax Teller. Nice to meet you.” 

       It doesn’t occur to him until she asks that he hasn’t said his name.         Pretentious as it may be, he feels as if everyone knows it by now; he’s         residential troublemaker and all. He’s sure, though, that she can pick up         his status by a simple glance at the patch on his kutte reading ‘PRESIDENT’         and the reaper that haunted the leather of his back behind him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, if he starts yelling at anyone, it ain’t  gonna be you. You can have my word on that.” 

❝ okay, okay, you’ve twisted my arm. ❞

not that it took much twisting, really, not with the way that emilie has forgotten her tears and is now practically tugging at layla’s sleeve to get her to go over to the truck. layla’s weak; she wants to give emilie what she wants.

❝ thank you. my sweet tooth thanks you, too. ❞

‘ it’s nothin’. kids these days, they’re always changing  their moods. ice cream helps regulate. ‘ 

he’s kidding, of course. there’s even a smirk on his lips to  prove it. though he wouldn’t be surprise if she finds his humor  more mischievous than harmless. it’s unintentional, but he  just tends to come off as a troublemaker. blame the kutte or  just his upbringing, but he tries his best. 

‘ c’mon, thomas! we’re gonna get you some ice cream and  you’re apologizing to the poor girl again. ‘ 

      The sudden disturbance of the quiet night forces her        to wake. It only took him a moment to react, climbing        out of bed despite her attempt to reach out for him.        Maybe it was nothing, but with this life, it was never nothing.         When he pulls out his gun, she can’t help but to feel         uneasy yet safe all the same. He will protect her, she         knew that, but he knew all too damn well that she         wouldn’t hang back.

“What are you going to do?” she whispers, but he simply walks out.

      She follows suit, quietly walking to his side, her hand         on his back. She listens, stepping back but nothing         too far. She needs to be close to him.

“Look in the peephole.”

He doesn’t have to answer. In the back of his mind, he knows  she knows. If it comes to it, there won’t be a bullet wasted, a  second spared. Death comes as easy as life does, and these are the measures he’s willing to take. She hasn’t seen it, but  deep down he knows she feels it there; what he’ll do to keep her  safe. Keep his family safe. 

      They pass by Abel’s bedroom. He’s asleep. There’s no use in         waking him up just yet, in case this is nothing. Jax hopes to God         it’s nothing.

Clutching the 9mm in his hand, he looks out into the peephole as Rory suggests; in the darkness, underneath the anemic light of  their porch lamp, he sees a frame. Tall, lanky. The stench of alcohol  reeks from the outside in. Voice barely there, he looks over his  shoulder at her.

       “It’s Kyle.”

Jane reaches up to where her name tag should be, and then sighs, shaking her head. Stupid. She knew that she’d forgotten something this morning. Though she supposes that’s a good thing; the tag reads ‘Jane Marie’, and she hates being called  that.

         “Janey. Or Jay. I’m fine with either. You’re with those           guys. The, uh… The Sons. Sons of Something.”

She doesn’t touch the coffee, because she secretly still feels awful that he’s spent money on her. Instead, she folds her hands in her lap.

        “My boss is gonna give me hell for this.”

      “Janey. That’s cute. I haven’t heard that one in a while.” 

He clears his throat before taking a sip of his coffee. He takes it  black; it wakes him up a bit more, blends in with the taste of his  cigarettes. Bitter with bitter somehow makes it all sweet. 

      “Sons of Something has a ring to it, but it’s Anarchy.         Or SAMCRO, if you’re lazy.” 

He notices the way she’s avoiding her coffee, so he shoves the cup  closer to her, nodding his head a bit. 

she gives him a smile as emilie immediately perks up at the sound of ice cream (and who can blame her, really; layla loves the treat  just as much).

❝ oh, you really don’t have to do that. kids will be kids. ❞

‘ it’s fine, let me. look at how your kid just  lit up like christmas lights. ‘ 

he chuckles softly, motioning over to an ice cream  truck that just pulled up. how convenient. 

“Oh!”

      She hadn’t entertained that possibility, not even for a second.       Jane knows she’d get in trouble for it, even though it’s a quiet       day – but a break just sounds so appealing. Shifting from one       foot to another, she glances around, makes sure all the tables       are clean before she slides into the seat opposite him.

                “My boss is gonna kill me. Sorry for being a bitch                   about the smoking, too. I feel like I should’ve just                   let you do it, now.”

He shakes his head, a chuckle leaving his lips. She’s young,  probably hasn’t had much on her plate other than this job. In some  ways, her youth’s envious; he remembers when he used to be  that way, dropped out of high school and took up a job at TM to get by, buy some gas, save up for his bike. Less worries, then. 

           “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Nobody’s gonna kill you.              What’s your name, darlin’?” 

“You just give me a minute, honey.”

She doesn’t bother writing his order down. It’s simple enough. He gets a smile from her before she turns away again, snagging that final slice of pie before another waitress can get a hold of  it. Extra cream, and two coffees too, and she balances it all on a tray to take it back to him. 

        “Somebody joining you for the second coffee?           Sure they won’t want something to eat, too?”

“I don’t know - you hungry?” 

    And it’s a sly dig, but he wants her to join him. He’s not quite      sure why, though he’s keen for some company, and she looks      like she needs a break anyway. What she would want to do with      a biker, he doesn’t know, but not everything needs a definite      answer. He motions for her to sit across from him. 

she lifts emilie onto her lap – who promptly buries her face in mummy’s shoulder – and murmurs into her hair for a moment before looking at the guy.

❝ she’ll be fine. kids are really resilient, you know? ❞

‘ right, yeah. i know. ‘ 

    he reaches down to ruffle thomas’ blond hair in his      fingers before the kid runs off back to the swings. jax’s      eyes fix back onto the brunette, lips wrought into a      sympathetic smile. 

Well, thank god he didn’t make it difficult for her. Jane gives the other a smile, though it’s tired, weary. Twelve hours on her feet have turned a normally sunny face a little sour. She takes the glass back to the counter, and exchanges it for a menu.

         “Uh—- We’ve only got one slice of cherry left, so if you           want that, you’ve gotta act fast. Think that guy has his           eye on it, too.”

She nods towards a newcomer, and sets the menu down in  front of him. 

        “Then you better make sure I get it before he does,           yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a smirk on his lips, a bit mischievous now, as he gestures his lifted eyebrows over to the remnants of a once-glorious cherry pie,  sitting pretty underneath a glass case. He flips towards the menu  for a moment before setting it down. 

God. It’s been a tough enough day, and if there’s one thing that Jane isn’t in the mood for, it’s those damn motorcycle thugs breaking all the rules. It happens way too often for her to just let it slide, and if she doesn’t deal with it, her boss will yell again. With a sigh, Jane grabs an empty glass for him to put the cigarette out in, and goes over to put it on his table.

      “’M sorry, sir, but y’can’t smoke in here.”

It’s been a long day, and as much as he wants a smoke, he  wants peace of mind more. Besides, starting trouble in a small  time diner isn’t really his thing; he’s meant for bigger pictures,  larger chaos. He sighs, taking in one final drag of his cigarette  before he singes the end of it inside the empty glass. With  lifted eyebrows and a smile (though it’s a bit sarcastic), he pushes the glass over. 

“Christ. You hear that?” 

     Scarred knuckles rub against tired eyes, and he struggles       to wake up from deep sleep. Tentatively, and reluctantly, he       sits up, peeling her up from his shoulder. Someone’s knocking       on the door. Stay here, he mumbles, standing up and reaching       for his gun on the night stand. It’s a quiet evening, save for the      rampage going on outside. Careful steps lead him out to the       door, though he’s sure she’s following somewhere behind him;       she never could stay away for long.