Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Come With Me Tonight	By : copperleaves Category: S through Z > Sons of Anarchy Views: 2633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Sons of Anarchy, and I'm sure as hell not making any money off of this. I do own Olivia Gable and any characters associated with her history.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
We're still in season three. The next two chapters take place in the two days before/day of that whole big "kill Stahl and Jimmy O" thing.

what about the girl who ran?

she ran so far away she could never find her way back home again

she tripped and fell and broke her heart

now the only thing she does well is fall apart!

Bob Schneider, "C'mon Baby"
It was probably the stupidest decision she'd ever made in her life (especially in light of Tara's kidnapping, for fuck's sake), but she stayed.
She had tried, in the weeks since their return from Ireland, to integrate herself into the club a little more. She didn't hide out in the garage as much. She'd offered to chip in at the next club gathering. She couldn't cook, of course—no one wanted that—but she could do other things. Help set up. Clean up afterwards. Whatever they needed, really, because she'd realized sometime during the nearly two weeks that the bulk of the club was away that Chibs had been right: she was scared shitless, and had been for five years.
She'd known it on some basic, visceral level, but it had never been stated so baldly before. She was tired of being scared. Tired of running. Tired of letting her abuser control her life even after she'd pumped three bullets into him. And so she stayed and, in staying, tried to stop looking over her shoulder.
When she'd told Juice she didn't have anywhere else to go it was only partly true: she had friends who had friends, and plenty of people would take her in. She had skills, after all, and a lot of people were in the market for a good mechanic.
Or a good plumber, apparently, since at the moment she was in the clubhouse bathroom trying to beat some sense into the sink. She'd overheard Chucky complaining about it and had (for some reason) volunteered to take a look. Stupid. She had no clue what was wrong with it, but clearly she was going to need some backup.
She poked her head around the door and looked around. All clear. She sighed and wandered down the hall. There was no answer to her knock on the office door. She rolled her eyes and peeked into the bar. Well. Perfect. Somehow they hadn't run into each other since the club's return, and she couldn't imagine that was an accident. He had to be avoiding her. Which was fine, she supposed, except she was kind of sick of it.
"Um. Hi," she said and shuffled out of the hallway.
Her voice and sudden appearance startled him, and for a moment he juggled the laptop in his hands. It made it safely to the bar and he bit back a curse. "Fuck, Liv, don't you know better than to sneak up on people?"
She pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle a giggle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sneak." She stepped closer and smiled a little. "I haven't seen you since you've been back. How was Ireland?"
"Cold. Rainy. Shit food." He shrugged. "Chibs warned me."
"Such a whiner, Ortiz," she said with a grin.
He cut his eyes her way and frowned a little. He was surprised she had stayed, truth be told. Chibs had told him about their conversation in the parking lot that night, and Juice fully expected her to bolt. He guessed maybe she'd meant it when she said she didn't have anywhere else to go.
"What?" she said. "What's that face?"
"Nothing," he said with a shake of his head. "I just—I guess I'm relieved you're here."
"Ohh," she said and rocked back on her heels. "You thought I'd run, huh?"
He hitched a shoulder. "It occurred to me, yeah."
Her mouth twisted and she nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it's my MO."
"A pattern, like," he said.
"Um hum."
A silence fell and neither of them would look at the other. Juice pretended to mess with the computer and she tucked her hands in her pockets. She'd left her work shirt in the bathroom and was wearing a white tank top and jeans with her usual scuffed black boots. The freckles on her arms had once fascinated him, but now he tried to avoid even noticing them.
"So," he said.
"Yup."
He cleared his throat. "You still seein' that girl from Lo Di?"
"Not the way you mean, no." She paused. "You still fuckin' Dana?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. "I was never fucking Dana," he said through gritted teeth.
"Good," she said.
He glared at her. "You know, Liv, you've got a lot of nerve offering an opinion on who I can and can't fuck."
"I'm not offering an opinion," she snapped. "I just think she's bad news, that's all. Pick literally anyone else in the clubhouse and I won't have a goddamn thing to say."
His lips twisted. "Anyone, Olivia? Even you?"
"You know what I mean, Juice. Don't be a dick."
He looked away with a frown between his brows. "I'm sorry. That was a shitty thing to say."
"It's okay," she said. "I probably deserved it."
He glanced up and gave a sharp shake of his head. "No. You didn't."
She absorbed this in silence. His eyes were wary, a little sad, and part of her wanted to close the distance between them and—
And what?
Nothing. She shouldn't even be thinking that way. She ran a hand over her face and smiled wanly. "I don't wanna fight with you, Juice. I came out here because I need some help with this fucking sink."
It wasn't what he expected. "What sink?"
"The one in the bathroom." She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "I said I'd take a look at it because it was acting funky and now I think I'm in over my head."
"I don't know anything about plumbing, Liv."
"That's okay," she said. "I really just need an extra set of hands." She hesitated. "If you're not busy…?"
"Uh. Yeah, no." He shut the lid on the laptop and slid off the stool. "I was just ordering some shit."
"What kind of shit?" she said as they started down the hall.
"SAMCRO stuff. Shirts and hats."
"What, like on CafePress? You just go on there and design SAMCRO merch?"
"Yeah, kinda." He smoothed his face. "I tried asking elves to make it, but I didn't have a firstborn to offer, so—"
"Oh, shut up."
He hid a grin and slipped past her into the bathroom as she held the door for him. It was a tight space, and she had to close the door behind them so they would both fit. She smiled a little, awkwardly, and kicked aside a wrench.
"Don't trip on all my shit."
"It looks like a toolbox exploded in here." The sink was partially disassembled and tools were scattered everywhere. It wasn't like her to keep a messy work space, and he could see her frustration in the disorder.
"Yeah," she said. "It's been kinda hellish."
"So, uh, what do you need me to do?"
She took a deep breath. "Um. So, I mean. I think there are a few things I don't have to explain to you. About—about not liking anyone at my back."
His brow furrowed but he nodded. "Yeah…?"
"Well then. Appreciate what's about to happen." She stepped up to the sink and gestured him closer. "You're gonna need to hold this," she said and pointed. She grabbed his hand and tugged. "Closer. I don't bite."
He shuffled forward a few steps until his body brushed hers. "Sorry. I didn't want to—"
"No, thank you. It's okay."
Her hand was warm against his, and he marveled for a moment at the softness of her skin; the sharp contrast in tone from his; the elegance of her long fingers. He'd forgotten. He'd been glad he'd forgotten. Their eyes met and held in the mirror, and he thought she could read everything on his face. Her cheeks went pink and she looked away. Brought his attention back to the sink.
"Here," she said. "Just like that and don't let go."
Without thinking, he brushed his nose against her hair. She'd changed her shampoo. Instead of mint and lavender, now it reminded him of the beach. Not coconut, but…the sea. Salt and wind and sun.
"Hey," she said. "You listening?"
He blinked and realized she'd been giving him instructions the whole time. "What? Oh, yeah. Hold this closed until you say. Then turn it clockwise. Got it."
"Great." She dropped to her knees, a little stiffly, and he stared down at her in consternation.
When he'd woken up that morning he never would've imagined that by three o'clock Olivia Gable would be on her knees in front of him in the bathroom. He tried to wipe his brain clean, but it was no use. Instead he concentrated on the complex braids on the crown of her head. He attempted to follow individual strands with his eyes, and the task was just taxing enough to keep him focused.
She'd asked him in here to help with the sink. She wasn't interested in anything else. She hadn't been in a long time. Months. They were barely even speaking, and apparently they couldn't get through an entire conversation without snapping at each other.
She cursed softly and banged her wrench against the pipe. Another few moments' tinkering, and then she rose to her feet with a grunt of effort. He could tell her hip and leg were bothering her, but he didn't comment.
"Okay," she said, "let's give it a whirl."
He spun the valve like she indicated, and for a few seconds nothing happened. Then there was a great gurgling noise from the pipes and water erupted like a geyser. They both cried out and fell back, and he caught her as she stumbled.
"Fuck!" she said. She dropped to the floor again and turned the water off, cursing a blue streak as she did. She smacked the pipe with the heel of her hand and said something in a language he didn't recognize.
"What was that?" he said.
"Russian. I spent a season on a crab boat out of Alaska and picked up some colorful language along the way."
"A crab boat?" he said and blinked. "What was that like?"
"Fucking awful. I mean, I made a fuckton of money, but it was barely worth it. A guy got his hand caught in a trap and there was blood everywhere and I just—no. Never again. I can't even look at crab to this day."
She chewed her lip a moment. "Plus, I could barely keep up. I'm small, but I'm also pretty tough. But it was so cold all the time and I just ached constantly. Like knives sometimes. Everyone's gotta pull their weight, and I…well. Let's just say I'm better at fixing cars."
A grimace and a quick shake of her head. "It was a stupid idea, but I think I got caught up in the romance of it. A woman and the sea!"
She laughed, a bitter, self deprecating sound. Glanced up at him and shrugged. "I've never told anyone that before."
She was still on the floor, and he reached out a hand to help her up. She slid her palm into his and let him pull her to her feet. He didn't let go of her hand and she didn't try to take it back. Her eyes were big, nearly all pupil, and he had to fight to keep his gaze locked with hers and away from her mouth.
"Alaska, huh?" he said, a slight hitch in his voice. "You get around."
"Long way from Georgia, that's for sure," she said. She sounded distracted.
Neither of them looked away. Her face was tense, her cheeks bright, and he wanted to touch her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. He lifted his free hand, slowly, and she made no move to stop him. He trailed his fingers up the side of her neck and cupped her face. She closed her eyes. It was so quiet he could hear water dripping from where it had sprayed the wall. A bird called outside the window. He held his breath and waited.
She turned her head and kissed his palm. Rested her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Their noses bumped and she laughed. He grinned. She smiled up at him, and it was all the invitation he needed.
He wanted the kiss to be slow, easy, but his libido had other plans. He kissed her hard, hard enough to bruise, and she made a low moaning noise against his mouth that drove him nuts. She curled her fingers into his t-shirt and hauled him closer. Her teeth scraped across his lower lip. He lifted her onto the edge of the sink and wrapped her legs around his waist.
His hands were everywhere, running up her back and down her thighs. She kissed his jaw. His neck. Ran her tongue around the curve of his ear. He pulled her tank top off and slid a finger between bra and skin. Tugged the cup down and lowered his head to nip and suck at her nipple. Her nails dug into his scalp and he let out a soft groan.
She dragged him back him back up to her mouth, and as they kissed her hands slid down his chest and over his stomach. He toyed with her nipple, pinching and twisting it gently, and then harder as she gasped.
When the heel of her hand pressed against his erection he felt his mind go blank. She squeezed him through his pants while her other hand worked his belt. He heard the jingle of his buckle. The scrape of the button and the grate of the zipper.
Her fingers brushed his cock and he knew if he didn't stop this now he wouldn't be able to. "Wait," he said, his voice breathless, barely audible. "Wait, we can't—" Furious with himself and feeling like an idiot, he jerked back. "Liv, stop."
"What?" she said, a breathy gasp. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes heavy and drugged.
Wanting her was like a physical pain, and he wondered if he weren't truly stupid. But he couldn't— He shook his hand and grabbed her wrists (gently, this time) to lift them away. Eased her legs back down again. She stared at him, befuddled.
"What's wrong?"
"We can't do this," he said. He took a step back and ran both hands over his scalp. He remembered his pants were undone and turned away to put himself together again.
She blinked at his back and jumped down from the sink. "I don't understand. You seemed pretty gung-ho ten seconds ago." She didn't sound angry, just confused. Maybe a little hurt.
"I know." He turned toward her, his movements jerky and awkward. "I know," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—it was my fault. I just—" He twisted his head and she could see the muscles dancing in his jaw. His eyes were hot and bright.
She swallowed hard and fixed her bra. "Talk to me, Juicy," she said.
"I can't do this again, Olivia. You had me so fucking mixed up—yes, no, yes, maybe—then no, definitely no, pack up and go home. I finally got you outta my head, Liv. That trip to Ireland was like—I don't know. Like a Brillo pad to the inside of my skull."
She winced at the imagery, but he forged ahead before she could say anything. "I can't let you back in only for you to change your mind again tomorrow or the next day or even next week. It's too hard. You're too—" He didn't know what word he wanted. Addictive, maybe.
"Poisonous?" she supplied.
"No! No, that's not what I mean. I just—"
"No," she said with a quelling gesture. She reached for her top and pulled it on. Ran a hand over her hair. "It's okay. I get it. And you're right. It's not good for either of us to fall back into it again. I shouldn't have—"
"No, Liv, it was my fault—"
"It takes two, Juice. And if I hadn't been such a bitch the first time, this would all be different."
"You weren't a bitch. That isn't what I meant."
"I know it's not." Her lips curved in a little smile. She glanced away. "I really did ask you in here to help with the sink."
He huffed out a breath. "I know. We can—" He cleared his throat and tried again. "We can work on it some more, if you want."
"Ahh, no." She shook her head and suddenly she couldn't meet his eyes. "I think I've had enough plumbing for one afternoon."
She brushed past him and he started to reach for her. She looked down at his hand. He held it out for a moment before he slowly let it drop again. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't apologize, Juicy. You've no reason to."
He started to say something else, but she was out the door and gone in a flash.

Tig and Kozik were coming in as she was going out, but she blew past them like they weren't even there. They had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over, and she was almost halfway across the lot before either one of them had gathered himself enough to react.
"Whoa, hey! Hey, Ollie!" Tig called.
She stopped short and spun around, and he blinked at her. "You okay?" he said.
"Fine!" She pasted on a smile and nodded. "Sorry, I'm just late for something. Gotta run!" And she was off again.
They stared after her, nonplussed.
"She's kind of a weird girl," Kozik said.
"Uh huh," Tig said with a nod. He pulled a face. "Nice rack, though."
Kozik tilted his head in agreement. "S'true."
It was lucky for them Olivia didn't hear this exchange, because in her current state of mind they might not have survived it intact. As it was she threw herself in her car and fumbled for her keys. Managed to start the engine and peeled out of the lot. She held herself together for about three blocks, but then she had to pull over into a convenience store parking lot because her hands were shaking so hard.
She gripped the wheel tightly enough to hurt and stared straight ahead. What had she done? She'd pushed him away as hard as she could, told him to keep away from her, and now…he was. What did she think? She'd just crook her finger and he'd come running back?
"God what an idiot. What a fucking moron," she whispered, her voice raw and cracked. She smacked the wheel with the heel of her hand. Again. A third time. Then she was hitting it with both hands and screaming at the top of her lungs, screaming and crying and choking on her own sobs.
The initial storm blew over quickly, and she folded her arms on the steering wheel and rested her forehead on them. Drew in a deep, shaky breath and let it out on a soft moan. She rubbed her cheek against her arm and sniffled. What a fucking disaster she was. Maybe TJ had been right all along: maybe she didn't deserve to be happy. Maybe—
She cut that thought off with a vicious growl and raised her head. No. Fuck that. Fuck him. He was dead and gone and the only damage he could do now is what she let him do. She had sworn a long time ago he would never hurt her again, and she always kept her promises.
Something on the store's front sidewalk caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes. A guy was talking to a young woman—a girl, really, she looked seventeen or eighteen—and she didn't look happy. She started to walk away, but he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. When she tried to escape he gave her arm a nasty twist that made Olivia flinch.
She was out of the car and two steps from the store before she realized she'd even moved. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she said, her voice level and calm.
At first the guy didn't understand that she was talking to him. The girl stared at her with wide blue eyes, and this close Olivia realized she was younger than she'd thought from the car, closer to fifteen, maybe.
"Yo. Asshole. I'm talking to you."
His back went stiff and he turned toward her, dragging the girl with him as he came. "What, bitch? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Oh yeah. I can see that." He was probably thirty. Way too old to be messing with someone so young. "This your sister?" she said with a nod toward the girl.
He sneered. "If this little slut was my sister I woulda knocked her front teeth out already."
Olivia flashed that sweet, dangerous smile that had so chilled Jax and Chibs. This moron didn't recognize it, of course, and he was deceived by her size. "I'm guessing she's not your daughter, then." She focused on the girl. "What's your name, honey?"
She opened her mouth, but he jerked her arm before she could speak. She let out a little squeak and went silent.
"She don't talk unless I say so."
Olivia nodded slowly and looked away. Rested her hand casually on her hip and slid it around to her back pocket. She laced her fingers through the holes in the brass knuckle grip on her knife. Her eyes found the girl again. She was an inch or two taller than Olivia, but skinny as a rail. There was a bruise on her jaw, and she had a frightened, harried look Olivia recognized from countless glimpses of her own face in the mirror.
"So, big boy. You gonna let her go, or are we gonna have a problem?" she said, her voice taking on the honeyed cadence of the South.
"Who's we, little girl? You and me?" His head fell back and he barked out a laugh. When he dropped his chin again he raked his eyes up and down her body and leered. "I think I could handle you, sweetheart."
"Could you, baby?" She sidled closer. She crooked her finger and he leaned down, his hold on the girl relaxing as he was distracted by the contents of Olivia's tank top. "I'd like to test that theory," she said.
He grinned and shoved the girl away. She stumbled but caught herself before she fell. Olivia wanted her to run, but she just stood there and gaped at them. The guy was reaching for Olivia, his pig eyes greedy, when her fist shot out and connected with his jaw. She had sense enough (barely) not to open the blade, but she put her entire weight behind the punch and the brass knuckles bit deep.
He fell back and roared his rage. Shook his head and lurched toward her. She punched him again. Laughed in manic satisfaction when she felt his nose crack under her fist.
"Fuck you!" she cried. "You think it's okay to beat up little girls? Is that fun for you?" She hit him again while he was still dazed and then spun around to plant a kick squarely at his kneecap.
He bellowed and went down. Olivia charged him, but suddenly arms locked around her waist and hauled her back. She fought like a wild thing; kicked and clawed and spat; but the arms (of a cop, she'd soon find out, much to her chagrin) only held on tighter.
"I wanna press charges!" the guy yelled from his position on the sidewalk. "Fuckin' bitch attacked me outta nowhere! Stupid crazy bitch!"
"Get a fucking thesaurus, you Neanderthal!" she screamed.
"Okay!" the cop said. "Calm down! Calm the fuck down! Lady, if you don't relax I'll have to cuff you and put you in the car anyway."
Her vision had gone red with rage and his words barely penetrated. Somehow, though, she managed to stop struggling, and her chest heaved in and out as she tried to catch her breath.
"Can I let you go now?" he said.
She nodded, and his arms eased from around her waist. "All right," he said. He turned to the girl, who still hadn't run away, and smiled a little. "You saw the whole thing?"
She darted a glance to her boyfriend and back to the cop. "She attacked him for nothin'. She's crazy. Just like he said," she whispered.
The cop's forehead wrinkled in disbelief, but Olivia clamped her mouth shut and wouldn't say a word. He hauled in a sigh. "All right. Turn around and put your hands on your head."
Her jaw clinched tight, she did as he instructed. He took her knife and put it in his pocket before he snapped the cuffs around her wrists. "I'll need you both to come down to the station and make a statement," he said.
"I gotta go to the hospital," the guy grumbled.
The cop snorted. "You're a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, fuckwad. Get off your ass and come down to the station or I'm letting her go to finish the job."

Sorry for the update delay. I was busy finishing the story! If you guys would like, I'd love to hear from you. :) Reviews/concrit/what have you.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Come With Me Tonight