Fic ~ First Thing
Title ~ First Thing
Fandom ~ Sons of Anarchy
Rating ~ R
Disclaimers ~ I disclaim disclaimers and claim the tattoo on Opie’s chest. The one that says, “The center cannot hold.” and “Anarchy is the only hope.”
Notes ~ Just a little ficlet, set at some point early in the series but without any specific spoilers. I honestly never thought I’d write Jax / Opie, but the sight of Opie carrying a half-naked Jax in his arms pretty much took care of that.
Jax woke up when he felt the mattress shift, but didn’t open his eyes. He listened as Opie moved around the room, recovering clothing from the scattered piles left on the floor, cursing as he searched for the boot that Jax suspected would turn up behind the bed. Finally, there was a heavy sigh and the clank of a belt buckle as Opie pulled his jeans on.
“Jax, I know you’re awake.”
He couldn’t keep from smiling, but kept his eyes closed. “How do you know?”
“Because you always pretend to be asleep when someone tries to sneak out of your room in the morning, so you won’t have to talk to them.”
The end of the bed dipped, and Jax opened his eyes to grin at Opie’s broad back. “Just trying to give you some dignity, man.”
“Fuck you.”
“Already did that.”
Opie glanced back at him then, scowling. As he pulled his shirt on, Jax stretched and nudged his hip with one bare foot. Opie moved away.
“I gotta get home to Donna,” he said. “She’ll be freaking out.”
“Shit, Ope, she’s knows what it’s like. You just got out…”
Opie stood then, quickly. “Yeah, and it’s time I live up to my responsibilities for a change.”
“All right, fine…” Jax reached over his head to feel between the bed and wall and came up with a boot. He sat up to toss it to Opie, a little harder than necessary. Opie caught it, but went still for a moment, staring at the skin exposed as the sheet fell away from Jax’s body. Jax leaned back on his hands, letting him get a good look and trying not to look to smug.
“Go on then,” he said. “Your wife is waiting.”
Opie turned away. He pulled on the boot with his hip against the dresser. Jax watched him find his jacket and shrug into it. He didn’t look at Jax again until he got to the door.
“Hey, Jax…” He glanced back, eyes dark. “Are we cool?”
Jax smiled at him. “Have we ever not been cool?”
Opie didn’t respond, and it occurred to Jax that he really didn’t know.
“I told you before. We’re just having some fun. It’s not a big deal.”
Opie laughed, but there was no real happiness in it. “Not a big deal…”
“Ope…” Jax sighed. “We’re cool. Go home. I’ll see you later.”
Opie studied him for a moment more, but all Jax could do was nod. Finally, Opie nodded back and ducked out the door.
Jax fell back on the bed and lay staring at the ceiling. Distantly, he heard the roar of a motorcycle breaking the peace of the morning. It was early yet. He could easily roll over and go back to sleep. Instead, thinking of the lines of ink across Opie’s chest, he reached for his cigarettes and John’s journal.
The End