To celebrate the fact that I have just written a tiny minuscule fic, after so long spent not ficcing, people, ask me for drabbles before the writer's block comes back
( Read more... )
It's not that Tig didn't like Half-Sack. Honestly, he had nothing against the kid. He was alright, as far as prospects went.
But that was the thing, really. He was a prospect. You weren't supposed to be too nice to a prospect, especially when you were the MC's sergent at arms. There was a certain attitude you had to maintain. (A pass could be given in case of Indian fucking drugs; that shit was way out there.)
Thing was, sure, he only had one ball, and he was a prospect, but Half-Sack really had been a decent prospect, and damn close to making it to full club memberhood. So when Tig learned how Cameron gutted him, after they'd failed to catch him taking off with Abel, well, he had to wonder if he'd even said goodbye.
Prospect or not, Half-Sack or not, he deserved a decent goodbye, and the last Tig could remember was punching him in the arm (probably harder than was entirely necessary) and heading off after Zobelle. It was an alright sort of goodbye, as far as bikers went, but it could have been better.
That was the explanation he gave Clay when he was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct, one morning, at the cemetary. Honestly, he'd meant to empty the bottle of JD on Half-Sack's grave. And then he'd thought it'd be a more fitting goodbye to drink it in his honor.
And if the officer caught him pissing on the side of a tombstone that morning, well, at least it wasn't Half-Sack's.
He's Tig! Deep down inside he's full of love and... well, no, not sweetness. Love and fucked-upness. His relationship with Gemma might just be one of my favourites on the show. Thanks for the prompt! It was fun to try my hand at him.
But that was the thing, really. He was a prospect. You weren't supposed to be too nice to a prospect, especially when you were the MC's sergent at arms. There was a certain attitude you had to maintain. (A pass could be given in case of Indian fucking drugs; that shit was way out there.)
Thing was, sure, he only had one ball, and he was a prospect, but Half-Sack really had been a decent prospect, and damn close to making it to full club memberhood. So when Tig learned how Cameron gutted him, after they'd failed to catch him taking off with Abel, well, he had to wonder if he'd even said goodbye.
Prospect or not, Half-Sack or not, he deserved a decent goodbye, and the last Tig could remember was punching him in the arm (probably harder than was entirely necessary) and heading off after Zobelle. It was an alright sort of goodbye, as far as bikers went, but it could have been better.
That was the explanation he gave Clay when he was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct, one morning, at the cemetary. Honestly, he'd meant to empty the bottle of JD on Half-Sack's grave. And then he'd thought it'd be a more fitting goodbye to drink it in his honor.
And if the officer caught him pissing on the side of a tombstone that morning, well, at least it wasn't Half-Sack's.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Leave a comment