Charming the Charming

Tara sat with her sunglasses on top of her head as Helen sat next to her on the edge of the club’s boxing ring and watched as Jax, Juice and Opie lowered in a rather large modified motor into an equally large and fancy truck.

“So you’re officially Juice’s old lady after all these months, huh?”

“Yup,” Helen sat back and rubbed her stomach.

Tara looked over and noticed her sister’s off colour, “You okay?”

She pressed her lips, “Yeah, just feeling really sick is all.”

A loud crunch sounded as one of the chains holding the engine snapped causing the guys to shout curse words.

“Looks like they are having a time there,” Tara nodded her head.

Helen looked down at her phone, “Wanna grab some food and fix lunch? I reckon those boys will be hangin’ for a feed after this.”

“Sure.”

They both walked over and caught the guys attention with a wave.
“We’re going to grab some food and get some lunch going for you guys.” Tara placed a kiss on Jax's cheek. “Any special requests?”

As Tara took down orders for the usual flavours Helen was hugging into Juice’s shoulder.

“Not feeling any better?” He asked rubbing her back.

“Not really,” she shook her head, “It comes and goes.”

He kissed her cheek. “If it gets worse get Tara to take you to the hospital and I’ll be there, yeah?”

Helen smiled, “It’s not going to get that bad.”

Juice gave her a stern look.

“Fine, if it does I will.” She kissed his lips. “Meanwhile you make sure those other chains don’t snap and crush ya.”

With a quick slap over her butt Juice saw Helen off from the lot and went back to working on the truck.

Trolley wheels rolled through the store isles as the sisters filled it with enough food to feed the Club for a whole week and not just lunch.

“We should get you checked out, Helen.” Tara mentioned noticing as Helen held an arm tight around her stomach.

“You’re starting to sound like Juice,” her eyes rolled with a slight laugh.

“Well Juicey Boy does have a point,” she sided with Helen’s biker boyfriend.

“I’ll be fine.” Helen took in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

Tara raised a brow as a sudden thought entered her head and as a doctor she was not one to beat around the bush. “You have been using protection, right?”

Helen peeked an eye open. “Of course.”

“Just a thought, it seems every chance you two get you’re at it. Just as bad as Jax and I.”

“That's not something I want to think about. My sister getting her freak on with some biker dude."

Helen smiled as the ache in her stomach subsided. Tara let out a laugh as they moved further down the isle.

Helen sat in Juice’s lap as the club crowded the table filled with food and drinks chatting and laughing. If you weren’t on the inside you really did miss out on the love that came with being a part of the SAMCRO family, club member or old lady. Despite the bad times that flooded in with abundance, the good seemed to just outweigh them all.
For the first time in a long Juice felt content with his life. He was a part of a tight club and had the sweetest lady by his side, shy of a few loose ends everything was as perfect as it could get.

Helen looked over to see the potato salad bowl was yet again empty and leaned over to snap it up. “I’ll be back,” she brushed her lips against Juice’s cheek before excusing herself to the kitchen.

While she refilled the bowl the table erupted in barks of laughter, leaning back she smiled at the sight. Juice glanced over and caught her watching with a smile of her own. Nodding his head to the group before moving to the kitchen.

“Feeling better baby?” he snaked his arms around her waist.

“Sure am,” she turned brushing her lips against his. “A lot better.”

Juice’s hands ran up the back of her shirt and leaned in for a kiss.

“Ahem,” a voice interrupted them. “So that’s what’s taking so long.” Gemma suppressed a smile and pulled the potato salad towards her. “You kids.”

That night Helen listened as Juice talked about growing up in Queen’s as her hands washed dishes from a late night grilled cheese sandwich craving they shared. As he began to talk about his family, very rarely if ever, Helen paid close attention.
So much had gone on between them already that it seemed strange to not know the small things about each other.

Juice ran a hand over his head and stopped mid sentence. “I’ll be back.”

Helen heard the buzzing of hair clippers from the bathroom as Juice ran them over the sides of his head making sure his Mohawk was perfectly even and every patch of stubble was gone from the sides. As he placed the clippers down the sound of breaking glass shattered through the kitchen.

With a scream Helen ducked as a brick hit the soapy water with a splash and thud against the steel bottom.
Juice grabbed his gun from the bedroom on his way back to the kitchen. “Are you okay?” he asked putting an arm around her and pulling Helen into the lounge room. She nodded as he did so, finding the couch and falling into it.

“What the hell?” Helen pushed her hair back with a still wet hand.

“Just stay here,” Juice flattened his hand before raising his gun again and cautiously stepping into the kitchen.

Shattered glass spread over the floor as he stepped around it to the sink and plunging his hand in Juice pulled the plug to reveal the hulking brick in the bottom of the sink. His brow wrinkled.

“Juice!” Helen called from the lounge room.

“What’s wrong?” he stepped into the lounge room with the brick in his hand.

Fear claimed her face as she pointed to the lounge room window. “He’s out there.”

Juice covered the length of the lounge with a few strides and opened the front door, knowing exactly who was out there and let shots fire from his gun.

Helen could hear that unmistakable bark of a laugh and jumped from the couch. “I have to get out of here,” she mumbled heading for the bedroom.

The front door slammed shut and Juice’s steps pounded down the hallway stopping short of the bedroom door.

Helen thrust clothes into her bag and looked up. “You have to get me out of here.”
Juice felt his stomach flip and his heart crack in his chest, he had promised to protect her from that man and it was about time he came through on that promise.

“No, put the bag down and I will deal with this,” he pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in Chibs’s number.