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drabbles-mc · 21 days ago

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Desperate

Jax Teller & OC Claire Morrow

For @narcosfandomdiscord Book of In Urgent Need of Assistance: "One day I'll wake up and it won't hurt so much." and Desperate

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, smoking/weed, mentions of injury/violence, Jax Slander

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Claire Morrow IS my Roman Empire. i think about her constantly. i have yet to come up with a longfic plot for her, so for now i just keep putting her in angsty little one-shots and calling it a day

By the time they had gotten back to her apartment, Claire hadn't been expecting Jax to wait around for her. It would be far from the first time that he stormed out of her place before they got the chance to talk about everything that was going on. Sometimes she wondered if it was a purposeful move on his part—a way to avoid having to tell her things that he didn’t want her knowing, or hearing about things that he wanted no part of. Other times she simply didn't believe that her brother was that smart.

But there he was, sitting at the tiny table that was in her kitchen. He heard her as she entered the room, but he didn’t turn to look at her. It wasn’t until she was sitting on the chair kitty-corner to his that he deemed to look at her at all. It was the first time in a long time that she had seen anything resembling sympathy on his face, more specifically sympathy that was meant for her. Must've been the bruises littered across her cheek that was catching the light.

She pulled one leg up so that her foot was resting on the edge of the seat of her chair. Wrapping her arms around her bent leg, she rested her chin on top of her knee. There were plenty of things that she wanted to say, but past experiences with everyone in her family had taught her that the second she opened her mouth, their tirades would come. So now, she waited.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Jax finally asked, taking his baseball cap off and tossing it onto her table as he did.

Claire didn’t answer right away, feeling like the question was more rhetorical than anything, like Jax was just coming out of the gate with that to tee himself up nicely for the rest of his rant about what exactly he thought she had been thinking. She sat silently, not breaking eye contact with him even as she reached for the joint and lighter that were on her kitchen table.

Jax raised his eyebrows. “Nothing? You got nothin' to say for yourself?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, sarcasm etched deep into her tone as she placed the joint between her lips. Flicking the lighter, she spoke around it, words muffled but still plenty clear enough for Jax to hear what she was saying. “Didn’t sound like a question you really wanted my answer to.”

“I can't wrap my head around it. So please,” he held his arms out slightly, “explain.”

Claire nodded but she didn’t get around to answering his question right away. She inhaled deeply off the joint in her hand, letting it crawl down the column of her throat and linger there for a few long seconds before allowing it to slip out as smoke between her lips. For a brief moment she contemplated extending it in an offer to Jax, but thought better of it quickly and kept it for herself.

“It's been an absolute shitshow on set,” she told him, making a point not to look him in the eyes as she did.

“Since when do you care what happens at the fucking porn studio?”

She gestured towards the door angrily with her hand that was holding the joint. “Since Luann asked me for some fucking help!”

He scoffed. “So you thought—”

“I thought,” she cut him off, “that I would help out since all anyone in the club ever does is show up to gawk at the girls. I helped her shoot. I helped her edit. Then all this shit with Georgie started popping off and all the girls started freaking the fuck out.”

“We took care of that.” Jax said it like it was a declaration.

Claire laughed in his face before taking another drag. “Yeah, and then Lyla came in with her nose nearly broken. So, you know,” smoke came out in tendrils with each word she said, “Luann started to think that maybe whatever you did, didn't work.”

“So she asked you?”

“No. She didn’t ask anyone, but I knew that she really didn’t want to ask you again.” She saw the way that indignant confusion went across Jax's face. “Come on, Jax. You guys have been treating her like absolute shit throughout this whole thing. And then you act like you're doing her a favor.” She shook her head, tone dropping to a mutter. “Par for the fucking course.”

“What's your fucking problem?”

She shook her head, kicking off with a lie before getting to the truth. “I don’t have a problem. And now, thanks to me, you and Luann and all the fucking girls at Cara Cara have one less to deal with too.” She stood up. “You're welcome.” She turned and headed for the fridge.

Jax watched from the table as she dug around in her refrigerator. When she popped back up into view again, she had a box of takeout in her hand. Swinging the door shut, she grabbed a fork from the drawer. She tucked into her food without even bothering to heat it up. Even if the day had been a better one, she wouldn't have put that minimal amount of time into prepping the food for herself. She paid no mind to the way that her brother was looking at her as she shoveled one forkful of rice after another into her mouth. Now that her adrenaline had runs its course, all those pesky little sensations like hunger and exhaustion and pain were starting to creep back in.

Silence settled between them again as Claire stood and leaned back against her counter while Jax stayed seated at her table. As Jax watched her, he couldn’t quite remember the last time it was just the two of them existing alone together like this. One of them was always traveling with a crowd—usually Jax. And, more often than not, wherever Claire was, Clay or Gemma wasn't far. It was never just them, and as Jax continued to sit and watch her, he didn’t know what to make of any of it.

He fussed with his cap that was still on top of her table. He knew that there were things that he wanted to say to her, but now it all just came through like static on the radio, one thought not discernible from the next.

“Do you realize,” Claire spoke up, some rice still tucked in her cheek as she spoke, “that everyone just is doing shit to try and keep you happy? Or,” she scoffed, “the closest thing to it?”

Jax shook his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Right now, specifically, I'm talking about Luann and the girls. They've been losing it but didn’t want to tell you because they didn’t want you getting upset again. They all feel like they owe you. And you,” she paused, looking at the container of food in front of her, unable to look him in the eye as she said, “you eat that type of shit right up.” She pushed rice around with her fork. “You always have.”

He shook his head, working overtime to not consider the fact that his sister was absolutely correct in everything that she was saying. He didn’t want his world put off-kilter so much. “You're insane.”

Claire scoffed, finally looking at him again. “Yeah, it's in the fucking genes.” She took another bite, granting herself a brief reprieve before asking, “You really going to sit there and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about?”

Jax had no problem lying, to anyone really, but especially to Claire. He'd done it outright and by omission their entire lives. The levels of success varied, but it never stopped him from trying. But now, for some reason, he found himself having a hard time faking genuine denial with her. Maybe it was because for the first time in a long time she was being honest with him too. Real honesty, not the type she usually doled out that was cloaked by layer after layer of sarcasm and well-timed jokes.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the top of the table as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “I don't—"

“Forget about Luann and the girls. What,” she huffed, setting her food on the counter and going back to where she'd been sitting before, “what about me?”

He shook his head in confusion. “What about you?”

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards the door. “I'm the one who went and took care of shit tonight, Jax. I'm the one who rolled up to Georgie's fucking house with a crowbar and—”

“A fucking crowbar? Jesus Christ, Claire—”

She continued on like he hadn't spoken. “And you still haven't asked me if I'm okay.”

He gestured to her face. “I can see the answer to that.”

She shook her head, disgust on her face. “Don't do that.”

“What?”

“You know what.” She let that statement hang in the air. “They do all that shit to try and keep you happy. Mom does, the club does. And, as much as I hate it, so do I.”

Jax laughed before he could stop himself. She almost had him. Until those last three words, he was taking everything that she was throwing at him. But that was just a tad too far for him to believe. For as long as he could remember, she'd been a thorn in his side and she loved every second of it. He'd chalked some of it up to typical younger sibling things, the kind of stuff that Thomas probably would've done too if he'd gotten the chance. But then the rest of it? It felt like jealousy, maybe, or even just a desire to nettle him for pure enjoyment on her end. Sometimes he chalked it up to the crazy she must've inherited from Gemma.

But in that moment, the look in her eyes almost seemed heartfelt. If he'd been anyone else he would've taken her at her word but he knew better. He'd watched her grow up, seen the way that she was always so easily able to get what she wanted from Clay and Gemma. Jax and his happiness were the furthest things from her mind.

“You've never given a shit about that.”

Propping her elbows harshly on the table, she raked her fingers back through her hair. It still wasn't completely dry from the shower and left a traces of residue between her fingers. “I've never been able to figure out how to do it, but that doesn't mean that I've never given a shit.” Looking at him, she felt the familiar burn of tears growing in her eyes. “For a long time I tried so hard to just get you…get you to fucking like me. When we were kids I tried so hard. And then I stopped because it wasn't working and you were so mean. I stopped and I tried not to care anymore and I tried to give up. I just kept telling myself, ‘One day I'll wake up and it won’t hurt so much.’ But it never happened. It still does.” She shook her head, just as much at herself and the emotions welling in her chest as at Jax. “And when Luann asked me for my help at the studio, I thought that maybe that would do it, you know? And maybe if I took care of Georgie and you saw that I can pull my weight, then maybe you'd get around to caring about me.”

“It's not—”

“You know how much it sucks, how…how fucking pathetic it feels, that some days I’m trying as hard as those fucking Crow Eaters to get you to give a shit about me? You know how sad and desperate that makes me feel? You talk all that shit about family with the guys in the club, those people you call brother just because they have the same piece of leather on their backs. But then, when it comes to your real actual family…this is all you have left for me? Those guys might be in your club but you're my brother.”

He could tell by the tremble in her fingertips that those were words she had been sitting on for a long time. They'd burrowed and made a home deep down in her chest and she had been content to leave them in hibernation indefinitely. He felt bad, angry too. It wasn't the first or the last time that she made him feel like an idiot, either.

Claire couldn’t make herself look at him. Real vulnerability was something that was so hard to come by in their family, and now that she felt the sinking pit in her stomach she started to understand why. There was a tiny part of her that wanted to take it all back, but it was too late now—she was probably better for it.

He'd never given much thought to whether or not Claire cared about being liked, by him or by anyone else. She certainly never acted like it was a concern of hers. Plus, in his mind, when it came to family it didn't really matter how much someone liked you, because at the end of the day they loved you and that would always outweigh everything else. That's how their family always ended up back in the same messes—no matter the anger, they would always show up at the eleventh hour. What else mattered?

Claire sniffled quietly as she tried to wipe at her face as casually as possible. “Now look who has nothing to say,” she forced out. Leaning back in her chair, she said, “Next time, just fucking say thank you and ask if I'm okay. It's a, a decent place to start.”

The discomfort that was burning a trail down the back of Jax's neck was telling him that this was one of those times when he should be apologizing, but that type of thing had never been his strong suit. This was one of the few times that he wished he was a little better at it.

“This isn't the kinda shit you should be handling on your own,” he told her, voice gentler than it'd been so far as he nodded towards the bruises on her face.

Claire could see it on his face that he was trying. And if she had been less exhausted, if she'd been in a more forgiving mood, she would've given him credit for that. But the Morrow in her was getting the best of her and she wasn’t about to hand him any kind of participation trophy after everything that had happened.

“You're telling me that if I'd called, you wouldn't have sent me to voicemail?”

He sank back in his chair as though her words had physically pushed him away. “This what you're always thinking about whenever you call me?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Usually it doesn't…” she trailed off, wanting to find the right words. “The stakes felt higher this time, I guess.”

Quiet washed over them again. Claire switched back and forth between looking at the tabletop, and looking at her brother. She was fairly positive that Jax hadn't ever let her go this long uninterrupted. It felt like the first time she was ever able to lead a conversation with him. She had no idea what good it would do, if any, but it was something at least. Part of her was still just stuck on the fact that he had stayed and waited. It wasn't necessarily any great feat, but for Jax it was something close.

“I'm glad you're alright,” he said with a nod. When Claire nodded back at him in response, a small smirk crossed his face as he said, “I'm glad you beat Georgie's ass, too.”

Claire didn’t want to, but she found herself laughing with him for the moment. It helped shed some of the weight that had been crushing her chest. “It felt kinda good. Lyla's busted nose is nothing compared to what his looks like now.”

Jax chuckled and for a moment they seemed like a pair of teenagers, talking to each other about the things they could never tell their parents. It was the kind of moment they never had when they were actual teenagers. It was refreshing in its own way, even if they were still avoiding the gaping wound of a problem between them.

“Did you tell Luann?”

Claire shook her head. “No. Did you tell Clay or—”

“Hell no,” he stopped her sentence short. “Neither of us would hear the end of it. I'd lay low ‘til those fade.”

She grazed her fingers over the slightly raised skin of her cheek. “Right.”

The exhaustion of the evening was starting to hit Jax, too. It felt useless to ask, but he still did. “Need anything?”

She shook her head. “I'm good.”

“You sure? I can stay.”

She laughed, and the sound was as humorous as it was sad. “Don't. It's fine.”

Jax frowned but he didn’t fight her on it. Reaching to grab his baseball cap of her table, he spoke as he pulled it down onto his head. “Alright. I'm gonna head out, then.”

Claire nodded, watching him as he walked around the table. “Night.”

“Night.” He rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment as he walked by. “Call me tomorrow, let me know how shit goes at the studio.”

“Sounds good.”

Jax paused when he was halfway out the door of her apartment. “Claire?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Jax saw every ounce of tiredness that she was weighing on her. “Yeah?”

“Thanks, and…” he trailed off, knowing how he should end the sentence and still not able to say it.

There would be time for more fights about it another day, so Claire let this one go for the sake of her own sanity. “Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow.”

She wasn't able to fully slump back in her chair until she heard Jax's bike start up and then fade into the distance. Once it was silent in her apartment and on the lot again, she all but melted into the seat of her chair, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and disappear under the covers, but feeling like she couldn’t make the last of the trek to do so.

(divider by @thecutestgrotto 💞)

SOA Taglist (if you'd like to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @withmyteeth @garbinge @darqchilddaydreamz @justreblogginfics @i-just-read-stuff

@yourwinchesterbros @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @proceduralpassion

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#sons of anarchy #soa #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #oc claire #oc claire morrow #narcovember #day of in urgent need of assistance #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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drabbles-mc · 2 years ago

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Nothing To Tell

Tig Trager & OFC (Claire Morrow)

For Day 23 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: bloodstains / sharing clothes

Warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of blood, language

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Anj and I have clocked so many hours talking about Claire and until this I never felt like I had a good idea for a small fic to put her in. So, you know, shout-out to Whumpril for allowing this girl to make her debut. I love her.

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @i-just-read-stuff @justreblogginfics @withmyteeth @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @darqchilddaydreamz @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @yourwinchesterbros @nessamc @garbinge @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Despite the fact that Tig’s eyes were open, that his gun was in his hand, that he was moving down the stairs towards his front door, he still felt like he was asleep. He wasn’t, of course, because the pounding against his front door had made sure of that. It was incessant, and if he had felt a little more awake he would’ve been yelling at whoever it was to knock it off, but he just had to settle for grumbling under his breath. Holding back a deep sigh, he flipped the deadbolt on the door and pulled it open, gun held tightly at his side.

Of all the people he thought he was going to be opening the door to, Claire wasn’t one of them. It was late, she should’ve been home, and she also had a key to let herself in with. All of those thoughts were running in the background of Tig’s sleep-addled brain as he looked at her, trying to register the sight in front of him.

Her eyes were puffy and red, makeup smeared beneath them. Now that she wasn’t trying to break his door down, her arms were folded tightly across her body, trembling even though it wasn’t all that cold out. Her hair was a mess—however she’d had it tied up before, all that was left in the ponytail now were a few locks of it, the rest around her shoulders and out of control. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other as she stood on his front step, glancing back over her shoulder for a moment before turning back to look at him again. Her bottom lip trembled as she opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find any kind of words to say even though she was coming up empty.

Even with the deep breath she took, her voice still came out small and shaky as she finally got herself to say, “Please don’t tell my dad.”

Confusion crossed his face at that. Shaking his head slightly, he reached out and gently looped his arm around her, trying not to take it personally when she flinched at his touch as he guided her inside. His voice was soft from more than just sleep as he told her, “Get in here.”

He did a quick scan of the street before stepping back into the house himself, putting the deadbolt back in place. When he turned around, he found Claire standing in the middle of his living room in much the same position she was on his step. It’d been a long time since he had seen her looking so rattled about anything. Fear never seemed to sink its claws into her, even though most times it should’ve.

“What’s going on?” he asked, tucking his gun into the back of his waistband.

She shook her head, running her hands back through her hair. “They can’t know. You gotta,” she paced in front of him, “you gotta promise you’re not gonna tell my mom and dad.”

“Claire—”

“Or Jax,” she cut him off, her voice trembling. “God. I didn’t even—” she dropped her face into her hands for a moment, “Fuck.”

He stepped in front of her so that she wouldn’t be able to keep walking when she finally lifted her face from her hands. He wanted to lift her head, make her look him in the eyes. He wanted to hold her, but he felt like she might shatter if he did.

“Claire,” he repeated, “talk to me, baby. What’s going on?”

She finally looked up at him, tears on her cheeks. She finally let her arms drop to her sides, and that was when Tig saw the blood splattered along the neckline and chest of her light grey t-shirt. “Please don’t tell them.”

Tig had never heard her plead like that, like she actually meant it. “I can’t tell anyone anything,” he reached out and gently thumbed the tears off her cheek, not saying anything about the way she recoiled slightly at the gesture, “if you don’t tell me what happened. So,” he brought his hand to rest on her shoulder, “what happened?”

She sniffled, shaking her head. “They told me. They told me not to get involved. And I,” she stepped away, giving herself room to start pacing again as she spoke, “I didn’t listen. That’s what they’re gonna tell me, too, you know. They’re just gonna tell me that if I had fucking listened—”

“Don’t worry about them,” Tig interrupted her spiraling train of thought. Whatever she went through, and she was still worrying about the rest of them. “Gemma, Clay, Jax—fuck all them right now, okay?”

“Tig…” the lump in the back of her throat made it hard to speak, his name coming out weaker than she wanted it to.

He could see the way her eyes darted around, looking at him, scanning the room, glancing over at the door, going back to him, repeating the cycle all over again. The longer the two of them stood there, the more he realized that he might not be getting anything out of her for a while. As much as he hated being in the dark, he also knew that trying to drag it out of her wasn’t going to be good for either of them. Claire had never been anything other than an open book with him. She’d been that way her whole life: a chronic over-sharer, oftentimes to a fault. If she wasn’t telling him something, it wasn’t a choice for her—she just couldn’t do it.

“What am I doing?” The question rhetorical, forced out past a sob.

“You’re okay,” he said, not knowing at all if it was true. Stepping in, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug that she gladly collapsed into. Hooking his chin over her head, he ran his hand up and down her back. “You’re okay.”

She didn’t hug him back. She wanted to, but she couldn’t force herself to do it, like the amount of strength it would take to return the embrace was too much for her to exert in the moment. Her arms hung limply at her sides as she leaned against him, tears and makeup smearing across the shirt that he was wearing. She was glad for the reprieve, the comfort and care that she wouldn’t have gotten if she had gone home.

Tig didn’t know how long the two of them stood there like that before he finally asked, “You gonna stay?” He asked it like a question, but there was only one answer that he was going to accept.

She didn’t pull away, just nodding as she stayed pressed to him. “If that’s okay.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Of course it is.”

He finally pried himself away from her, hands still resting on the outsides of her arms. Claire couldn’t force herself to look him in the eyes for a moment, her gaze staying fixed on the floor. There was a brief moment when she thought about turning around and running back to her car. But there was no getting away from it. It was all going to come crashing down eventually.

“Can I borrow something to, you know,” she gestured to the blood smeared on her shirt.

Tig nodded. “I’ll grab you something.”

He was hardly gone for a minute before he reappeared with a shirt and a pair of sweatpants in his hands. Neither of them were really going to fit her, but they didn’t have blood on them so they were a step in the right direction. She was only going to wear them to sleep, after all, so he figured that she wasn’t really going to mind.

Handing them over to her, he said, “Go shower. I’ll,” he gestured to the couch, “get this ready for you.”

She didn’t know why fresh tears spilled over onto her cheeks as she nodded, but they did. Neither of them acknowledged them as she reached and took the clothes from him. “Thank you.”

Tig watched her as she slowly made her way off towards his bathroom. He waited until he heard the sound of the shower running before he went to grab an extra pillow and blankets for the couch. He was going through the motions of it all, realizing how long it had been since someone had turned up on his step looking for a safe place to stay. That’s not usually what anyone needed him for.

It wasn’t often that Claire came by for more than a drink and to complain about her brother. Both of those activities were things that Tig was more than happy to indulge in with her. But she never needed to hide out at his house. The more Tig thought about it, the last time she was there for anything close to this purpose, was when she was a kid. It wasn’t just her, though. Thomas was there, and so were Tig’s daughters. Jax had managed to talk his way into staying at Opie’s with Mary and Piney, which was just as well. Despite the circumstances of it all, Tig almost found himself smiling at the memory of it. No one told the kids why they were actually staying at Tig’s, so they all just treated it like a big sleepover. They were better off that way.

The smile on his face faded when he realized that Claire was the only one out of the four who was still around. Tig couldn’t remember the last time that Dawn or Fawn had crossed county lines into Charming, and everyone knew what had happened to Thomas. So it was just Claire, and it didn’t seem like she was much better off than the rest of them for having stayed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her footsteps, the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. Turning around, he saw her standing there in his clothes, hers balled up in her hands because she didn’t know where she should leave them. Despite his clothes not being the right size for her, Tig couldn’t help but to think that she still didn’t look as small as she did standing on his doorstep. She didn’t look okay yet, but she looked better. It was a start.

He wanted to ask how she was, but the answer was obvious. He also wanted to ask her again about what had happened, but she finally looked like she wasn’t waiting for someone to come kicking his door in after her, so he let it lie. Whatever the circumstances were, they wouldn’t change before morning.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she stepped in closer, her voice quiet, still unsteady. She didn’t know which part of it all she was really apologizing for. Maybe all of it.

He shook his head as he took the clothes from her, unsure of whether he should just toss them for her or wash them. “It’s okay.” He gave her a small smile. “Not the worst mess I’ve had to clean up.”

It got a weak laugh out of her as she shook her head. “Gross.”

They both chuckled for a moment, despite the exhaustion, all of the questions lingering above their heads. Tig let a few beats pass before asking, “Want me to stay down here?”

She shook her head, nose twitching to fight off the sniffle she could feel creeping up. “I’ll be okay.”

He studied her face. “You sure?”

She took a deep breath, trying her best to sound as certain as she usually did. “Yea.”

He didn’t want to push it, didn’t want to make things worse all over again, so he nodded. Stepping in, he gave her another hug, kissing the side of her head, not caring that her hair was still damp. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

She nodded as she hugged him back. “Thank you.”

He noticed the way that she wasn’t quite ready to let go yet, so he didn’t make her. Leaning his head against hers, he said, “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

She let out a shaky breath, but she still nodded. “Okay.”

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday23 #bloodstains #sharing clothes #soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #tig trager #tig trager x oc #oc claire #oc claire morrow #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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