The Scottish Thistle and The English Rose by HaylsValo

Chapter 19: Fears, Fighting And Fucking

Boo was sitting inside the clubhouse working on the final chapters of her second novel about Elizabeth 1st. She'd been working on them for several weeks and she just couldn't seem to get anything to sound or look right. She wanted to do her favourite English's monarch's final year's justice but so far all she was able to come with was text book sounding, dull and boring rubbish. Chibs was leaning against her shoulder, one arm loosely slung over her lap, dozing softly, catching up on the sleep he had lost two nights earlier. He hadn't slept much after Boo had revealed that she still remembered the pain of her overdose, the shock of her revelation and concern for his Ol' Lady keeping him awake and watching her sleeping form until well after the sun had risen. He hated that his beautiful wee Hen remembered overdosing, remembered the pain of it. He'd hoped it was something that would stay buried in her memory forever...

"Here you go guys, the good stuff." Bobby said, suddenly appearing in the clubhouse a paper bag in hand. He opened it up and dumped a dozen of his famed muffins on the counter. The rest of the club soon swarmed round, grabbing at the tasty treats quick before they all disappeared. Even Chibs was able to rouse himself long enough to snatch one up, passing one to Boo before he started on his own. Everyone loved Bobby's muffins and nobody liked to miss them when he made a batch.

"These muffins are great with tequila Bobby." Piney said, taking a sip of his drink as he munched on his muffin. Boo couldn't help but roll her eyes at that, 8.15am and Piney was at the tequila. It never failed to amaze her just how early he seemed to start drinking. And how everything he ate went well with tequila. Or beer. Or whiskey. Or Vodka...

"Shits addictive." Chibs nodded, starting on his own muffin, mouth exploding with the soft, light taste. If he had his way, he'd eat them all the time. Bobby could never make enough of them as far as Chibs was concerned! The man was a damn fine baker! "Yer tryin' teh make me a fat bastard so my woman won't want me anymore aren't yeh Bobby?" he accused, glaring at Bobby for a moment before being distracted by Boo's hand working its way up his leg. She curled her fingers around his thigh, gave it a soft squeeze before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I'd still love you even if you got as fat as Bobby." She assured him before pressing her lips to his. Chibs smirked and pulled her closer, muffin abandoned on the side as he deepened the kiss. Boo tasted of Bobby's muffins, sweet and sugary with the faintest hint of cinnamon. The Scotsman couldn't help but groan at that, mixed with the typical 'Boo' taste on his girls lips, he couldn't not be a little turned on. Giggling softly, Boo slipped her hands under Chibs' cut and pulled herself closer still, so she was practically straddling his lap, fingers digging into his back as his hands ran down her back and cupped her ass firmly... The rest of the club just ignored them, over the years such public displays of affection from the couple had become so common place they were barely even noticed anymore.

Unless you were Tig. The Sergeant at Arms scowled, rolled his eyes and marched over to the bar where he sat with his muffin and a beer, his back to Boo and Chibs. He hated it when they got so intimate in front of everyone like that. Couldn't they keep their hands to themselves and leave it for the bedroom?

"Any hash in them?" Jax asked with a smirk, knowing that 99% of everything that Bobby baked had hash in it, even if it was only a little. Bobby shook his head; it was far too early for hash muffins!

"You know my rule, no bud before 9am." He said, eyes on the clock on the wall. Jax simply tutted and rolled his eyes, took a bite out of his muffin.

"That's not my rule..." he said as he walked away.

"Turbinado sugar, organic flour, none of that processed shit." Bobby explained, only to realise that no one was really listening to him. "Not that any of you guys really give a damn!" he tutted with a roll of his eyes. None of the guys gave a damn what was in the muffins, as long as they tasted good and appeared regularly. Heck sometime he wondered why he forked out so much for expensive ingredients, the guys would probably like the things just as much if he used cheap processed shit.