Ladybug [h.s.]

4

Harry

~~~~~~~~

The minute I got Cliff home from the ER, I was already making my way to the bar. I couldn't bear to sit at home watching the leaky faucet, or find a grassy spot in the park beside the shop, and Jack was still fuming at us both. Cliff was in good hands with Dean at their place, although I was sure the bastards were just gonna have a smoke and listen to the radio.

"Man, Sting, the fuck was that?" Cliff breathed out over the sound of the wind, good hand gripping at the fabric of my jacket as I rode us home. "Broad's got a real big mouth on her."

I shrugged as best I could, revving the engine of my bike loud as we pulled in front of a little jacked car.

"'Keep your sideshow to yourself, greaser.'" He laughs out against my neck. "Jack was eyein' her the other night, I think. Ya think he'd even have a chance with a bird like that?"

I shrugged again, biting the tip of my tongue. I was thankful for the loudness of the world around us as we flew down the street, words ripped from my lungs before they even formed. I knew that Jack would have a chance with anyone. I also knew that Delilah would see right through to his softness. I refused to let that happen; the last thing I needed was Delilah poking around the gang just to get close with Jack. So, I just shrugged. Clifton would fill my empty response anyway.

"Hey, you think those guys are gonna try to get the fuzz comin' after us?" Sure enough, he diverted the topic easily, spouting endless conversation like a broken hose.

Before I had the chance to shrug, we pulled up to Cliff and Dean's place, the rattle of the engine fading out as I cut the ignition. He hopped off the back immediately, waving his bandaged hand in the air like he was conducting an orchestra. My tongue lazily ran across my lower lip, moistening the dried out skin as I watched him walk towards the front door. "Nah. We didn't knock their brains around that bad."

Cliff barked out a laugh, "Sure we didn't, Stinger. That guy you got a hand on looked halfway to hell."

I couldn't help the smirk that pulled at the corners of my mouth. I knew Jack was mad, raging on about how we shouldn't have tracked down those bastards that jumped him. I knew it'd take him a few days to cool off - until he knew, for sure, that we were all okay. He was the last one to ever start a fight. In fact, he only threw a punch when somebody tried to hurt one of the three of us. He'd told us not to go after them; that he was fine and it didn't matter. But the satisfaction of beating that square's face in outweighed all of it. Knowing that he dared to put a fucking hand on my best friend, that he had the audacity to believe he'd get away with it. Watching him beg like a fucking dog for us to take it easy on them. Some form of revenge; a fist for a fist.

"Damn right he did, man. They better not fuckin' dream about messing with any of you guys or I'll go off my rock."

Clifton's good hand snuck from the doorknob to point roughly toward me. "You either, man. You know we'd ruin their shit."

I nodded, letting the squeak of the door hinges fill in an answer as Cliff started inside. Dean had the radio blaring, static overtaking whatever song was on.

"See ya, Sting." He gruffed out. I was already back on my bike, itching for a drink. If there was one thing I needed after fighting those guys, it was a beer. If there was one thing I needed after spending an hour with Delilah, it was a beer. If there was one thing I needed after telling off that asswipe at the hospital, it was a beer. I needed a beer. Badly.