For Reasons Wretched and Divine

As is

A year ago, Happy would have fought tooth and nail over the best part of Club life. He would have said it was the scent leading up to the battle, the swirling and violent delight that came from tasting blood in the water. But here? Now? Since he knew what gentleness was and how love was warmer than anything he'd ever felt?

Current, present tense Happy would say that the best part of Club life was the in-between moments, where something had ended, and nothing had started. Moments that he could sit with his brothers and take comfort in the fact that they had made it all out alive and free because it didn't always happen.

But peace was not one of the words carved in Happy's bones, and his marrow seemed to reject the very notion.

0o0

"I'm telling ya, on the corner of Maple and LaBrant, there is the tiniest little sex shop, I'm eighty percent sure it's infested with termites, but they sell lube by the gallon," Tig enunciated with his hands, using his beer as a prop in his description.

Chibs blenched, screwing up his face. "What the ever-lovin' fuck would I ever need a goddamn gallon of lube for?"

Happy grinned at the chorus of laughter filling the bar, patting down his pockets when he felt his phone ringing.

"Oh, you know, lotsa stuff, have you ever heard of the sex position The Cabbage Flower? That takes a pint of lube at least, and that's only if you know what you're doing. Gotta lube up to elbow if you wanna do it right," He took a swig of his beer, satisfied with the looks of disgust and intrigue he was receiving. If Tig couldn't drag you into his depravity, he made sure he would disgust you with it.

Happy's phone screen read 'Mom,' and he immediately held the phone to his chest as if to cover her ears so as not to hear the conversation, even though he hadn't even accepted the call.

"Hey!" He barked out into the room. "My mom is calling, shut the fuck up about whatever disgusting thing you're talking about,"

Tig's mouth snapped shut, not out of respect for Happy's mother, but because Happy had raised his voice, such a rare thing that it shocked the words right out of his mouth.

Glowering at the man, Happy clicked on the green circle.

"Hey Ma, how was bingo?"

"Is this Happy Lowman?" An unfamiliar male voice came through the other line, and Happy's head reeled back, rechecking the caller ID.

Adrenaline pulled him to his feet by the scruff of his neck and sang in his ears, "Who is this?" His voice dropped an octave and dripped with malice, the echo of the clattering barstool an eloquent backdrop to his sudden and boiling-over anger.

"I'm Doctor Firth at Tacoma General, I'm calling on behalf of Guadeloupe Hidalgo. Are you her son, Happy?"

"Yes," he growled, the words ground out of his mouth, all gravel and glass shards.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news."

-One week later-

"Let me get that," Happy scowled, snatching the box out of her hand.

"So what? I can't help pack up my own house? What is this? If I had known you were just going to be an ass all the time, I would have named you after my brother," Guadeloupe chastised, dismissing him with a waved hand, a matching scowl lining her face.