Hands All Over

Ch. 12 Dealing

Angela woke up the next morning to find Juice sitting at the edge of her bed, his bare back to her, one hand rubbing back and forth over his head. She crawled over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her chin on his shoulder. His hands covered hers and squeezed. "You gonna be there today?" he questioned, his voice sounding rough and tired.

She didn't need to ask where he meant; Donna's funeral was later that day. "Yeah," she answered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. "Skeet and I are riding in the hearse. I gotta help him out with the equipment and stuff. Flower arrangements...everything."

" 'kay," he said softly.

"Are you doing anything special?" she asked, eyeing the extra cut he'd brought with him the night before. He'd explained it was Jax's and that the VP had tossed it at him as he left the night before. Juice was taking on the responsibility of bringing it back to him.

"Couple of the other charters are up to show support. We're doin' a whole procession. You'll be in the middle of it," he explained flatly. He felt her sigh against him before kissing his shoulder once again. He was grateful for the affection and drew strength from her embrace.

She had a feeling his stress was more from what had happened the night before and less from what happened to Donna. He hadn't slept at all. Something she only knew because he hadn't been snoring like a lawnmower. She hadn't been able to sleep much either thanks to his tossing and turning. "You're not a bad guy, Juice," she assured him.

He relaxed a little bit, melting back into the circle of her arms. That was exactly what he needed to hear. "You really think so?" he asked, turning his head to look at her.

Angela's face was totally serious as she nodded. "Yeah, I really do."

"If you say so," he said on a sigh. He stood up slowly, giving her a sweet kiss before pulling his clothes back on, aware of her concerned eyes watching him. "I'm all right, Angel."

"I know," she said on a sad smile. Though she only half believed it. His usually bright and happy eyes were dull and sad, something she hated to see. "I just worry..."

A small smile turned up the corner of his lips. It was rare he had someone worrying about him. Most people just played him off as the goofy intelligence officer, no one ever stopped to ask how he was feeling, but she did. She actually cared. He leaned over to kiss her once again. "Thanks, Angel."

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"This is beautiful," Angela commented from her seat next to Skeeter in the hearse. Sons from all over the West Coast surrounded them, protecting and guiding their vehicle as they made their way toward the cemetery.

Skeeter nodded somberly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "It's not often one of their own die. This is a big deal," he explained gesturing to the bikers in front of him.

"I can tell."

"You did a good job, Angie. Takin' care of all this," he said gesturing at the motorcycles. "Last guy I had was scared shitless of them. Wouldn't work with them at all."

Angela shrugged, though inwardly she was happy with his compliment. "I grew up with guys like them. They're only scary if you piss them off. I try my best not to."

Skeeter nodded in agreement. "And this thing with Juice?"

"Don't worry about it, Skeet," she replied simply to end the conversation. It was a line she'd picked up from Happy. Something he usually said to her when he didn't want to talk about something. She wondered briefly if it would work on him.

"I do worry about it," he muttered under his breath but dropped the subject. He glanced at Angela who was staring straight out the window, twisting a ring around her finger nervously. "Just hang back. I've been to one of these before. The girls...they'll sit and watch while the men stand behind them. They won't cry or anythin'. They don't need their ladies to comfort them."