Sons Of Anarchy [Collection]

Healing Touch [Jax Teller]

After a couple of stressful days at work all [Y/N] wanted to do was down a couple of glasses of wine and pass out in bed. God on the other hand must have had other plans because just as she settles in, cuts the light off and pulls the covers up the doorbell chimes. For a moment she ponders just letting the person abuse the bell, but eventually she drags herself from the bed.

As she nears the front door she flicks on the porch light and peels back the curtain to see who it is. Her heart sinks a little as her [e/c] eyes land on the blond haired outlaw-Jax Teller. Begrudgingly she unlocks and opens the door just enough that she can see him and the bright red blood stain seeping through.

"What?" She asks, a hint anger and frustration making an appearance.

"I-I... help me please?" Jax replies softly, his eyes boring into her own. As much as she wants to slam the door in his face she sighs deeply and pushes the door open all the way as an invitation for him to come in. Jax takes the hint and hurries inside making a beeline for the kitchen knowing that's where she'll direct him. [Y/N] quietly shuts the door and locks it before taking a few steady breaths trying hard to keep her emotions in check.

"Breath, you can do this." She mumbles as she moves down the hall to the bathroom in order to get a few medical supplies. "Yes that dumbass Teller left you high and dry because his high school sweetheart rolled back into town. But that doesn't make you some worthless piece of trash, you're a damn queen."

Once she's in the bathroom she grabs a few towels and a metal box stashed behind some old knick knacks. As she makes her way back into the kitchen she swings by the liquor cabinet in order to grab a bottle of whiskey for antiseptic purposes-or other reasons.

"How?" Jax mumbles as he eyes [Y/N] up and down as she sets the supplies on the counter next to the table.

"Shirt off, on the table and for the love of God don't say shit." [Y/N] replies sharply while opening the box and digging out some suture material and needle drivers. Out of the corner of her eye she watches Jax tank his kutte off followed by his shirt. She diverts her attention to sterilizing the instruments to the best of her ability as an attempt to ignore his grunt of pain.

[Y/N] turns around to face Jax and his wound which is where she focuses all of her attention. Slowly she walks over to the table to investigate it and to her dismay it's only a graze.

"Oh you're a lucky son of a bitch." [Y/N] mumbles under her breath as she turns back around and grabs the bottle of whiskey and a towel.

"What?" Jax questions as he lifts his head to look at her.

"Nothing. Shut up and lie down." She retorts before pouring some of the whiskey onto the wound earning a hiss from the biker. The whiskey and blood mix and pour onto the table and then the floor, the least of her concern. After a few more seconds of poking and prodding she concludes that she'll close it with bandages verses sutures.

"You're done, up and out." She declares forcefully while turning back to her supplies so that she can repack them perfectly.

"Thank you." Jax mumbles lowly.

"Why did you run to me patch you up? Especially since Tara can do the same damn thing." [Y/N] questions while keeping her back towards him.

"I don't know and that's the truth." He replies while slipping from the table, the legs scraping across the floor. "You look good by the way."

"Don't make it a habit, surely you can see yourself out." She mumbles as he collects his clothes.

"Of course, I'll see you around yeah?" He asks while moving towards the backdoor.

"Doubt it." She replies as he slips into the night and far away from what used to be a good life. [Y/N] stops cleaning for a second before lashing out at the objects in front of her. The box and towel go skittering across the floor sending objects flying into all corners of the room and the whiskey bottle shatters the moment it makes contact with the ground.