The Scotsman | Chibs Telford Fanfiction
Disclaimers: after this one, there's two chapters left. tw; violence, depictions of ptsd, mentions of blood, firearms, strong language, plus all the usual for the soa universe!
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The door creaks open slowly, white light flooding in from the hallway. You’re still groggy from the anesthesia, but you can make out the sound of his heavy boots and the jiggle of the chain hanging from one side of his pants.
It’s overwhelming how much you crave him and his touch. The safety of his presence. The warmth in the pit of your stomach when your eyes meet. The feeling that kept you grounded in life.
Chibs stops at the door of the bed. He’s breathing quietly, afraid to startle you. Brown eyes loaded with tension soften with relief when they see you awake and okay – for the most part, at least.
“Hey,” — You whisper, voice hoarse and throat dry. You’re warm under the white blanket, but crave the heat from his arms. — “You look like hell.”
The corner of Chibs’ mouth twitches into a curve, and he exhales a shaky laugh, moving to the side of the bed and closer to you. — “How’re you feeling?” — Finding your hand over the blanket, his thumb brushes gently over the inside of your wrist, where the rope burns still linger.
You show him a tired smile. “Like I got shot.”
Chibs frowns. — “Don’t ever do that again,” — He says, tone between an order and a plea. Your hand grazes his fingers, weaving beneath them.
“I thought you’d be mad at me.”
“I’m bloody furious,” — He says with that deep Scottish accent that you like so much, exhaling a gentle laugh. — “I really can’t wait for us to fight about this, darlin’. So get better soon.”
You laugh. A soft, cracked sound that turns into a wince when pain radiates from your abdomen. Chibs’ hand shifts to your side, right over the white bandages, pressing your skin softly.
“You called me that before,” — You whisper, slowly breathing through the pain until it softens.
Chibs runs a hand through your hair, cold metal from his rings touching the skin of your scalp. He meets your gaze, steady and quiet. Everything slows for a moment: the beeping of the monitor, the ticking of the clock, even the hospital noise outside. Shutting your eyes for a minute, you focus on the sound of his breathing.
“I thought I lost ye,” — He admits finally. — “I’m sorry, love. I should’ve protected ye. I won’t ever let anyone or anything hurt ye again. That’s a promise.”
He leans down to be closer, and you reach up, brushing your fingers against his jaw. — “I know you won’t,” — You whisper, letting your fingers weave slowly through his hair. — “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
He sits sideways on the bed, one hand still cradling your side while the other holds his own weight, and leans until your foreheads are touching. He doesn’t kiss you, but he doesn’t need to. He's talking to you through his breathing, thumb moving slowly in circles over your hip.
When Tara comes in a while later to check up on you and take your vitals, she pauses at the door. You’re asleep and Chibs has moved to the armchair by the bed, but he’s still leaning close to you, hand caressing your head, watching you sleep.
She doesn’t say a word, smiles, and shuts the door quietly.
Drifting awake, you inhale the scent of cologne impregnated into the white sheets. The sun rays seep through the curtains, catching on the dust specks floating lazily in the air.
For the first time in days, the world feels normal. You’re back at the clubhouse. Back at home. You never thought of saying those words, but it’s true. It’s ironic considering what happened, but you feel safe within these walls.
And you feel trusted now. You’re no longer under protection because you’re a liability for the club, but because they care about you.
You haven’t felt cared for in a long time.
“Mornin’. Did ye sleep okay?” — Chibs’ leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, buttoning his black shirt. He looks tired, with dark circles shadowing his eyes, but the stiffness on his shoulders has eased.
“I slept great,” — With a soft smile, you try to sit up, but your side protests. In a blink, Chibs’ shadow crosses the room in a quick stride, steadying you.
“Easy love,” — He mutters, one arm curling around your waist to help you up, and you chuckle softly, cheek brushing against his chest.
“I’m not made of glass, Filip.”
Something changed in the last couple of weeks. You’re ‘love’ and he’s ‘Filip’. It’s easier now – the way he kisses you in front of everyone, and they all just know there’s something more growing between you.
“Ye scared the shit outta me once,” — He grumbles, both arms lacing your waist to pull you closer. You hook your arms around his neck, smiling against the rough edge of his jaw.
You take in the scent of cologne mixed with shower gel and the faint hint of his morning cigarette. One hand brushes softly through his greying beard.
“You smell good.” — You whisper.
Brushing his lips against yours, Chibs lets out a low hum. — “Aye?”
“Aye,” — You repeat, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. His lips find yours, slow, deep, and careful. You sigh happily when the kiss breaks. — “Can you help me change? I wanna go downstairs for coffee.”
You’ve barely finished the sentence when his hands slide under the waistband of your sweatpants. — “Love, ye don’t need to ask me twice.”
It takes you a while to get downstairs. You’re out of breath just from crossing the hallway, but it helps that Chibs is supporting some of your body weight, one arm looped around your waist, while guiding you carefully through the last steps.
“Hey, look who’s finally up!” — Juice chants from across the room, making them all look toward you.
Bobby’s behind the counter, flipping pancakes on a griddle that has probably been through more club wars than he has. — “Well, well,” — He grins. — “Thought you’d be napping forever, sweetheart.”
You laugh weakly and tiredly, shaking your head. — “Ah, you’d miss me too much.”
“Damn right,” — Kip adds from the couch. Judging by the new patches on his cut, he has officially been patched into the club and is no longer a prospect. You’re happy for him. It’s dangerous, but what he wants. — “Good to see you up, PJ.”
Chibs guides you to the closest barstool, hand steady on your back, and Bobby sets a steaming mug of coffee in front of you before you can even ask. It’s perfect. Black and very sweet, just like you usually like it.
“Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” — Tig nods at you, showing a grin more caring than he’s ever shown since you’ve been here.
It seems like he finally warmed up to you. Guess all it took to prove you intended to take a bullet for his Scottish brother.
Your eyes flick toward Chibs, whose only answer is a quiet smirk, and watch you sip the hot coffee.
“Ahm,” — You clear your throat, setting the mug down on the counter before turning to face the group. They’re all scattered around the main floor, but their eyes are on you. — “I wanted to thank you guys for coming to my rescue. Despite my wrongs against the club, you protected me. I hope I can repay that gesture somehow.”
“Darlin’, you did more than enough,” — Jax says, appearing from their Chapel room, a soft smile tugging at his lips. — “You’re family now,” — He looks between you and Chibs. One of his mentors. — “And we protect our family. You’ve earned that place.”
They don’t even know how much those words mean to you. The concept of family has been complicated for you in the last couple of years, but it’s nice to feel like you belong somewhere.
“Maybe next time don’t go so far as to catch a stray bullet,” — Opie adds with a teasing grin.
“Yeah, don’t need to go all out and be the center of attention,” — Juice taps your foot gently with his, mocking you like an older brother as usual,” — “You owe me a jacket, but the way. You bled out all over my favorite one.”
You throw him a napkin, and the room fills with laughter. Real laughter. Even Chibs lets out a quiet chuckle, finally relaxing his shoulders.
Jax approaches you after the clubhouse quiets down. — “There can’t be any more secrets, PJ. None. To keep you safe, I need to know what to expect and what I can count on,” — He speaks softly.
He’s so different from the Jax you knew from school. Grown-up, rough around the edges, but at the same time carrying the same softness behind the blue eyes.
“If there’s anything else we need to worry about, you gotta tell us so we can take care of it.”
“No more surprises, love,” — Chibs nods.
“There’s nothing else, I promise,” — You shake your head, feeling Chibs’ fingers sneak under your shirt and gently caress the skin of your lower back. — “Now that I know what happened to my brother, I can bury the subject and just grieve his death. I won’t tell my mother. She doesn’t need to know her son carried the blood of an innocent family on his hands and died at the hands of a coward,” — Your voice breaks a little, and Chibs leans closer to you. — “I would rather he remain a hero in her memory.”
Jax nods knowingly. — “Turning that stone would just make it more painful.”
“Yeah,” — You shake away the heaviness of the subject and then look up at him again. — “Other than that, I just have that little problem with the Mayans.”
“You don’t need to worry about that anymore,” — Jax says, and both you and Chibs narrow your eyes at him. — “Alvarez is backing off. Lin was playing him the whole time, and things have split over now.”
“Peace talk is actually working, then?” — Chibs asks, taking a sip from your coffee.
“Maybe,” — Jax shrugs, tone cautions but lighter. — “They’re focusing on their own turf for now. No bad blood with us, at least for the time being.”
You exhale, relief washing over you. For the first time in weeks, you won’t be looking over your shoulder all the time. The Mayans are backing off, the war is cooling down, and the club – the same one that once saw you as a dangerous pawn – is now your home.
And maybe, just maybe, this can be the start of something that isn’t chaos. Something that feels like living again.
Later that night, Chibs finds you out front in the quiet parking lot. The rest of the guys have either left for their own houses or retreated to their rooms at the clubhouse, so it’s just the two of you and the hum of the crickets.
“Ye shouldn’t be out in the cold, love.”
“I know. But it feels nice,” — You smile softly, leaning your head against his shoulder when he sits next to you on the picnic table. — “Peaceful.”
Chibs hums, retrieving something round and silver from his pocket. — “Here,” — It’s one of his rings, the thick one with the Celtic cross, and he hands it to you. — “I’d like ye to keep this one.”
You turn it over in your fingers, the metal warm from his touch. — “Why? I know this ring means something to you.”
“Consider it a loan,” — He shows a thin smile. — “Something to chase ye for if ye ever leave. And also a token. Something to keep me close, whatever ye are. Always.”
Your heart flutters at that. It’s the sweetest and most meaningful thing someone has ever done for you. And coming from him, it means a whole lot more. — “I didn’t know you were a spiritual man.”
He tickles your thigh and you laugh quietly. — “It’s just— I’m not a man of big words, Phoebe. I’m terrible at it. But I want ye to know that what we have means something. That I care about ye.”
You slip your index finger through the silver loop. It’s a little big on you, but you’ll make do. Maybe wear it on a necklace chain around your neck. Then, you lay your hand on top of his.
“You won’t have to chase me, because I won’t be going anywhere without you.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple. — “That’ll make things easier for me, love.”
You stay there for a while, leaning against each other and staring at the night. But then you look up, almost feeling euphoric. — “Take me for a ride.”
Chibs raises a brow. — “Ye just got out of the hospital. Ye got shot, remember?”
“And I didn’t die. So take me on a ride.”
He laughs, shaking his head, but he knows you’ve already won. With minutes, he’s fastening the helmet under your chin and helping you onto the back of his bike, careful of your bandages. When you're both settled, you circle his waist with your arms and lean forward, chest pressed to his back.
The engine roars to life in a low rumble, and the night air rushes around you – free, cold, and alive. Wrapped around Chibs’ torso, you feel weightless and timeless.
When he slows down about an hour later, back at the clubhouse lot, neither of you moves. The world around you feels muted and quiet. The ticking of the engine as it cools down, the whistling of the crickets, and your heart thudding, trying to catch up with the calm.
Chibs reaches back to squeeze your knee, turning his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder. — “Ye alright back there?”
You hum behind him, cheek still resting against the leather cut, enjoying his body warmth. — “Better than alright. Thank you, Filip.”
Chibs swings his leg over and then helps you off. Your feet have gone to sleep, and your knees wobble, but he catches your waist before you can even lose balance. Chibs steadies you like it’s instinct.
“See?” — You tease softly. — “I’m alive.”
He chuckles, that deep and gravelly sound you’ve grown to crave. You smile up at him, hands still holding onto the front of his cut. The silence between you stretches – not awkward, not heavy, just full of everything left unsaid.
The slow, creeping, and warm feeling that’s been simmering under your skin for weeks.
“Ye did good,” — Chibs murmurs finally. — “With everythin’. Most people wouldn’t come back from all of this, but… ye’re stronger than ye look. And ye even managed to keep ye’re smart mouth.”
“Someone’s gotta keep you humble.”
“Aye. Guess I’m stuck with ye.”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. — “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not a chance,” — His hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your jaw before his lips meet yours. He kisses you slowly and deeply. Grounding and real.
He meets your hand that’s on his chest, squeezing your fingers gently, especially the one looped under his silver ring.
“What happens now?” — You whisper.
“Now?” — Chibs hums, eyes flicking to your lips again before he shows a smile. — “Now ye rest and heal. And let me take care of ye.”
He nods, stealing another brief kiss from you. — “Aye. Ye’re one of us now, PJ. Always will be.”
You don’t answer right away. You just close your eyes and let his words settle in, the sound of them melting into the quiet night.
You think about how it all started — walking into this clubhouse as a stranger with secrets, how much you wanted to run from this place, from them, from him.
And now you can’t imagine yourself leaving.
“Am I an Old Lady now?” — You ask with a light chuckle under your tone.
“Ye can be whatever ye want to be. As long as ye’re here,” — Chibs squeezes your hand gently before leading you back toward the clubhouse. — “Come on, love. Let’s get ye inside before ye freeze.”
Inside, the lights are dim and the bar is empty. Someone left a record spinning on the old jukebox — slow blues humming through the silence. Chibs drapes his cut over your shoulders before sitting beside you on the worn leather couch.
You curl up next to him, legs folded under you, head on his shoulder. He rests his cheek on your hair and sighs.
“I think I could get used to this.”
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