Although Barry says that he is playing against his physicality I think he truly is playing into his own personality of kindness and gentleness. A gentle giant if you will….
Since I’m too excited about all of this, I’m posting again! Who needs a schedule??
As always, thank you so much for joining me on this lovely little journey far from canon. We don’t need her. :)
All of your comments/interactions/reblogs just mean so much. I appreciate all of them, and they fuel my writer fingers to keep writing. :)
EZ glanced up from the cards in his hand. The club had a meeting later that day, and he had some time to kill between his shift at the yard and Templo. He was relieved to no longer be a prospect, but it was a rough time to finally become a patched member. Part of him wished he didn’t have to be directly involved in all of this shit.
Coco’s car was coming down the gravel drive, leaving a spray of dust and dirt behind it. He had barely parked up when Gilly moved across the lot faster than any of them had seen him move in a long while. EZ shook his head, keeping his focus on the cards in his hand. This wasn’t a scene he really wanted to watch.
Gilly hauled Coco out of the driver’s seat, pushing him back against the car. Coco grunted at the force and scrambled to keep his feet under him, losing traction on the gravel..
“Shit, Gilly, can’t you give me a minute?” he complained, his voice ragged with emotion. It wasn’t the reaction the big biker had expected so he backed off a pace, giving Coco room to catch his breath. He’d been prepared for Coco’s usual defensive stare, but the hopelessness in his eyes stopped the other Mayan in his tracks.
Coco glanced over Gilly’s shoulder, glad to see that Bishop and the others had gone inside the club house. Gilly followed his look, stepping closer to get back in Coco’s face. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to let Coco’s erratic behaviour go on any longer.
“Can we talk somewhere else?” Coco asked, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirtsleeve. He was clearly uncomfortable. “I know I been fucking up,” he admitted, hanging his head.
“We aren’t covering for you any more, Coco. This is it. Figure your shit out,” Gilly told him, his voice cold. Coco was sure that all of his brothers’ shared the sentiment.
“Yeah, I know.” A bit of Coco’s earlier vulnerability was dissipating, quickly replaced by defensiveness at being called out like this. It was deserved, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
Gilly levelled him with a look. It was severe enough that Coco was a little shocked it didn’t come with a fist, too. The intended meaning wasn’t lost on him, and Coco relented, pushing the sleeve of his shirt up.
“Fuck, I don’t want to be involved in any of that,” Gilly grumbled, turning away from Coco. Everyone knew exactly what had been going on, but they were trying to be understanding, give Coco space so they could all pretend it would get better.
“Me neither,” Coco explained. “This shit hurts so bad, I can’t take it without drugs, man,” he continued, gesturing to his scarred eye. “But this, this is gonna cost me everything.”
“Bishop’s pissed, and I ain’t covering for you again,” Gilly reiterated, his attention diverted to a pair of bikes headed their way. “We got Templo later but keep as much distance as you can until you get it fixed.”
Coco heard the bikes now, and he turned slightly to look at them. They didn’t belong to Mayans. Gilly disappeared into the clubhouse, coming back out with Bishop and the rest of the club in tow.
The bikes stopped just in front of the clubhouse, the riders stepping off and marching up to the door without an invite. It wouldn’t normally be acceptable, but Coco noticed the Reaper on the back of their kuttes.
“Ah shit,” Coco swore under his breath, recognizing the taller of the two. He walked over to join his club brothers, wondering what the hell was going on. This was the last confrontation he was prepared to have right now.
He stepped up next to EZ, folding his arms over his chest. Coco didn’t fail to notice the way Happy looked him up and down, clearly taking in the bruises on his face and the track marks on his arm. He quickly readjusted his sleeve, trying to hold Happy’s stare.
Coco wasn’t easily intimidated, but he felt certain that the specific cold, hard look on Happy’s face was probably the last thing a lot of people saw. It nearly made a chill run down his spine.
“Happy, Allesandro,” Bishop greeted, stepping in front of his club members. Everyone could feel the tension hanging in the air.
“Just a courtesy visit,” Happy began, his posture relaxed despite the hand resting on the hilt of his knife. “Packer’s sick. He asked me to take over San Bernardino while he’s away.”
Bishop frowned. “So you’re letting us know about a change in leadership?”
“We also wanted to remind you not to ride through SoA land without a call,” Allesandro added, keeping his shoulders square as Angel took a large step towards him.
“So you roll up without notice to remind us about respect?” he spat, tilting his head to look down at the Son. “How’s that work?”
“We just don’t want you finding out the hard way. Actions have consequences,” Allesandro continued, not backing down as Angel stepped off the stair and almost into him.
EZ grabbed the back of his brother’s kutte, pulling him back onto the porch with the others. Bishop gave him a look that would clearly turn into an ass kicking later.
“What the hell does that mean?” Bishop asked, turning back to Happy and Allesandro.
“It means a couple dozen dead Mexicans.” Happy’s voice was ice cold. Coco felt his hand jump to the grip of his pistol, but Happy didn’t even flinch. “Your old lady give you that?” he asked, nodding towards the bruises on Coco’s face. “Nah, you’d have to go home for her to get a shot in,” Happy finished with a chuckle.
EZ and Angel looked at each other, shocked that the Son would say anything that might give the others any reason to wonder about Kat’s relationship to Happy. Some of the others didn’t look concerned, but Bishop had picked up on the strange tension between Happy and Coco now.
Coco leapt forward, shoving Happy hard. The Son took a step backwards but easily countered Coco’s movements. Within a minute, he had Coco’s arm up behind his back and his face pressed into the roof of his car.
Happy looked over his shoulder at the Mayans standing in front of the clubhouse. It was clear that they wanted to help their brother, but they held their ground, waiting to see if Happy would give them a reason to fight.
“Like he said, we’re here on Chibs’ behalf. Don’t cross our territory,” Happy reiterated, leaning down to whisper something to Coco before letting him go. “I’ll take extra joy in putting a bullet in your head.”
The guys stayed where they were, the anger and disrespect easily readable in their eyes. This was a direct move to put them in their place, and it might not be a slight they would suffer.
After their meeting, EZ tried to catch Coco alone. The other Mayan was cagey and definitely on edge, but EZ managed to get a few moments with him as he was clearly trying to escape the clubhouse.
“Coco, got a minute?” EZ asked, stopping Coco as he unlocked his car. Coco’s shoulders slumped, and he turned to face the former prospect.
“I ain’t in the mood, boyscout,” he started, already preparing for a lecture.
“No sermon from me,” EZ assured, holding his hands up. “I just wanted to see how Kat’s doing with everything.” Coco’s brow furrowed.
“Doing with what?” he snapped, looking annoyed. “With my fuck ups?”
EZ shook his head, confused. “No, with San Bernardino's new leader.” EZ sighed, realising what Happy’s comments had meant. “You didn’t tell her.” The newest member let out a sigh that turned into a chuckle. “Oh man, she’s gonna be so pissed.”
“Whatever,” Coco grumbled, turning back to his car. He pulled the door open, not bothered that it bumped into EZ.
The younger Mayan took a step back, wondering if Coco was actually headed home to face his old lady’s wrath. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he really doubted Coco was.
