The Worst Kind of Club Business // Gemma x Clay
Gemma has some club business for Clay to attend to, and it’s the worst kind…
Clay is dreaming. Something sweet about shooting guns and plethoras of money. However, a stirring beside him pulls him out of his pleasant dream state. He cracks an eye open, glancing over at his ol’ lady.
“Mornin’,” he grumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. A hum is all he gets in return from Gemma and he chuckles at her clear dissatisfaction with being even slightly awoken from her beauty sleep. Clay wraps his strong arms around her, pulling her close.
“You got club shit today?” Gemma asks softly, melting into the familiar warmth of his muscled body pressed against her own.
“Nah. Shit with the Mayans has calmed down for now. Jax can handle the club for today. I was thinkin’ about spendin’ all day right here. With you,” Clay smirks, his stubble tickling her soft skin as he presses a kiss to her shoulder, his calloused hand running along her side.
Gemma rolls over onto her back so she can look at him, a smirk on her face. “I’ve got some club business for you, darlin’,” she says slyly, her hand reaching up to cup his rough cheek.
“Yeah? What’s that?” Clay’s grin only grows. He knows exactly where this is going, and he isn’t complaining. That is until he hears what his wife says next, his cocky smirk instantly fading. This is not where he hoped this was going in the slightest.
“What?” he says, wanting to make sure that he did in fact hear her correctly, and that this wasn’t some kind of cruel joke. Or even a nightmare. Maybe he was still sleeping?
“I said, Luann and I need to do some shopping. It’d be nice to have an escort… And someone to carry the bags around,” Yup, he definitely did hear her correctly, and that smirk on Gemma’s face wasn’t making the news of this torture she had planned for him any easier.
Clay groans, rolling onto his back and rubbing his face. “Goddamn it, woman. Shopping with you and Luann? I’m a goddamn biker, not some personal assistant. What kind of slow, cruel torture is that?”
Gemma moves to rest her head on his chest, pressing a kiss to it, and looks up at him. “C’mon, baby. Please. I’ll make it worth your while when we get home,” she knows she has him exactly where she wants him.
Before Clay knows it, he’s practically a glorified pack mule. Bags are slung over his arms, and Gemma and Luann are walking ahead of him chattering about who knows what. He makes a point out of glaring at anyone who dares look at him with even a hint of amusement, or at all. His pockets, however, a strong contrast to the weight in his arms, feel lighter since Gemma has been convincing him to buy anything that she likes, thinks she might like, or that she might eventually need. Goddamn this woman.
That’s when he sees her make a beeline for the plant shop, and Clay’s heart drops. He might even be sweating. He groans dramatically, following her inside. There’s no use trying to stop her, shes too far gone.
“Clay! Look at these. They’re beautiful and would look perfect next to my azaleas,” Gemma muses, her pristine black manicure brushing against delicate pink petals.
Clay looks at Luann pleadingly who just smirks sympathetically, knowing better than to get involved in her friend’s marriage drama, moving to look at some flowers across the aisle. He sighs. “Gem, don’t you think we have enough plants at home? We’re practically living in a damn jungle.”
Gemma’s eyes narrow, and she turns to Clay, resting her hands on her hips. “You’ve been enjoying sitting in the greenhouse when you’re sulking and having your morning coffee, haven’t you?”
Then somehow, some way, Clay Morrow, President of SAMCRO, is leaving the store with not just shopping bags, but goddamn plants in his arms. Peonies to be exact, that need lots of sun, and to be watered every 7-10 days… Don’t ask him how he knows.
Eventually, Gemma has decided that he’s had enough of her torture, and they’re home. Finally. Clay has never been happier to see the goddamn front door, and that says a lot. Gemma grabs the plants from Clay’s hands and he puts down the bags with a relieved sigh. He follows her into the greenhouse, which is more of a brightly lit room packed full of plants and lined with windows. He leans against the doorframe, watching as she tends to the blooming flowers, and bright green shrubbery.
He pushes off of the door, and walks up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.
“I got somethin’ to wear. Special for you,” Gemma smirks mischievously, putting down her watering can and turning to face him, her hand moving to rest on his broad chest.
“Oh yeah? I’m startin’ to think I deserve somethin’ special after all that,” Clay teases back, his blue eyes meeting the same hazel ones he’s been goddamn lucky to look into for years.
“I love you,” she says, a soft smile on her face.
“This love is going to kill me,” he responds with a deep kiss, feeling her wrap her arms around his neck. After all she puts up with, it may just be worth it to see her smile. Even if their house is starting to look like an overgrown jungle.
**Trying my hand at some SOA/Gemma fanfiction and wanted to start with some domestic Gemma x Clay fluff as it wasn’t a side of their relationship we saw very often! I am open to taking requests (not just Gemma/Clay), and am always willing to take feedback! This is a shorter one - but am open to longer and multi-chapter if needed! Let me know what you would like to see. I hope this was enjoyed! :)
