bakerstreet | I've been out on that open road...

I've been out on that open road...

Motorcycle Club (AU)
SHIPPING MEME

In real life, motorcycle clubs that are truly "gangs," or "1%," are no laughing matter, a part of a dark and seedy underbelly that's far from pretty. Like with many cultural establishments with less-than-stellar reputations, though, fiction has romanticized these fringe fraternities with shows like Sons of Anarchy. To be fair, the life itself lends to the idealized: spending time on the open road, answered very little to very few, being able to take matters of life and liberty into your own hands, cloaking yourself in leather and tattoos and denim and the very essence of Americana. It all screams freedom and a wild lifestyle.

Equally wild and even more passionate is the love lives individuals involved in the motorcycle club lifestyles. When danger's at your back, it's good

HOW TO PLAY

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Terms and all kind of fun stuff found here.

PROMPTS

old lady: Or old men, because why not. Essentially, the official significant others of members, and it's all very serious - with some bikers even viewing their lover as property. They may wear the biker's jacket or ride on the back of the motorcycle.
brothers/sisters in arms: You know you're always there for each other, like family. Why not take things to the next level?
mechanics: They fix up the bikes. They may just fix up your heart, too.
civilian: The person you care for the most isn't in the life you can't leave.
other

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She's either a bounty hunter or your weapons source. Aw yeah]

The last thing he expected to see when he pulled into the lot of TM was a familiar truck with a woman leaning against the tailgate almost like she was waiting for him. Still, it wasn't a totally unwelcome sight and Jax parked, running a hand through his hair and then walked over to meet her.

"Didn't think you'd ever darken our doors again after the last time. What's going on, Nora?"

What does it say about your position in life that the most pleasant option you can take is get help from the Sons of Anarchy? Sure, she maybe could go find wherever Miles escaped to. Maybe she could hole up with her bounty hunter friends, but that's literally asking for a prison sentence. And then if she even gets near Monroe and his crew.....well. They've got a bullet with her name on it.

She takes a few moments before anyone comes out to hike her bra up a little and adjust her books in a little more pleasing display. Hey, she knows her audience.

Its a relief to see Jax come out though, and not his step-dad. She gives him a little wave, pushing off the truck to walk over to him. "Oh, you know me. I can't stay away." Too true, unfortunately. "But this time isn't gonna be as fun as the last visit."

Oh, he's aware of her history, probably as well as anyone given his past encounters with other clubs. "Depends on your definition of fun." He eyes thr truck for a moment before his gaze shifts back to her.

"You never come this far west without a good reason."

"Oh believe me, I have one.“

She gives him a tight little smile, the pulls up the bottom of her shirt to show him the bruise boot print across her ribs and stomach. On closer inspection, he might be able to see shadows of bruised under her foundation, but a split lip speaks more to violence than anything else on her face.

"Someone decided to pay me a visit and take everything I had." She winces as the pulls the shirt back down- even blowing on the bruise hurts like hell. "And I mean everything. They got my personal stash."

The explosives. So, you know. Things aren't great.

Jax noticed, but unlike a lot of women, Nora was more than capable of handling her own shit. The bruise though, has all humor gone from his face, eyes turning cold as his eyes jerk back up to her face.

"You know who did this?"

Oh, that one was easy. "Monroe's crew. I saw an 'm' tattoo on one of them. They really didn't try to be subtle." She's pretty sure it wasn't ordered- if Monroe even knew where she was, he would've ordered a hit. This was just plain stupidity and greed. Besides, if they'd been ordered, they wouldn't have touched her personal workbench. Anyone who knows what they're doing wouldn't touch live, half built explosives.

And see, this is another reason why she didn't really want to come all the way out here. Jax, as crafty as he is, is way to reliant on the his hair trigger temper. "I'm not here to get revenge, Teller. I need guns."

"And your ex has no idea I'm guessing." He only knew Miles in passing but the man wasn't the type to let something like this slide and Jax exhaled a breath.

"I figured, but you know I don't let shit like this slide easily, Nora. Monroe is a dick ." He was quiet for a moment.

"Meet me at my house."

Nora snorts, crossing who arms defensively. "Of course he doesn't," she says, "but even if he did, it wouldn't be his problem." They're done. They've been done. If he knew and wanted to help, maybe it would be different, but who even knows where the guy is?

But regardless, intense guys always have this thing about popping guy in her life once the position opens up. Case in point, this guy. She lets his first comment slide, and nods. "You're still at the rhe same place, right? Suburbs?"

When someone like Matheson left the life, it didn't go unnoticed, even if he was in a different part of the country and Jax shrugged a shoulder. "Just asking. You know how it goes."

At the question though, he nods. "Haven't moved since I took over the place, although it might be a bit messy. I'll be there in an hour or so, so make yourself at home."

"Yeah," Nora agrees in that quiet way she always does. "I know."

Thing is, it's not like Miles left with the intention to leave. A man that bloodthirsty would never be allowed to go, not really, not without federal protection and a hell of a lot of snitching. When your president and best friend goes crazy, though, a man takes steps. Nora knew it, accepted it- hell, she even pressed him to do it after bodies started dropping. But, of course, when a mutiny goes sour, you can't stay in the game either with a reputation for

Well, so he'd said. Nora was still of the opinion they could've made something of themselves out in Texas or back in Illinois, but no. Miles never listened to reason when it didn't suit his manly pain.

Nora shakes herself out of her little trip down memory lane, and gives Jax a curt nod. "Right." She turns on her heel and heads back to her car, waving him off. "If I don't find a key under the mat, I'm breaking a window." And she doesn't even give him a chance to reply before she's hopping back into her truck and cranking the ignition.

The Monroe incident had been something of a big deal given the size of that particular club and while there were those who might have agreed with the choices Miles had made, there was a code of loyalty.

And he'd broken that. Going into hiding had probably been the safest option, even if it had him on a lot of hit lists. But nobody had seen him in over a year and a half. Monroe 's new second tried, but he wasn't exactly on the same level as Matheson had been.

Jax waved her off and then went back to work until the others got back. It wasn't full club business, not really, so he just talked it over with Clay and then headed to his place.

Well, she didn't find a key under the mat.

Okay, so maybe she didn't really take great pains to look for one either. Luckily for Jax, his front door proves pretty easy to pick. She'll let him know later- if anyone needs to have actual security in his home, it's Teller. Then again, he's never been terribly concerned with the long run so it's not a huge surprise.

Nora lets herself in within minutes, and spends the rest of her time touring his house. It's been a while since she's been out here- two years, maybe more. Miles was with her last time. She remembers it being more of a bachelor pad then. There was a lot of pot, and everything kind of just had that stale beer taste. Now there's a notable presence of actual throw pillows and air freshener. Maybe he's got a girl now, or his mom is picking up the slack. Maybe he's on his way to being a real adult?

Nah.

On her round through the kitchen, Nora grabs a spare bag of chips for her own. He shouldn't mind, and if he does it's just one more thing to add to her list of favors she's gonna need to repay.

Edited 2016-04-04 05:15 (UTC)

It takes longer than he'd expected because there's some negotiation involved on what they can spare before Jax finally makes his way back to the house. He'd been crashing at the shop lately, but with Nora in town, it was probably time to move back home.

At least for a few days. He pulled into the driveway, turned the bike off and slid off before heading for the door, letting himself in.

"Looks like you found the place okay, at least."

By the time Jax shows up, Nora's already stretched out on the couch, boots up on the coffee table and mouth full of Lay's Original. His taste in potato chips is lacking, but she can't say no. They're still too good. The TV is on some daytime telanovela and at first she doesn't hear him come in, she's so engrossed.

And then he speaks, and Nora jumps about a foot in the air and twists, instinctively going for the gun in her boot. It's only after a moment that it hits her it's just Jax.

"Sorry," she says, straightening up to her full height, brushing crumbs off her shirt. "I'm a little jumpy, you can understand. “

"Yeah I would be too, in your shoes." He's seen what Monroe can do, after all and while they're out of the range of that crazy motherfucker, it's not a war he'd be looking to start.

But Nora's a friend. Jax exhales a breath and disappears into the kitchen to grab a beer before coming back out to join her.

"...I'll order a pizza or something for dinner. Haven't bothered to keep the fridge stocked since I've been sleeping at the clubhouse."

[Whatever he is, he's calling the shots on something.]

[She's got nothin' to do with this mess, y'all are just some gross bikers she don't need. <3]

[Liiiies.]

Sometimes business required him to travel outside the city, and there'd been some reports out of the smaller towns that had come to his attention, which meant he headed up to check them out himself.

Parked outside the bar and stepped off the bike before heading inside, a cursory glance telling him everything he needed to know.

"Can I get a whiskey or does this place only serve beer?"

It's getting to be kinda late, and by now Sookie isn't expecting any new customers for the night. It knocks her out of a new romance novel- from the library, of course- and she's shocked to see a stranger to town. Not only that, a biker.

"You're in Louisiana, it's a sin to not keep whiskey in a bar.“ She frowns looking this new guy up and down. They never get his type out here, and it makes her more than a little suspicious. Last time she saw any kinda biker, she got jumped in her own damn living room. Not a fan.

But money's money, and Sam would get after her if she turned someone away for no good reason. He's not hassling anyone, and besides, it's a pretty quiet night. The regulars aren't gonna make a fuss about him. "House, or are you looking for something nicer?"

"True enough." At least in the cities, but the towns tended to be hit or miss.

"House is fine if that's what you have handy." He drops onto a stool, sparing a glance over his shoulder before his attention returned to the waitress.

[Potentially OTA canonmates]

[ Based out of New Orleans and second in command of his club. ]

[can do it set in Sin City or AU it elsewhere]

[Joined under the false name "Wayne Merrick" has been traveling and earning his keep with the gang to keep moving around and have protection, essentially disappearing. Refuses to kill someone or hurt them if he can get away with it which can sometimes cause problems. Otherwise up for any ideas!]

[Most likely the leader or at least a damn good mechanic.]

There was a reason that Len was the leader of the Rogues of Central City. He was the best planner, the one who saw five or ten moves ahead, the one who got them the right business arrangements that also kept the members free to ride and out of prison. Captain Cold they called him, and only one man could call him Lenny.

He and Mick had grown up together, each one watching the others' backs as they grew up, survived juvie together and even started in the gang as Prospects. But there was a clear delineation of power - Len was the brains, Mick was the muscle.

An accident at the garage had left Mick with thick scar tissue along his arms and back and while the club had offered to pony up the money to pay for tattoos to cover the damage, Mick had simply shaken his head and told them to invest it in beer. The Rogues were his family and he shouldn't have to hide from them, right? So the big man kept an eye on things while Lenny kept his attention focused on the much bigger picture. It was a good partnership, one that had served them well so far.

Len, like many of the other riders of the Rogues, had had a bad upbringing. An abusive father had been in and out of jail more times than he could count and he'd been left to raise his baby sister mostly on his own. He'd taken the brunt of the abuse too as he made it his goal to keep his Father's drunken anger off of his sister at all costs. He grew up learning to be a criminal, to be more successful than his father ever was so that the guy could maybe pretend to be a father and stay out of trouble. In turn he ended up in and out of Juvie, where he met Mick. As soon as he was old enough to get behind the wheel of a car and reach the pedals, he learned how to drive. He got his sister and Mick well away from his father Louis. They started the Rogues together, practically adopting loaners, thieves and runaways into their pack. Everyone went through tests to get into their family, they had to follow rules, a strict code. No killing, being the number one. They were thick as thieves, loyal to a fault and Len wouldn't have it any other way. Even if he plays it Cold, he takes responsibility for every life under his colors. It wasn't a big gang but they were strong and free and happy.

When the fire broke out in their garage it was Mick that dove through the flames to get him and Lisa out. They'd been the only ones in the place at the time, working or sleeping through the night. His Gang had been out partying. Some even began to wonder if it was really an accident or a rival gang deciding to torch the competition. They owned a few towns along the major highway by this point, easily riding in, stealing what they wanted and staking a claim. They raced, they fought and won their way to the top every time. Naturally others would be jealous of their reign. They were living like kings.

Despite how strong and successful they were, there were nights Mick could find Len alone, unable to sleep and unsatisfied. This life was almost too easy at times. Not enough of a challenge. No one fast or strong or smart enough. He always out-witted the competition in the end. He didn't drink or do much else than ride and steal whatever he felt like. He could do as he pleased whenever he wanted, but it wasn't enough. He knew he wouldn't have any of this if it weren't for Mick. He wouldn't have saved his sister and given her a safe place and a new family. He's pretty sure, without Mick, he probably would've been dead long ago.

So most nights there was really only one way he could fill the void. When he wasn't out stealing, partying or just riding until he couldn't keep his eyes open, he sought Mick. His rock. His shield. His right-hand. His flame. The one place where he could feel safe. The one place where he could find a thrill and lose himself for awhile. Where he didn't have to keep a tight grasp on control. He could forget everything. All his cares, his worries and his responsibilities, even for just a moment. And it was the only way he could think to thank Mick when words weren't ever enough. The two of them weren't good with pretty words of appreciation anyway. He'd sooner show it with something more physical and they sure as hell didn't do signs of affection. The man had saved his life time and time again, the best way he thought to honor that was to come together, move together and to feel more alive than ever. Just the two of them indulging in a bond no other in their group would ever come to know or understand.

Tonight was no different. He was restless and despite the happy atmosphere around them, Len didn't seem to be really enjoying himself. He rarely ever took part in festivities, more content to sit off to the side, have a beer or two then slip off in the middle of the drunken revelry. He didn't really like to see his sister get all flirtatious anyway, the typical big brother in him didn't ever want to see her grow up. Even if she was already well into her 30s he didn't like to see her kissing boys, or girls, depending on her mood. But he couldn't very well ruin her fun either. She was an adult, she could do what she wanted. And if anyone hurt her he'd hunt them down and teach them never to do it again. Simple as that.

He finishes his drink and sets it on the bar before casting a look to Mick. As they make eye-contact he'll nod as a silent tell that he was leaving for the evening and that he's certain things were under control. It was then up to Mick to follow him or not. He'll walk out of the bar and pause on the pavement, closing his eyes as he breathes the cool night in. It's just cold enough that he can see his breath, just the right amount of chill to make him feel absolutely alive and at peace.

Most of their communication was unspoken. Thoughts and intent shared in a look. A bond that Mick would be hard pressed to define shared in touch and movement. It was more than friendship, more than loyalty. Snart had given him purpose, a family he could fight alongside. Loyalty without question.

So when he found Len on those restless nights, Mick knew what he needed.

A night like tonight. The party will last long into the night, but he can trust the other Rogues to keep things under control as he follows Len out into the cool night air. The big man moves quietly, only the faint creak of leather giving him away as he falls to a stop beside him.

"Good haul tonight. Should keep them happy for a few days at least."

"Yeah." A soft, slow exhale.

"We can set up camp here for awhile. Rest up before we set our sights elsewhere." The town was better off for it, even if many of the locals wouldn't see it that way. Better the Rogues owned them than another gang, one that would terrorize everyone for the thrill of it. He and his gang got their kicks, and despite their no kill policy, he wasn't above doing what needed to be done at times. Usually that job fell on him or Mick though, they were judge, jury and executioner when it counted. His underdogs caught hell for it if they got out of line or out of hand and broke the rules by being reckless, if it was self defense that was another story.

"Got a few things to look into anyway." He steps over to his bike and slings a leg over to straddle it, picking his goggles up from around his neck to set them on his face.

"I'm heading back for the night. Stay, have a good time. You earned it." And he meant it, but he wasn't telling Mick to keep his distance either. None of their ranks really knew what went on between them, though he was sure some had to suspect there was more there than a life time of surviving hell together. Only Lisa really knew the truth and she wasn't telling. Snart would leave first and when Mick was ready, he'd follow, make it look like they hadn't planned to leave together. No need to run off looking like an inseparable married couple. And if their enemies were watching, they wouldn't have much of a clue anything might be going on.

Len will set his helmet in place and rev up his bike before leaving to their newest HQ. He'll get comfortable in his quarters and contemplate this new city or his next move. He plans out every step they make for the next few days of staying here, thinking of contingencies if a rival gang arrives or the cops try to lay down the law on them. It was a somewhat sleepy town, they had time. He's kicked back on his desk, leaning back in his chair, feet propped up as he folds his hands in his lap and stares up at the ceiling in thought, as if he had an unseen map above his head telling him all the moves to make.

Most of the locals might disagree, but the ones who had lived there the longest, the older generation knew that while the Rogues weren't exactly desired it could have been a hell of a lot worse. They stole and raced and maybe made too much noise, but no innocent civilians got caught in the crossfire. If things got too hairy, Mick was the one to step in first, the one to do the killing or deliver the beating before it fell to Len. Mick was better at it and while Len didn't shy away from the job that needed doing his talents were better served keeping the club together. Watching out for the Rogues.

"Mmh." A noncommittal sound as he watches Snart get on his bike and drive off into the night. They both knew damn well that he wasn't going to stay behind, that he was going to seek him out, but a lifetime of fighting and watching one another's backs meant that they kept their.. more intimate activities hidden from everyone. Both the Rogues and anyone else who might be watching.

Mick makes another circuit at the party, checking in on Hartley, Lisa and a few others before getting on his bike and striking out on his own.

It's fifteen minutes before he's closing the door behind him, watching Len with a vaguely amused expression on his face as he drops on to the battered old couch. "Y'know I can hear you thinking from here."

Len only seems to acknowledge Mick after he's spoken up, tilting his head to cast that knowing blue gaze on his partner. He shifts to put his feet on the floor and fold his hands over the desk, smirking softly with something mischievous in his eyes. Mick most likely isn't here for chit-chat and Len wouldn't have it any other way. They weren't usually the type for small talk anyway.

"Yeah? And what am I thinking about?"

Something about the mischief in his eyes is both thrilling and arousing - Mick knows that it either means a good fight or a good night spent tangled together. Or if he was lucky? Both. Still, he knows that it means only good things and relaxes a little more, stretching easily on the couch as Len shifts again and settles himself.

This was always the fun part. The absent attempt at banter before they got to what both of them were really there for.

"Everything. Nothing. The next score, how the last one went. Takin' it all apart in your head over and over again. We're good Lenny. We've taken out the last of Zoom's team. Think everyone's earned the break, including you."

There's a light shrug and a tick of his head to one side as he considers the idea of a break and sort of half agrees, half shrugs it off. That glint is back in his eye as they roam over Mick. He'll rise out of his chair and walk around the desk to approach his partner. He'll easily straddle his thighs and slip into his lap, somewhat possessively looking down his nose at him, considering him. He wraps his arms around his broad shoulders and smirks.

"You might have to make me."

Just that slow saunter over is enough to send a rush of heat through him. Mick makes a pleased sound as Len makes himself comfortable, wrapping big arms around his partner and rumbling a laugh against his lips. "Mm. Thinkin I can come up with a few ways to do that, boss."

The kiss is slow and lingering, slow building heat between them. The rest of the Rogues are safe tonight. They can afford to take their time. Calloused hands slide up the long lines of his back, across leather and cotton and the warm, firm muscle beneath.

[Canonmates OTA]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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