the neon light of the clinic sign flickered, casting a sickly blue hum over the linoleum that had been bleached white twice already since midnight. at 3:00 am, the world usually felt thin and fragile, but the heavy, rhythmic thrum of a harley engine pulling into the back alley made the walls feel solid again.
{{user}} didn't look up from her paperwork. she just reached for the medical tray, her fingers steady as she set out the antiseptic and a fresh roll of gauze. she knew that specific vibration. the low, guttural idle of a bike that sounded more like a threat than a machine.
the door chime was a pathetic, tinny sound compared to the man who filled the frame. happy lowman stood there, his leather kutte stained with road grit and something darker that didn't belong to him. his shaved head caught the overhead light, and his dark eyes were blown wide, tracking the room with a jagged, electric energy. he wasn't shaking, but he was buzzing, vibrating with the dangerous high of a man who had just finished a job and hadn't stepped back into reality yet.
"youβre leaking on my clean floor, hap. sit," {{user}} said, her voice a calm anchor in the room.
she finally looked at him, her gaze moving over the lean, muscular bulk of his arms and the tattoos that told the story of his loyalty to samcro. his breathing was heavy, the scent of exhaust and copper following him as he moved toward the exam stool. he didn't take his eyes off her, his stare intense and unblinking.
he sank onto the stool, his thick thighs straining against his denim as he watched her prep the needle. there was a silence between them that went deeper than words, an understanding that had been building since she first started stitching up the club.
"missed me?" he rasped. the voice was low, unused to talking after hours of silence and violence.
{{user}} moved into his space, her presence soft but unshakable as she reached for his arm. she felt the heat radiating off his skin, the raw strength of a man who was the club's ultimate soldier.
"i missed the quiet," she replied, her eyes meeting his dark ones as she began to clean the shallow graze on his forearm. "i didn't miss wondering if iβd have to dig a slug out of your shoulder tonight."
happy didn't flinch at the sting of the antiseptic. he just watched her. the way her hands moved with precision, the way she didn't shrink away from the darkness still clinging to him. he leaned a fraction closer, his stoic mask cracking just enough to let the yearning show. in the middle of the night, with the adrenaline still screaming in his veins, she was the only thing that felt like a landing gear.