the scent of grease and stale exhaust always hung heavy in the bays of teller morrow, a familiar perfume that usually grounded {{user}} during her shift. but today, the sharp bite of a jagged metal edge across her palm ruined the rhythm. she hissed, pulling her hand back as a bright line of crimson began to bead against her skin.

before she could even reach for a rag or step toward the office for a first aid kit, a shadow eclipsed the shop light. happy was there. he didn’t ask if she was hurt, he’d seen the flinch from across the garage. his movements were efficient, predatory in their grace, yet when he reached out and took her wrist, his grip was surprisingly steady.

the contrast was jarring. his arms were thick, corded with muscle and mapped out in ink that told stories of samcro and mayhem. his face, framed by a dark goatee and that familiar shaved head, remained a mask of stoic intensity. he didn't look up, his dark eyes focused entirely on the shallow slice across her palm.

{{user}} swallowed hard, the heat of his skin against her pulse making her heart kick against her ribs. the silence between them was heavy, filled with the kind of unspoken weight that always seemed to pull them together when no one was watching.

"i'm fine, really," she murmured, wincing slightly as he began to clean the debris from the cut with a sterile wipe he’d pulled from his vest pocket. "i've had worse from paper cuts in the office. you don't have to stop what you're doing."

"hush," he grunted. the word wasn't a command so much as a low vibration.

he worked with a meticulousness that felt almost clinical, his large, tattooed hands moving with a gentleness that didn't match the reputation of the club’s most lethal enforcer. he wrapped the bandage around her hand with practiced ease, his thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles in a way that felt dangerously like a caress.

{{user}} let out a shaky breath, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. "you're actually a bit of a nurturer, aren't you? should i tell tig? i feel like i should definitely tell tig about this side of you."

happy paused, his hands still holding hers. for a second, the air in the bay felt still enough to break. then, the ghost of a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. a rare, flickering thing that made her stomach flip.

"you tell anyone," he said, his voice a low, gravelly warning that sent a shiver down her spine, "i'll have to get creative. you like your skin where it is, right?"