Chapter Text
His name was Jimmy Snakes, and his name, as corny as it was, was not an alias.
Stan knew he shouldn’t get involved. After they had finished fighting their way out of a dogfight, and after his head stopped spinning, he had gotten a good look at the leather jacket Jimmy was wearing; It had the skeleton of a Longhorn, surrounded by red and orange flames. The top rocker said ‘Speed Keepers’, and the bottom said ‘Nomad’. Those were the signature marks of an outlaw Motorcycle Club. Clubs like those were dangerous to get involved in. Even if you weren't a member, trouble was bound to end up on your doorstep just by association.
Though, Stan did feel bad for Jimmy. After giving him a cigarette, he had almost fallen flat on his face when he tried to walk. Stan had pulled the taller man’s arm over his shoulder, letting him lean his weight. Now he was half-walking, half-dragging Jimmy to his bike. The adrenaline rush had worn off, and both of them were starting to feel their injuries. Stan looked over his shoulder several times, squinting against the dark alleys, apprehension finally setting in. They were in no shape to defend themselves if they were being followed. Jimmy chuckled softly at the tenth time. “Paranoid, aren't you?”
Stan tightened his grip on the other man’s shoulder in response, jostling him. “C’mon, man. You didn't tell me you were in a gang. I just don't want to get caught up in whatever you guys do.”
Jimmy shrugged non committedly. “I didn't exactly have time to stop and chat. Breathe; nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
“How can you be sure of that? That they won't find me and finish the job later?” Stan's breathing was starting to get faster. He was kind of freaking out. If he got into a fight, it’d be with a group of guys he pissed off, or some debt collectors he was outrunning. Point is, he could take them on a good day. He had never gotten into organized crime; He knew that was something he couldn't outrun.
“Well, far as I know, you haven’t been in this town for too long. If you leave tonight, nobody is gonna remember you. And besides, I think you’re giving me a bad rep. My chapter isn't that bad. We just do some odd jobs here and there.”
Across the street, Stan recognized the black bike Jimmy had described to him, and he crossed it, pausing on the edge of the empty road as he propped the other man up, letting him lean on it with a sigh of relief. “Notice how you said chapter, and not Club?”
Jimmy gave him a guilty smile, a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Well, you got me there. But don't worry, our charter doesn't let us get involved with the drugs we sell, so we mostly do trades and bodyguard jobs.”
Stan crossed his arms over his chest, a bit taller now that the other was slouched. He had a clearer look of Jimmy’s face now, illuminated by the street lights on top of them. He looked pretty unbothered, despite everything. “Sell?”
Jimmy groaned and put a hand to his forehead. “Aye. It's like you hear the worst part of every sentence. But yeah, another chapter does. Not mine. ” He looked Stan over, scanning him from head to toe. “Hey, your car’s a bit away, isn't it? Let me drive you there. After tonight, we both know how risky it is to be alone.”
Well, he did have a point. He nodded, and Jimmy threw his bad leg over the other side, patting the open seat next to him. Stan sat down smoothly, scooting closer when Jimmy pulled on his belt. There was a tentative pause before he wrapped his arms around Jimmy’s waist, pulling him closer until they were flush. Jimmy quickly turned around, and Stan let go and leaned back, putting distance between them. Instead, there was a light weight on his head, and everything turned tinted, limiting his vision to a strip around him. He touched it, and felt smooth plastic.
Jimmy clicked the buckle close, tugging on it slightly to make sure it was secure. “Here. You need it more than I do. Hold on tightly.”
Stan was sure his face felt warm after that and resumed his earlier position. However, when Jimmy revved his engine and began to drive, he went forward instead of turning back, where his car was. The younger man’s head whipped to and fro, trying to remember the names and locations of where he was being taken, beginning to sweat slightly. Fuck. he had just gotten jumped, and now he was being kidnapped. It's always the handsome ones.
“Don’t worry,” Jimmy called over his shoulder, as if he could read his mind. His voice was muffled by the wind, “I’m just taking a detour.”
Stan didn't feel all that assured, but he wasn't going to argue with the dude driving the motorcycle. Quashing his anxiety, he opted to turn his head and admire the meager scenery around him. If he was driving his Diablo, he wouldn't have cast a second glance at shoddy buildings, a stark reminder of rundown Jersey. However, now that he was a passenger, everything seemed to flash by. The neon signs melded into one, and the shops became one mass of brown and black as they sped by. Even the road seemed endless. The wind got inside his jacket, and even though it was warm, it still felt nice against his skin. He would often keep his windows shut against humidity; no use in using expensive gas to cool down the car.
Just as Stan was starting to enjoy it, they slowed down until Jimmy rolled to a stop, kicking out the stand as he tilted the bike. Stan got up too, staying close in case Jimmy collapsed again. The older man tested his leg before he gingerly placed his weight on it, bouncing it slightly. When he walked, there was a slight limp, but nothing significant. He had probably sprained something. Nothing a bit of rest couldn't fix. Now Stan looked up at where they arrived. The bike was parked next to a cracked sidewalk, in front of it was a nondescript building, which sat on the edge of the block, one side connected to an ordinary convenience store. It looked a bit out of place. A solid brick wall right next to a well-lit one. Along the side were an array of parked motorcycles, with no owners in sight. Some were still shining with their brand new wrap, and others were dull with age. Stan held back when Jimmy walked over, and after inspecting for a few minutes, placed his hand on one with finality. It was a muted cobalt blue. The seat was a deep black, a similar color to Jimmy's, but slimmer along the back, all soft angles and round edges. The handles were at a comfortable height, and the seat looked well-placed. The wheels looked a bit worn, but perfectly functional. It was a tad roughed up, but well cared for. It was clear that whoever owned it loved it very much. Jimmy beckoned Stan over and patted it. “How do you feel about this one?”
Stan ran his hand over the seat, reveling in the smooth leather. A Harley-Davidson. The perfect model for long-distance riding. “Pretty good. I like the finish.”
“Good.” Jimmy replied, looking at his nails. “Then you can have it.”
“Have it?” Stan looked at him, hands stilling on the handles. “This is someone else’s bike.”
“Not anymore,” Jimmy said smoothly, and after seeing the imploring look on Stan’s face, continued. “Think of it as a hand-me-down.”
A shiver ran through Stan’s body at the words, and he hoped it wasn't visible. Something about that statement sounded strange. Where the hell did this bike come from? “A-Anyway,” Stan cleared his throat, trying to get a handle on the situation, “Why are you giving me a bike?”
“Everyone needs a Harley to join the Club.” Jimmy said matter-of-a-factly, leaning back on another abandoned bike.
“I never said I was going to join…?” Stan said slowly. This was starting to get a bit nerve-wracking. He wasn’t the most trusting guy to begin with, but Jimmy was seriously putting him on edge. All these slightly off statements were finally stacking up.
“Right… See, that's what I wanted to talk to you about,” He ran his fingers through his coal-black hair soothingly. “When I saw how you fought back there, how in sync we were, I just knew you’d be a perfect addition.”
“Hold on, now,” Stan took a step back, eyes flashing over his shoulder. He didn't really have a way out. He could try to run across the street, but he hadn't had any need to for awhile. He probably wasn't as fast as he was before. And Jimmy was his ride here. Damn! He shouldn't have gotten on the bike.
Jimmy raised a hand placatingly. “If you don't want to join, I won't force you. And if you want, I'll drive you back to your car, no strings attached. But I suggest you think this over. This could be an opportunity for you. I’ve seen men like you countless times: fresh out of luck, living out of their car, and barely scraping together enough for their next meal. If you come with me, I could help you with some of that. Take the load off your shoulders.”
Stan mulled it over. Embarrassingly enough, Jimmy had seen him through, like he put him in a petri dish and scrutinized him under a magnifying glass. And as much as he didn't want to admit to himself, he really needed any help he could get. He only had a few dollars, the clothes in his duffel bag, and the El Diablo to his name. When was the last time he had slept on a bed? It was like waving a carrot in front of a horse. “Fine… I’ll join.”
Jimmy clapped his hands together, satisfied. “Great! You can stay at my place for the time being. No hospital though,” He elbowed Stan goodnaturedly, and Stan found himself smiling despite the last few minutes, “We both know we can't afford it.”
“Is your leg any better?” Stan asked, a bit worried for him. He had grown a bit attached, after all.
“Hell no!” Jimmy exclaimed. “But it better be alright, or it won't like what happens next.” He took the bike from Stan, rolling it over the other side of the street, kicking out its stand. “Good thing it still has its key. We’ll come back for this and your car tomorrow. I’ll take you back.”
Stan was already by the bike, fastening the helmet back into place as he took his place behind Jimmy. Even as they drove further away, the ride fell short this time around. I guess time really does flash when you’re having fun. His heart squeezed a bit; His ma used to tell him that.
They pulled up to a stereotypically rundown little motel: Isolated flats. Desolate parking. Low, yellow lighting through plain curtains. Stan stepped off, putting his helmet back on the handle as Jimmy got off, swiftly unlocking his door. It swung open to reveal a moderately sized room. It was pretty clean for a rented room. Whatever meager items Jimmy had were stashed in a bag on the chair. Even the sheets were pristine. There was only one issue; there was only one bed.
“If you let me have the first shower, I’ll let you borrow some clothes. They might be a bit big on you, though.” The biker took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, kicking off his boots at the door. “Take your shoes off, by the way. Sorry about the bed, I wasn't expecting company.”
“It’s fine.” Stan said quickly, moving the bag onto the table as he sat in its place. He didn't want to get the sheets dirty. “You cool with sharing a bed?”
“Why not? It's just a bed.” Jimmy said, leaving his belt on the floor as he stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “There are worse things to be sharing.” He called through it.
Stan blinked. Wow. He was very secure in his masculinity. Pa would hate Jimmy, he thought, a bit amused. He waited quietly for Jimmy to step out, opting to lift up the jacket and look it over. It was well-used, but in a way that made it more comfortable to be worn, rather than fall apart. The top rocker and patch were slightly frayed at the ends, the loose fibers soft under the pads of his fingers. Though, the ‘Nomads’ rocker was still pretty new. It was firm with the way that tough fabric was. There were even spikes on the shoulders, though, that didn't seem like regulation.
Jimmy stepped out, clad in only a towel, rubbing at his hair roughly with another. There was still water dripping off his warm, brown skin, and Stan made to look anywhere except him. “You can go in, now.” He said as he put his shades back on.
Stan walked past him, purposely slow to make it look like he wasn’t trying to escape the situation as he shut himself in the bathroom. He put his back to the door and slid down, pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes. What the hell was he doing? He had known this guy for less than 6 hours. And now he was in his bathroom ? Shaking his head, he stripped his clothes and turned on the faucet, sighing as the hot water cascaded down him. He hadn’t showered in a long time, and the feeling of water felt heavenly, especially on his sore muscles. He scrubbed at his hair with the cheap shampoo, and melted even more at the feeling of being clean.
The door unlocked momentarily, and shut again. “I just left some clothes here for you.”
Stan called out a quick thanks , turning off the shower as he stepped out, standing on one part of the tile to make sure he didn't splash water everywhere. He toweled off and changed into a wife beater and black shorts that went down to his knees. The wife beater was a bit tight against his stomach, but he sucked it in. It was already one thing to share a bed with some random dude, but to get in shirtless? That was a line he wasn't willing to cross.
He stepped out and saw Jimmy in bed, on one side and fast asleep, if his slow breathing was anything to go by. Stan lifted the covers and slipped in next to him, sticking to his side quite firmly. The sheets were cool against his warmed skin, and it felt like a balm from the humid weather outside. The aircon was on as well, adding to the comfortable chill. He looked next to him. Jimmy hadn’t moved an inch since he slipped in. Guess that fight really tuckered him out , Stan thought. At those thoughts, his own eyelids became heavy, and he closed them, already drifting to sleep. So am I…
Whatever mess he was in right now, he would figure it out tomorrow.