Opie/Corrie After the Mayans

Corrie stomped into her house. They were fucking Muling Coke. Fucking COke. The council wouldn't give a damn about that, but she did.She hadn't noticed Opie coming in behind her.

Opie grabbed her arm lightly, pulling her back to him, "Damn it, Corr. Will you calm the fuck down and tell me what's wrong?"

Her blood ran cold, "Don't touch me," she growled, "no one touches me."
she yanked herself lose and backed away from Opie, "How in the hell do you expect to keep the guns safe while you mule coke?"

Opie threw his hands up, "Not my call, Cor! Look, Clay got us into this shit and Jax and I are trying to find a safe way out which is near to fucking impossible without someone getting killed!"

She absently rubbed her arm where Opie had grabbed her, her normally cool and collected exterior starting to crack, "The council won't give a damn. It's my own issue. Still, what the hell were you people tinking?"

She leaned against the wall. It had been years since she'd had a panic attack, but opie's grabbing her was pretty effectively throwing her into one. She was pissed. It would be a vicious attack.

Opie sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Fuck...Corr, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to freak you out..."

She started shaking, trying to catch her breath. The only thing to ever help with her panic attacks was facing the shit that caused it head on, "Grab me Opie. Seriously," she hissed, "Grab me."

Opie was hesitant at first, but he couldn't stop himself from pulling her into his arms and holding her close, "Corr...calm down."

At first Corrie scream and thrashed about against Opie. Screaming for him to let her go, barely breathing, tears streaming down her face. Faster than it would have otherwise, though, the attack subsided and she rested her head against Opie's chest, spent.

"Tank you, Opie," she hiccuped, enduring the tail end of her tears.

She knew Chibs had to have told them about her passed. Silently, she thanked the man.

Opie held on to her tightly as she fought against him. At last, he stroked her hair gently, kissing her temple so lightly, " I should have told you...I'm sorry."

She sighed, unsure of how to deal with such intimacy, "It wasn't the coke that caused that. When I said no one touches me, I meant it. No one touches me. I can't deal with it." she shivered against him, " We all have our demons."

He smelled like leather, earth, and rain. She fought back the urges to psh away from him. Trying to process what being held by a man was like.

Opie nodded, still holding her close, "I really am sorry."

For the first time, Corrie was beyond frustrated with her inability to touch. It seemed like such a simple gesture and she had gone without touching anyone, except her family, in any meaningful way since 14. She sighed raggedly. The memory of cuddleing with her mother or huggong her father brought tears to her eyes but she refused to let them fall.
"Isn't your fault boy-o," she squirmed in his arms, "I haven't even really hugged anyone but Dita until right now. And tis hard for me even now, " in an unexpected shiw of emotion she looked up at him, "It's part of why I'm so good at what I do. They stole my ability to be close to anyone."

Opie reluctantly let her go, "I can't imagine being like that. I did, however, tell my ex that I didn't think I could love anything any more. Everything I love gets taken away."

Corrie knit her brow and squared her shoulders, "Opie, I'm sorry about your Da."

Her hands shaking nearly uncontrollably, she slowly inched her way towards his face. Her breathing hitched in her chest as she allowed her fingers to barely skin the surface of his cheek.

"I know what it's like to lose that much. It burdens your heart and paralyzes your soul," she whispered.

Opie sighed, "I should be glad I didn't have to watch him or Donna die...I can't imagine having to watch the people you love die."

She looked at Opie, feeling a profound sadness for him. It wasn't something she was accustomed to feeling. Ever.

"It was....the single worst moment of my life," she hugged herself, "Even after, when they tied me up, beat me, and tortured me with a knife trying to get information, the only thing I could focus on was my parents' bodies. Lying across the room, day in, day out for two weeks," she spoke, more honestly than she had with anyone.

For some reason, she wanted to reclaim some shred of what they'd taken, "Op, hold still and put your hands behind your back. Don't move."

She paced the floor for a second. Then, slowly, trying not to touch him more than she had to, she leaned up and ever so lightly kissed his lips. The sensation left her head felling warm and dizzy.

Opie fought the urge back to touch her: caress her soft hair or her spine. To hold her hips or gently cup her face. He fought back for the sake of trust. He wanted more than anything not to cause her any feel.

He gently kissed back, but remained still even though it damn near killed him.

She could see him struggling not to touch her. She pressed her lips to his harder. Her heart was beating out of control and her whole body screamed against her, but she raised a hand to shakily cup his cheek anyway. At some point, despite herself, tears began to slide down her cheeks. When she pulled away she was angry, hurt, and confused. None of which were emotions she was accustomed to. She wiped at the tears on her face.

"Good lord," she whispered.

Opie looked at her with a pained expression, "W-what can I do to make this pain go away? Just tell me...I'll do anything."

She flopped down on a chair rather ungracefully, "I wish I knew, Opie."

She looked up at him, studying his face. Something about this man was kindred to her. In some important way, they were the same.

"I don't understand, why you? Why now?" she mumbled, "I've gone so long without ever being close to anyone. What about you changes that," she ran her hands through her wind messed hair.

Opie shrugged, "I don't know but you have the same affect on me too..."

She stood and punched the wall, barely feeling the pain, "How in the bloody hell am I supposed to get close to someone when I am such a fooked up mess? How is it I can be in complete, cold, calculated control of everything but this?"

Opie shook his head, "I would be concerned if you were cool and collected. That wouldn't be normal."

Scarily slow she turned her head to Opie, "I'm not normal. At all. Even a little, lad. I'm broken. I NEED the control."