Coming Clean
Oct. 13th, 2005 10:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alliecat8Title: Coming Clean
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17, big time, Allie's corruption is now complete
Warnings: H/C, angst, graphic sexuality
Spoilers: Through Orientation, plus speculation and much wishful thinking
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
A/N: My eternal gratitude, again, to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eponine119 ,world's best beta, and to ellel and arabella_hope for giving my muse a much-needed
nudge. ;)
It had been days. Days of arguing with Locke and exploring the hatch and trying not to think about the ones they’d lost, the ones who had died and the ones who had sailed away into what Jack feared was almost certain death. He kept himself occupied, took on more and more responsibility, to keep his mind from wandering. From brooding. From remembering.
Then the day came when he made his way from the hatch to the beach and found that things had changed, again. The raftees were back. Without Walt. But Michael and Jin and Sawyer were home. Sawyer was alive, and he was here. And he saw Jack, he did, their eyes locked for an instant, then Sawyer very deliberately turned his back and walked away. Jack felt a sharp stab deep in his gut. Everything had gone wrong, there at the end. Sawyer had come home, but he hadn’t come home to Jack.
Michael, however, came straight to him. “We have to find my boy,” he said, without preamble. “Those people, they blew up the raft and kidnapped Walt. We made it back to shore and they found us," he motioned toward a group of people Jack had never seen before, "the people from the tail section of our flight, and they wouldn’t help me look for Walt. Where’s Sayid, we need to get organized—“
“Wait, slow down. Somebody kidnapped Walt? Sayid’s at the hatch, we have weapons there, we’ll take care of it. But what about the rest of you? Is everyone all right?”
“No, we aren’t all right! We’ve been walking for days, and the psychos that took Walt shot Sawyer, and the psychos from the tail section beat the shit out of us, and don’t go near that psycho brunette if you want to keep all your teeth –“
Jack only heard one thing. “They shot Sawyer?”
“Yeah, in the shoulder. You say there are weapons in the hatch? Where?”
Jack glanced around wildly, finally spotting what he was looking for. “Kate! Michael needs to get to the hatch. Show him the way.”
“You’re back!” Kate said. “Where’s Walt?”
“Michael can fill you in on the way,” Jack snapped. “Just go.”
“Yeah, right, just let me get my pack.” Kate turned to go and Michael, with one last anguished stare at Jack, followed her.
Sayid would find Walt. That was top priority. And Jack would help, of course, but he had other priorities as well. There were now more mouths to feed and more lives to look after and…did Michael say Sawyer got shot?
He found Sawyer a short distance away, in the jungle, kneeling on the ground and digging through a suitcase full of things he’d left behind when he got on the raft. He didn’t look up when Jack approached.
“Which shoulder?” Jack noticed that Sawyer was holding himself stiffly, his movements slower and more deliberate than usual. He was in pain, then.
“Ain’t your concern, Doc,” Sawyer said shortly. He glanced up at Jack, and there was something cold and bitter in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I can take care of myself.”
“Michael told me you’ve got a bullet wound. Take off your shirt, let me check –“
He took a step toward the other man and Sawyer flinched away, snarling, “Don’t you touch me. I’m not your patient, and you ain’t puttin’ your hands on me, ever again. Now go to hell.”
Jack froze, stunned by the hatred in Sawyer’s voice. He was the one who was supposed to be mad at Sawyer, not the other way around. He’d been the one who’d gone back, ten minutes after their last conversation in the jungle, after the stunned sense of relief and peace that Sawyer’s words had brought him sank in, after another emotion had surfaced that temporarily pushed the others to the back of his mind. He’d confronted Sawyer. “Three weeks,” he’d shouted, his outrage building and threatening to overwhelm him. “Three weeks, and you knew something like that, and you didn’t tell me? Every night, when we were together—“
“Fucking.” Sawyer’s voice turned icy in the face of Jack’s fury. “When we were fucking.”
“Yeah, okay, when we were fucking each other, every goddamn night, you were holding onto a secret like that. You waited until you were leaving to tell me—“
There was a flash of what might have been pain in Sawyer’s eyes, but it was immediately replaced with a sneer. “Wasn’t gonna tell you at all,” he said, his jaw jutting forth with infuriating belligerence. “Spur of the moment idea, a goodbye present, I guess. Thanks for a good time, here’s a little something to remember me by.”
Jack jerked back as if he’d been punched. Thanks for a good time? Holy God, was that all Sawyer thought it was? When they’d come together and talked together and slept together through every night, nights that made the days that followed them bearable in this unbearable place? They’d shared their bodies and their nightmares and their secrets, but Sawyer had kept one secret to himself, one thing he hadn’t intended to share. The very thing that meant the most to Jack. The cruelty of that shocked Jack to the core. “I don’t know you,” he told Sawyer, his voice raw with anger. “I never knew you at all.”
“Good thing I’m leavin’, then.” Sawyer turned away from Jack, pointedly, and lifted his axe to deliver a vicious blow to the piece of bamboo at his feet. “Now you won’t ever have to.”
Now, days later and with a lifetime’s worth of distance between them, Sawyer stared at Jack in cold contempt. “Go to hell, Dr. Do-Gooder, you ain’t needed here. I got stuff to do.”
His eyes were glazed, Jack noticed, and there was a slight flush to his skin that might indicate a fever. His clothes were filthy, his shirt torn and caked with blood and dirt and dried saltwater. He wore no bandage that Jack could see. Despite his words to the contrary, Sawyer was not taking care of himself and Jack couldn’t walk away, not if he wanted to keep calling himself a doctor. “I don’t see an exit wound.” Jack knelt down to get a closer look at the torn area of Sawyer’s shirt. “You’re going to have to let me get in there, take the bullet out, clean everything up, or you could die from an infection. A bullet inside of you means oil and gunpowder, and when you combine that with dirty cloth and dead skin, you’ve got a grossly contaminated –“
Sawyer leaned forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with Jack, still glaring. “I said, I can take care of myself. Ain’t any bullet, not anymore. I dug it out, threw it in the ocean. Don’t need you, Doc, never did.”
Jesus. Sawyer had performed a surgical procedure on himself? Using what? “How could you –“
Sawyer’s right hand shot up and he jabbed two fingers in Jack’s face. “With these. Don’t need fancy instruments, no fancy medical degree, no big fancy hospital, all I need are my own hands. You ain’t as indispensable as you like to think you are, Jack.”
This close to Sawyer, Jack could smell him. Sweat and greasy hair and old blood and something worse, decomposing flesh. And pus. He definitely had an infection. And he was going to let himself get sick and die, just to spite Jack. There had to be a way to get the stubborn son of a bitch to….”We’ve got a shower.”
“’Scuse me?” Sawyer blinked in surprise at this seemingly random change of subject.
“In the hatch. There’s a shower, hot water, soap. You reek, Sawyer.”
Sawyer jerked back, offended. “I just got back here, after gettin’ shot and spendin’ days with a bunch of headcases even worse than the ones I got stuck with here, and you’re criticizin’ my hygiene?”
“Medical supplies.” Jack got to his feet, signaling an end to the conversation. “There are medical supplies in the hatch. Antibiotics, alcohol, bandages. If you won’t let me help you, then do it yourself, but at least get everything cleaned up and bandaged, okay?”
Sawyer pulled a pair of jeans and a shirt out of his bag and rose, watching Jack suspiciously. “I can go by myself?”
“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “Kate is taking Michael there now. Follow them. I’ve got things to take care of here.”
“Good.” Sawyer nodded, all defiant satisfaction and hate-filled eyes. “You do your doctorin’ and I’ll do mine, and we can stay out of each other’s way from now on. Don’t wanna see you again, Doc, got that?” And with that he was gone, his proud, angry stride belying his exhaustion and pain, sending a clear message to Jack that he would never, ever let himself be seen as weak.
But he had, Jack thought as he followed Sawyer through the jungle, carefully staying just out of sight. He had shown his vulnerability to Jack time after time, night after night as they lay in the sultry darkness of Sawyer’s tent, bodies entwined. They had talked, in that necessary space between couplings, and Sawyer had been surprisingly open. He told Jack his real name, and asked him never to use it. They’d talked about the man Sawyer had killed, and the emotional and possible legal consequences of that mistake. They had talked about fathers. Then it was all hands and mouths and comfort and sometimes pain, but when pain merged with pleasure that intense it became something you craved, could never have enough of.
Then Sawyer said he was leaving, and there was no talking about that. He was going and that was the end of it. He didn’t even try to explain why. The night before the raft sailed they’d brought one another to orgasm time after time, and stayed up all night talking and touching and pouring themselves into one another, as if they could fill themselves with a lifetime of sharing in one single night. Jack had believed that he knew everything about Sawyer, everything, except why Sawyer had to leave. Until the next day, when Sawyer had sent Jack into an emotional spiral with the revelation of his final secret. It felt like a betrayal to Jack, after so many nights of honesty, after the betrayal of Sawyer’s abandonment. And Sawyer had abandoned him, that was clear now. In spirit as well as in body.
There was no lock on the bathroom door. Jack stayed out of sight as the rescue party left and Locke helped Sawyer get his bearings, filled him in on what they knew about the hatch, and showed him to the medical supplies. Then he followed him to the shower, opening the door just as Sawyer began to painfully peel his shirt away from his wound.
“God damn it, Jack, what part of ‘go fuck yourself’ don’t you understand? This is pathetic, you know, you followin’ me around –“
“SHUT UP!” Jack bellowed, crossing the space between them in one angry stride. “Shut up and hold still and let me do what I’m trained to do. You’ve made a complete mess of the job. You never even cleaned this, did you?”
“Well excuse the fuck outta me, doctor, I had other things on my mind. Sharks and burnin’ rafts and crazy-ass Rambo chicks—“
“Please shut up.” Jack took a deep breath and struggled to be calm. “Just hold still and let me do this. If you cooperate, it’ll be over sooner and I’ll leave you alone, okay?”
Then Jack was touching him, and after an initial stiffening of the muscles and a muffled grumble that sounded something like “control freak,” Sawyer allowed it. He held himself rigid and closed-off and distant, but he let Jack put his hands on him, and he gave up nothing in the way of emotion other than a sharp intake of breath when Jack probed his wound. “We’ll need to irrigate this,” Jack said, reaching to turn on a slow stream of water. “It’s probably good that you left it open, let it bleed, suturing would’ve trapped bacteria and caused the infection to flare sooner. Do you feel sick? Any chills, dizziness?”
Sawyer was warm to the touch but not burning, the wound swollen and oozing but not gravely inflamed. They’d caught it in time, then. A good cleaning, bandages, antibiotics….
“Jack.” Jack took a washcloth off of a shelf and wet it under the faucet, avoiding Sawyer’s eyes. “Jack, quit doctoring,” Sawyer barked. He stepped back, out of Jack’s reach. “Hold off for a minute and look at me, Doc.”
Jack didn’t want to, didn’t want to face the hatred he knew he’d see in Sawyer’s eyes. But what he saw when he finally looked up wasn’t hatred but something else, something that might have been pity.
“I didn’t want to come back,” Sawyer said, quietly.
“Yeah, I got that.” Jack ran an internal check on his emotions, looking for any trace of the anger he’d felt when Sawyer left. There was none. Now all he felt was the cold ache of loss. “Why did you, then?”
“It pulled me back. The damn island. Won’t let me leave.” Sawyer reached out and for an instant Jack thought Sawyer was reaching for him, but he only took the washcloth from Jack’s hand and began to clean his wound. “I could’ve stayed out there, at the other camp. I could live alone in the jungle and get by. The French chick’s been doin’ it for years. But I saw how those people from the tail section were livin’, primitive as hell, and our camp started lookin’ mighty good to me.” He probed the wound, harder than Jack would have if Sawyer had allowed him to help. “That’s not why I came back, though. Came back because I had to. Just like when I was out there on the water, caught in the current, gettin’ pulled back to the island. Somethin’ just kept pullin’ me back here.”
He moved toward the wall, bending forward so the warm water could sluice over his shoulder, and he let out a grunt of pain. It was all Jack could do not to go to him, run his hands over the golden expanse of his naked back, press his mouth against the pulse in his throat, let himself revel in the knowledge that Sawyer was here and alive. How in God’s name was he supposed to live with this man, see him every day, and not be with him?
Sawyer shoved his head under the water, bending at the waist to keep his jeans dry, and Jack silently handed him the shampoo. A minute later Sawyer straightened and shut off the flow, turning around to face Jack and flinging dripping strands of hair out of his eyes. “I’ll tell you why I left.” He looked Jack square in the eye, his blue gaze stark and unwavering. He took a deep breath and held it for an instant, and said, “I left because you’re in love with me.”
The silence stretched for an eternity, the only sound that of Jack’s throat working as he swallowed. He wanted to deny it. He tried to deny it. But what finally came out was, “And that’s what you do when people fall in love with you. You leave.”
“Yeah.”
“Because you don’t love them back.”
“Yeah.” Sawyer dropped his head, water streaming from his hair, running down his chest, dampening the waistband of his jeans. His breath hitched a little, and when he looked back up, everything had changed. “Yeah. Only this time, I came back.”
Jesus. Was he saying what Jack thought he was saying? That when he’d run from the Island, he’d really been running from Jack? And the anger he’d held between them like a shield when he returned, that had been just another form of running? If that was true, then what was this, now? He’d come back, and now all of the anger had evaporated, the shield was down and the look on his face was open and vulnerable and honest, and Jack knew in that instant that everything he felt for Sawyer, Sawyer felt for him as well. And Sawyer was terrified.
“It looks like we might be here, on the island, for a long time.” Jack had been slowly coming to accept that fact, and now that the raftees had failed, he was more certain of it than ever. “Nobody’s coming for us.”
“I know.” Jack knew that Sawyer had been forced to confront the reality of not being rescued after they’d lost the raft. “We’re gonna be together whether we want it or not.”
Want didn’t even begin to describe it. This was need, raw and primal. Jack moved until he was in Sawyer’s space, breathing his air. He raised his hand to Sawyer’s mouth and brushed his fingers across the tiny scar on his upper lip, a scar that Jack had put there himself. “I want it,” he said, leaning forward to follow the path his fingers had traced with his tongue. “Do you?”
Sawyer closed his eyes, a little moan escaping him as he shook his head, something in him still trying to say “no,” but his body swayed and molded itself against Jack’s and he groaned, “Fuck, yes.”
Fuck, yes, Jack echoed in his head, and brought his mouth down on Sawyer’s, hard. Sawyer parted his lips and Jack delved inside, his tongue sliding against Sawyer’s, thrusting, stroking. His hands streaked along the warm, bare skin of Sawyer’s back and down, over the worn denim of his jeans, to cup his ass and pull him more tightly against Jack’s body. The shoulder, he remembered, pulling back slightly, and Sawyer groaned in protest. “Can’t…,” Jack gasped, dragging his mouth away from Sawyer’s and skimming it across the rough stubble of his cheek. “Don’t want to…God.” Sawyer jerked his hips up, thrusting his cock against Jack’s already-raging hard-on and Jack couldn’t help it, he thrust back, hard. “Need to stay away from the wound…uh, not a sterile environment….”
“Jesus, doc, are we in an operatin’ room here? Sterile environment, for fuck’s sake. I know how to keep things clean. Strip for me. Now.” Sawyer reached for the shower knob and twisted it hard, and a torrent of warm water rained down, drenching them both. The thought flashed across Jack’s mind that they were going to have a hard time explaining to Locke why they were both wearing soaking-wet clothes, but then Sawyer was impatiently tugging at Jack’s shirt with his good hand and fumbling awkwardly with the snap of his jeans with the other, and all rational thought deserted him.
He knocked Sawyer’s hand away and made quick work of his shirt and his jeans, then Sawyer’s. “God those are filthy,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, watching the water darken as it pooled around Sawyer’s clothes. “We have a washing machine now.”
“Huh. Ain’t that special.” Sawyer kicked the clothes into the corner and pulled Jack up tight against him, hands sliding roughly over wet skin. “Now shut up and quit bein’ such a clean freak.” He bent his head and his mouth traveled along Jack’s jawline, up, to that sensitive spot just below Jack’s ear and he sucked, laved the skin with his tongue and bit, holding Jack with one hand behind his head and one wrapped around his thigh, pulling Jack in, rocking against him. The water sluiced over them both, making things slippery, washing the blood from Sawyer’s shoulder and the dirt from his skin and Jack wanted to finish the job with his tongue, to lick every inch of Sawyer’s body and bite him and suck him and claim him as his own. He groaned, “Fuck, oh fuck,” and ground his cock against Sawyer’s, reveling in the burn and the throb, almost undone by it and he captured Sawyer’s mouth again, assaulting him, devouring him. It had only been a few days but it felt like years since he’d had this, since he’d lost it and oh, thank Christ, found it again.
He broke the kiss, holding his upper torso back and angled slightly away from Sawyer, careful not to graze his shoulder. Panting, still thrusting his hips against Sawyer’s, he raised his hands to Sawyer’s face and cupped it, fingers bracketing his jaw and thumbs resting above those dimples that both infuriated Jack and drove him mad with desire. “Look at me,” he ordered, and wasn’t surprised at all when his voice cracked. “And you listen to me, Sawyer. You’re mine. You belong to me, and you’re not leaving me, ever again. You got that?”
Sawyer’s eyes locked with Jack’s for a moment and then he closed them, a gesture that was equal parts triumph and surrender. “You’re mine, Doc,” and it came out as a ragged groan. “You’re mine, and I don’t let go of anything that’s mine.”
Jack dropped his forehead to Sawyer’s, breath coming fast and hard against his face. “No leaving,” he insisted.
Sawyer shook his head and shifted, bring their bodies flush against one another, shoulders touching, mouths aligned. “No leaving.” The water ran down his face, over Jack’s hands, down his back as Sawyer’s hands streaked along his torso and around, between their bodies, to wrap around their straining cocks. He jerked them both hard one, two, three times, the water adding extra glide, extra heat, and Jack was too close already, so close after waiting so long. He pulled away, glancing briefly at the shoulder as he slid down Sawyer’s body, tonguing him everywhere, sucking moisture from his skin, teeth raking over his nipples and down, over taut muscle and smooth skin, to take Sawyer in his mouth. “Jesus, Jack,” Sawyer growled and bucked hard deep into Jack’s throat, pulsing against the roof of his mouth. Jack pulled his head back, letting Sawyer slide almost all the way out of his mouth, letting his tongue drag along the engorged vein on the underside of his cock. Sawyer gasped and surged forward again, bending at the waist, hips pistoning, and Jack reached up and cupped Sawyer’s balls and felt them tighten instantly, on the brink of release. Jack’s fingers slid away and encircled the base of Sawyer’s cock, gripping him tightly, stopping him from coming. “Jack,” Sawyer groaned, and there was a new, imploring note in his voice that Jack hadn’t heard before. “God Jack, let me…I have to….”
“Wait.” Carefully, not letting go of Sawyer, Jack got to his feet. “Where’s the soap?”
Sawyer stared at him, panting and dazed and incredulous. “There you go with the clean again. Focus, Doc!”
Jack leaned into Sawyer, one hand gripping his good shoulder, pushing him backward against the wall. With his other hand he groped on the shelf beside him until he found a bar of soap, and lathered his hands with it. Sawyer was staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes, comprehension beginning to dawn as Jack reached for his own cock and started stroking. The extra glide of his soap-slick hand was almost enough to send him over the edge. “Turn around,” he growled and with an answering growl of pure need, Sawyer did. Jack soaped his fingers again and wrapped one arm around Sawyer’s waist, bending him forward, sliding two fingers along the cleft of his ass and then deep inside. Sawyer bucked against him and shuddered when he hit the right spot, again and again. With just a few strokes Sawyer was slick and hot and ready and Jack coated his cock with soap again and slid it home.
Sawyer cried out and Jack paused, giving him time to adjust. Sawyer thrust back against him and said, “Quit worryin’ about everything, Jack, it’s okay, I want it, need it, now fuck me goddammit!” Unleashed, Jack began to move, the tight heat and Sawyer’s frantic groans making him wild with desire. He could feel Sawyer’s pulse throbbing against his cock and again he thought, alive. Alive and here.
Jack was leaning heavily against Sawyer’s back, water streaking down their bodies, and he could feel the burn of desire down to the soles of his feet as the water eddied around them. His thrusts were getting harder and more erratic and he tightened his arm around Sawyer’s waist as he felt his knees start to buckle. Sawyer braced himself against the wall with his good arm and he took his cock in his left hand and began to stroke himself roughly. That probably hurts, Jack thought, remembering how stiffly Sawyer had held his left arm, and he pushed Sawyer’s hand away and replaced it with his own. A few hard strokes and Jack slid his thumb over the slick head and felt him swell and jerk against his palm, and Sawyer reared back, tightening around Jack and Jack felt the spasms wrack him as he came, hard and loud, carrying Jack with him into the blinding white light.
They both collapsed against the wall as the aftershocks rocked them, Jack’s hand still pulsing around Sawyer’s softening cock, his face buried in Sawyer’s dripping hair, lips against the hot damp skin of Sawyer’s neck. He suddenly noticed that the hand that was wrapped around Sawyer’s waist was still gripping the soap. Lazily, he began to rub it across Sawyer’s chest. He released Sawyer’s cock and trailed his other hand up, slowly stroking the soap-slick skin, the tight muscles relaxing under his fingers and the soft steam rising around them and the sound of Sawyer’s moans of satisfaction and pleasure filling the air. Still buried inside him, Jack explored every hard angle and smooth curve of the other man’s body, memorizing him, even though he knew that now there was no need. Sawyer was alive and he was here, and Jack would never let him go again.
End
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17, big time, Allie's corruption is now complete
Warnings: H/C, angst, graphic sexuality
Spoilers: Through Orientation, plus speculation and much wishful thinking
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
A/N: My eternal gratitude, again, to
eponine119 ,world's best beta, and to ellel and arabella_hope for giving my muse a much-needed
nudge. ;)It had been days. Days of arguing with Locke and exploring the hatch and trying not to think about the ones they’d lost, the ones who had died and the ones who had sailed away into what Jack feared was almost certain death. He kept himself occupied, took on more and more responsibility, to keep his mind from wandering. From brooding. From remembering.
Then the day came when he made his way from the hatch to the beach and found that things had changed, again. The raftees were back. Without Walt. But Michael and Jin and Sawyer were home. Sawyer was alive, and he was here. And he saw Jack, he did, their eyes locked for an instant, then Sawyer very deliberately turned his back and walked away. Jack felt a sharp stab deep in his gut. Everything had gone wrong, there at the end. Sawyer had come home, but he hadn’t come home to Jack.
Michael, however, came straight to him. “We have to find my boy,” he said, without preamble. “Those people, they blew up the raft and kidnapped Walt. We made it back to shore and they found us," he motioned toward a group of people Jack had never seen before, "the people from the tail section of our flight, and they wouldn’t help me look for Walt. Where’s Sayid, we need to get organized—“
“Wait, slow down. Somebody kidnapped Walt? Sayid’s at the hatch, we have weapons there, we’ll take care of it. But what about the rest of you? Is everyone all right?”
“No, we aren’t all right! We’ve been walking for days, and the psychos that took Walt shot Sawyer, and the psychos from the tail section beat the shit out of us, and don’t go near that psycho brunette if you want to keep all your teeth –“
Jack only heard one thing. “They shot Sawyer?”
“Yeah, in the shoulder. You say there are weapons in the hatch? Where?”
Jack glanced around wildly, finally spotting what he was looking for. “Kate! Michael needs to get to the hatch. Show him the way.”
“You’re back!” Kate said. “Where’s Walt?”
“Michael can fill you in on the way,” Jack snapped. “Just go.”
“Yeah, right, just let me get my pack.” Kate turned to go and Michael, with one last anguished stare at Jack, followed her.
Sayid would find Walt. That was top priority. And Jack would help, of course, but he had other priorities as well. There were now more mouths to feed and more lives to look after and…did Michael say Sawyer got shot?
He found Sawyer a short distance away, in the jungle, kneeling on the ground and digging through a suitcase full of things he’d left behind when he got on the raft. He didn’t look up when Jack approached.
“Which shoulder?” Jack noticed that Sawyer was holding himself stiffly, his movements slower and more deliberate than usual. He was in pain, then.
“Ain’t your concern, Doc,” Sawyer said shortly. He glanced up at Jack, and there was something cold and bitter in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I can take care of myself.”
“Michael told me you’ve got a bullet wound. Take off your shirt, let me check –“
He took a step toward the other man and Sawyer flinched away, snarling, “Don’t you touch me. I’m not your patient, and you ain’t puttin’ your hands on me, ever again. Now go to hell.”
Jack froze, stunned by the hatred in Sawyer’s voice. He was the one who was supposed to be mad at Sawyer, not the other way around. He’d been the one who’d gone back, ten minutes after their last conversation in the jungle, after the stunned sense of relief and peace that Sawyer’s words had brought him sank in, after another emotion had surfaced that temporarily pushed the others to the back of his mind. He’d confronted Sawyer. “Three weeks,” he’d shouted, his outrage building and threatening to overwhelm him. “Three weeks, and you knew something like that, and you didn’t tell me? Every night, when we were together—“
“Fucking.” Sawyer’s voice turned icy in the face of Jack’s fury. “When we were fucking.”
“Yeah, okay, when we were fucking each other, every goddamn night, you were holding onto a secret like that. You waited until you were leaving to tell me—“
There was a flash of what might have been pain in Sawyer’s eyes, but it was immediately replaced with a sneer. “Wasn’t gonna tell you at all,” he said, his jaw jutting forth with infuriating belligerence. “Spur of the moment idea, a goodbye present, I guess. Thanks for a good time, here’s a little something to remember me by.”
Jack jerked back as if he’d been punched. Thanks for a good time? Holy God, was that all Sawyer thought it was? When they’d come together and talked together and slept together through every night, nights that made the days that followed them bearable in this unbearable place? They’d shared their bodies and their nightmares and their secrets, but Sawyer had kept one secret to himself, one thing he hadn’t intended to share. The very thing that meant the most to Jack. The cruelty of that shocked Jack to the core. “I don’t know you,” he told Sawyer, his voice raw with anger. “I never knew you at all.”
“Good thing I’m leavin’, then.” Sawyer turned away from Jack, pointedly, and lifted his axe to deliver a vicious blow to the piece of bamboo at his feet. “Now you won’t ever have to.”
Now, days later and with a lifetime’s worth of distance between them, Sawyer stared at Jack in cold contempt. “Go to hell, Dr. Do-Gooder, you ain’t needed here. I got stuff to do.”
His eyes were glazed, Jack noticed, and there was a slight flush to his skin that might indicate a fever. His clothes were filthy, his shirt torn and caked with blood and dirt and dried saltwater. He wore no bandage that Jack could see. Despite his words to the contrary, Sawyer was not taking care of himself and Jack couldn’t walk away, not if he wanted to keep calling himself a doctor. “I don’t see an exit wound.” Jack knelt down to get a closer look at the torn area of Sawyer’s shirt. “You’re going to have to let me get in there, take the bullet out, clean everything up, or you could die from an infection. A bullet inside of you means oil and gunpowder, and when you combine that with dirty cloth and dead skin, you’ve got a grossly contaminated –“
Sawyer leaned forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with Jack, still glaring. “I said, I can take care of myself. Ain’t any bullet, not anymore. I dug it out, threw it in the ocean. Don’t need you, Doc, never did.”
Jesus. Sawyer had performed a surgical procedure on himself? Using what? “How could you –“
Sawyer’s right hand shot up and he jabbed two fingers in Jack’s face. “With these. Don’t need fancy instruments, no fancy medical degree, no big fancy hospital, all I need are my own hands. You ain’t as indispensable as you like to think you are, Jack.”
This close to Sawyer, Jack could smell him. Sweat and greasy hair and old blood and something worse, decomposing flesh. And pus. He definitely had an infection. And he was going to let himself get sick and die, just to spite Jack. There had to be a way to get the stubborn son of a bitch to….”We’ve got a shower.”
“’Scuse me?” Sawyer blinked in surprise at this seemingly random change of subject.
“In the hatch. There’s a shower, hot water, soap. You reek, Sawyer.”
Sawyer jerked back, offended. “I just got back here, after gettin’ shot and spendin’ days with a bunch of headcases even worse than the ones I got stuck with here, and you’re criticizin’ my hygiene?”
“Medical supplies.” Jack got to his feet, signaling an end to the conversation. “There are medical supplies in the hatch. Antibiotics, alcohol, bandages. If you won’t let me help you, then do it yourself, but at least get everything cleaned up and bandaged, okay?”
Sawyer pulled a pair of jeans and a shirt out of his bag and rose, watching Jack suspiciously. “I can go by myself?”
“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “Kate is taking Michael there now. Follow them. I’ve got things to take care of here.”
“Good.” Sawyer nodded, all defiant satisfaction and hate-filled eyes. “You do your doctorin’ and I’ll do mine, and we can stay out of each other’s way from now on. Don’t wanna see you again, Doc, got that?” And with that he was gone, his proud, angry stride belying his exhaustion and pain, sending a clear message to Jack that he would never, ever let himself be seen as weak.
But he had, Jack thought as he followed Sawyer through the jungle, carefully staying just out of sight. He had shown his vulnerability to Jack time after time, night after night as they lay in the sultry darkness of Sawyer’s tent, bodies entwined. They had talked, in that necessary space between couplings, and Sawyer had been surprisingly open. He told Jack his real name, and asked him never to use it. They’d talked about the man Sawyer had killed, and the emotional and possible legal consequences of that mistake. They had talked about fathers. Then it was all hands and mouths and comfort and sometimes pain, but when pain merged with pleasure that intense it became something you craved, could never have enough of.
Then Sawyer said he was leaving, and there was no talking about that. He was going and that was the end of it. He didn’t even try to explain why. The night before the raft sailed they’d brought one another to orgasm time after time, and stayed up all night talking and touching and pouring themselves into one another, as if they could fill themselves with a lifetime of sharing in one single night. Jack had believed that he knew everything about Sawyer, everything, except why Sawyer had to leave. Until the next day, when Sawyer had sent Jack into an emotional spiral with the revelation of his final secret. It felt like a betrayal to Jack, after so many nights of honesty, after the betrayal of Sawyer’s abandonment. And Sawyer had abandoned him, that was clear now. In spirit as well as in body.
There was no lock on the bathroom door. Jack stayed out of sight as the rescue party left and Locke helped Sawyer get his bearings, filled him in on what they knew about the hatch, and showed him to the medical supplies. Then he followed him to the shower, opening the door just as Sawyer began to painfully peel his shirt away from his wound.
“God damn it, Jack, what part of ‘go fuck yourself’ don’t you understand? This is pathetic, you know, you followin’ me around –“
“SHUT UP!” Jack bellowed, crossing the space between them in one angry stride. “Shut up and hold still and let me do what I’m trained to do. You’ve made a complete mess of the job. You never even cleaned this, did you?”
“Well excuse the fuck outta me, doctor, I had other things on my mind. Sharks and burnin’ rafts and crazy-ass Rambo chicks—“
“Please shut up.” Jack took a deep breath and struggled to be calm. “Just hold still and let me do this. If you cooperate, it’ll be over sooner and I’ll leave you alone, okay?”
Then Jack was touching him, and after an initial stiffening of the muscles and a muffled grumble that sounded something like “control freak,” Sawyer allowed it. He held himself rigid and closed-off and distant, but he let Jack put his hands on him, and he gave up nothing in the way of emotion other than a sharp intake of breath when Jack probed his wound. “We’ll need to irrigate this,” Jack said, reaching to turn on a slow stream of water. “It’s probably good that you left it open, let it bleed, suturing would’ve trapped bacteria and caused the infection to flare sooner. Do you feel sick? Any chills, dizziness?”
Sawyer was warm to the touch but not burning, the wound swollen and oozing but not gravely inflamed. They’d caught it in time, then. A good cleaning, bandages, antibiotics….
“Jack.” Jack took a washcloth off of a shelf and wet it under the faucet, avoiding Sawyer’s eyes. “Jack, quit doctoring,” Sawyer barked. He stepped back, out of Jack’s reach. “Hold off for a minute and look at me, Doc.”
Jack didn’t want to, didn’t want to face the hatred he knew he’d see in Sawyer’s eyes. But what he saw when he finally looked up wasn’t hatred but something else, something that might have been pity.
“I didn’t want to come back,” Sawyer said, quietly.
“Yeah, I got that.” Jack ran an internal check on his emotions, looking for any trace of the anger he’d felt when Sawyer left. There was none. Now all he felt was the cold ache of loss. “Why did you, then?”
“It pulled me back. The damn island. Won’t let me leave.” Sawyer reached out and for an instant Jack thought Sawyer was reaching for him, but he only took the washcloth from Jack’s hand and began to clean his wound. “I could’ve stayed out there, at the other camp. I could live alone in the jungle and get by. The French chick’s been doin’ it for years. But I saw how those people from the tail section were livin’, primitive as hell, and our camp started lookin’ mighty good to me.” He probed the wound, harder than Jack would have if Sawyer had allowed him to help. “That’s not why I came back, though. Came back because I had to. Just like when I was out there on the water, caught in the current, gettin’ pulled back to the island. Somethin’ just kept pullin’ me back here.”
He moved toward the wall, bending forward so the warm water could sluice over his shoulder, and he let out a grunt of pain. It was all Jack could do not to go to him, run his hands over the golden expanse of his naked back, press his mouth against the pulse in his throat, let himself revel in the knowledge that Sawyer was here and alive. How in God’s name was he supposed to live with this man, see him every day, and not be with him?
Sawyer shoved his head under the water, bending at the waist to keep his jeans dry, and Jack silently handed him the shampoo. A minute later Sawyer straightened and shut off the flow, turning around to face Jack and flinging dripping strands of hair out of his eyes. “I’ll tell you why I left.” He looked Jack square in the eye, his blue gaze stark and unwavering. He took a deep breath and held it for an instant, and said, “I left because you’re in love with me.”
The silence stretched for an eternity, the only sound that of Jack’s throat working as he swallowed. He wanted to deny it. He tried to deny it. But what finally came out was, “And that’s what you do when people fall in love with you. You leave.”
“Yeah.”
“Because you don’t love them back.”
“Yeah.” Sawyer dropped his head, water streaming from his hair, running down his chest, dampening the waistband of his jeans. His breath hitched a little, and when he looked back up, everything had changed. “Yeah. Only this time, I came back.”
Jesus. Was he saying what Jack thought he was saying? That when he’d run from the Island, he’d really been running from Jack? And the anger he’d held between them like a shield when he returned, that had been just another form of running? If that was true, then what was this, now? He’d come back, and now all of the anger had evaporated, the shield was down and the look on his face was open and vulnerable and honest, and Jack knew in that instant that everything he felt for Sawyer, Sawyer felt for him as well. And Sawyer was terrified.
“It looks like we might be here, on the island, for a long time.” Jack had been slowly coming to accept that fact, and now that the raftees had failed, he was more certain of it than ever. “Nobody’s coming for us.”
“I know.” Jack knew that Sawyer had been forced to confront the reality of not being rescued after they’d lost the raft. “We’re gonna be together whether we want it or not.”
Want didn’t even begin to describe it. This was need, raw and primal. Jack moved until he was in Sawyer’s space, breathing his air. He raised his hand to Sawyer’s mouth and brushed his fingers across the tiny scar on his upper lip, a scar that Jack had put there himself. “I want it,” he said, leaning forward to follow the path his fingers had traced with his tongue. “Do you?”
Sawyer closed his eyes, a little moan escaping him as he shook his head, something in him still trying to say “no,” but his body swayed and molded itself against Jack’s and he groaned, “Fuck, yes.”
Fuck, yes, Jack echoed in his head, and brought his mouth down on Sawyer’s, hard. Sawyer parted his lips and Jack delved inside, his tongue sliding against Sawyer’s, thrusting, stroking. His hands streaked along the warm, bare skin of Sawyer’s back and down, over the worn denim of his jeans, to cup his ass and pull him more tightly against Jack’s body. The shoulder, he remembered, pulling back slightly, and Sawyer groaned in protest. “Can’t…,” Jack gasped, dragging his mouth away from Sawyer’s and skimming it across the rough stubble of his cheek. “Don’t want to…God.” Sawyer jerked his hips up, thrusting his cock against Jack’s already-raging hard-on and Jack couldn’t help it, he thrust back, hard. “Need to stay away from the wound…uh, not a sterile environment….”
“Jesus, doc, are we in an operatin’ room here? Sterile environment, for fuck’s sake. I know how to keep things clean. Strip for me. Now.” Sawyer reached for the shower knob and twisted it hard, and a torrent of warm water rained down, drenching them both. The thought flashed across Jack’s mind that they were going to have a hard time explaining to Locke why they were both wearing soaking-wet clothes, but then Sawyer was impatiently tugging at Jack’s shirt with his good hand and fumbling awkwardly with the snap of his jeans with the other, and all rational thought deserted him.
He knocked Sawyer’s hand away and made quick work of his shirt and his jeans, then Sawyer’s. “God those are filthy,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, watching the water darken as it pooled around Sawyer’s clothes. “We have a washing machine now.”
“Huh. Ain’t that special.” Sawyer kicked the clothes into the corner and pulled Jack up tight against him, hands sliding roughly over wet skin. “Now shut up and quit bein’ such a clean freak.” He bent his head and his mouth traveled along Jack’s jawline, up, to that sensitive spot just below Jack’s ear and he sucked, laved the skin with his tongue and bit, holding Jack with one hand behind his head and one wrapped around his thigh, pulling Jack in, rocking against him. The water sluiced over them both, making things slippery, washing the blood from Sawyer’s shoulder and the dirt from his skin and Jack wanted to finish the job with his tongue, to lick every inch of Sawyer’s body and bite him and suck him and claim him as his own. He groaned, “Fuck, oh fuck,” and ground his cock against Sawyer’s, reveling in the burn and the throb, almost undone by it and he captured Sawyer’s mouth again, assaulting him, devouring him. It had only been a few days but it felt like years since he’d had this, since he’d lost it and oh, thank Christ, found it again.
He broke the kiss, holding his upper torso back and angled slightly away from Sawyer, careful not to graze his shoulder. Panting, still thrusting his hips against Sawyer’s, he raised his hands to Sawyer’s face and cupped it, fingers bracketing his jaw and thumbs resting above those dimples that both infuriated Jack and drove him mad with desire. “Look at me,” he ordered, and wasn’t surprised at all when his voice cracked. “And you listen to me, Sawyer. You’re mine. You belong to me, and you’re not leaving me, ever again. You got that?”
Sawyer’s eyes locked with Jack’s for a moment and then he closed them, a gesture that was equal parts triumph and surrender. “You’re mine, Doc,” and it came out as a ragged groan. “You’re mine, and I don’t let go of anything that’s mine.”
Jack dropped his forehead to Sawyer’s, breath coming fast and hard against his face. “No leaving,” he insisted.
Sawyer shook his head and shifted, bring their bodies flush against one another, shoulders touching, mouths aligned. “No leaving.” The water ran down his face, over Jack’s hands, down his back as Sawyer’s hands streaked along his torso and around, between their bodies, to wrap around their straining cocks. He jerked them both hard one, two, three times, the water adding extra glide, extra heat, and Jack was too close already, so close after waiting so long. He pulled away, glancing briefly at the shoulder as he slid down Sawyer’s body, tonguing him everywhere, sucking moisture from his skin, teeth raking over his nipples and down, over taut muscle and smooth skin, to take Sawyer in his mouth. “Jesus, Jack,” Sawyer growled and bucked hard deep into Jack’s throat, pulsing against the roof of his mouth. Jack pulled his head back, letting Sawyer slide almost all the way out of his mouth, letting his tongue drag along the engorged vein on the underside of his cock. Sawyer gasped and surged forward again, bending at the waist, hips pistoning, and Jack reached up and cupped Sawyer’s balls and felt them tighten instantly, on the brink of release. Jack’s fingers slid away and encircled the base of Sawyer’s cock, gripping him tightly, stopping him from coming. “Jack,” Sawyer groaned, and there was a new, imploring note in his voice that Jack hadn’t heard before. “God Jack, let me…I have to….”
“Wait.” Carefully, not letting go of Sawyer, Jack got to his feet. “Where’s the soap?”
Sawyer stared at him, panting and dazed and incredulous. “There you go with the clean again. Focus, Doc!”
Jack leaned into Sawyer, one hand gripping his good shoulder, pushing him backward against the wall. With his other hand he groped on the shelf beside him until he found a bar of soap, and lathered his hands with it. Sawyer was staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes, comprehension beginning to dawn as Jack reached for his own cock and started stroking. The extra glide of his soap-slick hand was almost enough to send him over the edge. “Turn around,” he growled and with an answering growl of pure need, Sawyer did. Jack soaped his fingers again and wrapped one arm around Sawyer’s waist, bending him forward, sliding two fingers along the cleft of his ass and then deep inside. Sawyer bucked against him and shuddered when he hit the right spot, again and again. With just a few strokes Sawyer was slick and hot and ready and Jack coated his cock with soap again and slid it home.
Sawyer cried out and Jack paused, giving him time to adjust. Sawyer thrust back against him and said, “Quit worryin’ about everything, Jack, it’s okay, I want it, need it, now fuck me goddammit!” Unleashed, Jack began to move, the tight heat and Sawyer’s frantic groans making him wild with desire. He could feel Sawyer’s pulse throbbing against his cock and again he thought, alive. Alive and here.
Jack was leaning heavily against Sawyer’s back, water streaking down their bodies, and he could feel the burn of desire down to the soles of his feet as the water eddied around them. His thrusts were getting harder and more erratic and he tightened his arm around Sawyer’s waist as he felt his knees start to buckle. Sawyer braced himself against the wall with his good arm and he took his cock in his left hand and began to stroke himself roughly. That probably hurts, Jack thought, remembering how stiffly Sawyer had held his left arm, and he pushed Sawyer’s hand away and replaced it with his own. A few hard strokes and Jack slid his thumb over the slick head and felt him swell and jerk against his palm, and Sawyer reared back, tightening around Jack and Jack felt the spasms wrack him as he came, hard and loud, carrying Jack with him into the blinding white light.
They both collapsed against the wall as the aftershocks rocked them, Jack’s hand still pulsing around Sawyer’s softening cock, his face buried in Sawyer’s dripping hair, lips against the hot damp skin of Sawyer’s neck. He suddenly noticed that the hand that was wrapped around Sawyer’s waist was still gripping the soap. Lazily, he began to rub it across Sawyer’s chest. He released Sawyer’s cock and trailed his other hand up, slowly stroking the soap-slick skin, the tight muscles relaxing under his fingers and the soft steam rising around them and the sound of Sawyer’s moans of satisfaction and pleasure filling the air. Still buried inside him, Jack explored every hard angle and smooth curve of the other man’s body, memorizing him, even though he knew that now there was no need. Sawyer was alive and he was here, and Jack would never let him go again.
End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 04:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 05:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 06:42 pm (UTC)::Applauds madly::
::happy sigh::
Yeah that should happen. That should sooooooo happen.
I love Sawyer in this, all shut off and not wanting to love. I love Jack in this, all refusing to let him. Beautiful and very in character and yeah I'm going to just sigh again.
::sigh::
no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 10:00 pm (UTC)It should SO happen. And if the darn Lost writers won't cooperate, we slashers will MAKE it happen in fanon. Damn straight.
Thanks for reading! :D
no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 10:06 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading! :D
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 09:26 pm (UTC)My favorite kind of fic-- Jack all in his "doctor-concerned mode" and steamy sex. **Love** the double entrendre in the title!
The mutual gruff "I don't need you" turning into heat and reunion and life that neither of them can deny...
Sawyer's dilogue kicks ass... ;) *applauds* My comments here can't do it justice.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 10:13 pm (UTC)I want to write a fic from Sawyer's point of view so I can go into loving detail about Jack's sexiness, especially for you. Every time I sit down to write, though, my muse jumps into Jack's head. I'll keep trying, though!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 11:02 pm (UTC)Uhhhh...looking for some sort of coherency so that I can post properly,but that may have to wait for the time being...Could that be any hotter? No? Didn't think so!
“And that’s what you do when people fall in love with you.You leave.”
*whimpers*
ohhhh,that is painful...Sawyer is such a mess...
Sawyer was alive and he was here, and Jack would never let him go again.
I'm kinda speechless right now...Just big damn Wow!I absolutely love the way you write these two.
♥ !!!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 11:42 pm (UTC)Do you see now where you helped me? We were talking about something completely different, and you said, "He is afraid to show he cares,because he will not allow himself such weakness.Caring for someone makes you vulnerable and he will not have that." And my muse said, "Yes! That's how we'll show Sawyer in the new fic!" And I said, "I ♥ you, Elle!"
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 12:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 01:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 02:53 pm (UTC)complete stranger here
Date: 2005-10-14 03:49 am (UTC)I absolutely loved the "Focus Doc" line. I could see Sawyer pointing at his, ehm, focus? while he said the words. The mental picture I got is priceless, so thank you for that. A good, hot, angsty story is all I ever wanted from any fandom, so thank you once again.
Sawyer keeping Jack away (especially when he said that they'd been fucking - what a way to describe things and keep it cold and emotionless), both to protect himself as much as he's protecting Jack, that was beautiful and in character, just as Jack's insistence, even though he had no idea what he'd get in return for all his trouble.
in case you're wondering, I found this fic through
Re: complete stranger here
Date: 2005-10-14 02:48 pm (UTC)"in case you're wondering, I found this fic through
Then you have excellent taste, because she's the greatest.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 02:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 05:36 am (UTC)Good job, yea you!
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Date: 2005-10-15 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 06:11 pm (UTC)I'm glad you think I captured Sawyer. Poor guy, getting abused all the time. I'm glad that in fanfic, at least, he's got Jack to kiss him and make it all better. :D
Thanks so much!
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Date: 2005-10-15 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 06:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-15 07:12 pm (UTC)Loved it!!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-16 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-17 07:01 pm (UTC)OMG I loved this! The characterisation is spot on and the rest? GUH!
I think you may have reawakened my love for Jack/Sawyer which has been missing lately but shhhh don't tell anyone!
Sorry it took me so long to read it.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-17 08:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-17 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-17 10:19 pm (UTC)Hmmm...have I ever seen Jack/Charlie? I don't think I have! Sawyer/Charlie, yes, but not Jack...interesting. Somebody really outta do something about that, LOL. ;)
Thanks for reading!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 01:55 am (UTC)I can't begin to tell you how much the fangirl in me quivered at this line. oh damn it. you write these boys so well. and Sawyer, damn, this is the Sawyer that makes me hold out hope that all the other bad boys are just like him on the inside. *wibbles*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 08:35 pm (UTC)Sawyer is the best "bad boy" on the planet. Snark + angst + dimples = too perfect to resist.
Thanks for reading! *hugs*
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Date: 2005-10-19 04:24 am (UTC)Goodness, woman. You kill me with teh hawt. :D
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 08:37 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading! :D
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 10:01 pm (UTC)You have reduced me to a pile of wibbling fangirl omfg!1! netspeak.
This is so, so, so wonderfully in character. Seriously, that's easy to say, but I can see this so easily, you've got both of their characters so absolutely dead on. Your Sawyer dialogue is perfect, which is something I find a lot of authors are kind of shaky on. "Well excuse the fuck outta me Doctor" - hee! Please write more. Lots more. And possibly steal J.J. Abrams' body and write some scenes for the show? *wishful thinking*
no subject
Date: 2005-10-24 01:15 am (UTC)If someone could tell me how to be JJ, even if just for a minute, I'd be the happiest fangirl on the planet! :) And...um...I did this really stupid thing. I signed up at
Thanks for reading! :D
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 05:41 am (UTC)Loved it the first time. Loved it again just now. Very, very hot. Plenty ansty too.
You know, I kind of miss the days of hatchfic!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-22 05:39 am (UTC)Nice story good characterization.
Thanks for sharing this...hugs
no subject
Date: 2009-02-22 07:11 pm (UTC)