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alliecat8Title: Victory
Sequel to the ficlet trio Time Out, and Cold, and Game Plan, but it can be read alone
Characters: Jack/Sawyer with a bit of Kate and Sun
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100's prompt #94, Independence, and for everything else, too (see below)
Word Count: 3503
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through the present
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
A/N From Hell: Written for a million different things!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
uberaeryn's Jack-nursing-Sawyer porn-a-thon! ;D And dedicated to deej240z for writing the Kate/Sawyer banter about what went on while Sawyer was away. THANKS for the much-needed nudge and for the great addition! (hope you don't hate what I did with it!) *smooches*. Also dedicated to foxygirl33 for saying, "It doesn't have to be neat, it doesn't have to be pretty, but it does have to have words." Now I tell myself that every time I sit down to write, and it keeps the momentum going. *hugs* Also dedicated to all of my fellow Sagittarians...this is birthday fic for you, in case my muse runs away from home again and I don't get the individual fics I've promised done in time...but I WILL do them, I promise!
Consciousness finds him, whether he wants it to or not. He’s cold, so cold but for the fire in his shoulder, and the doctor’s hand is warm against his face as he shakes him and says, “Sawyer, wake up.”
He knows that voice. It’s Jack’s voice, and when he manages to open his eyes it’s Jack’s face he sees. “You?” That can’t be right. Not here, in the world of hospitals and IV needles and clean sheets. He sinks deeper into the pillow and closes his eyes. “Not awake yet.”
Jack swallows audibly. “Looks like you are.” He moves his hand away and Sawyer feels the loss. The loss of warmth and connection and comfort. “Stay with me, don’t pass out again. It’s normal to be disoriented after losing consciousness. Look at me.”
As he’s done so many times in the last few days, Jack nudges Sawyer’s good shoulder and the pain flares across his body and Sawyer groans, “Fuck, that hurts.” With an effort he forces his eyes open again and looks down. Two arms, two legs, no burns that he can see. He can move, but his whole body throbs, and he’s shaking with chills. “Plane crash.”
“Yeah. I’m giving you some morphine….”
“No.” He’s starting to feel a little bit clearer now, irritable. “Damn dreams….”
Jack turns away and fumbles for something on the shelf beside his bed. His bed…. He looks around slowly. He’s in a room with walls and a ceiling and the antiseptic smell of civilization, and the lights are on and he can hear recorded music playing somewhere nearby. “Where am I?”
“It’s a long story.” Jack pauses, frowning. “You remember what’s happened since the crash, don’t you?”
“Been…asleep.” His gaze travels to the bunk above him, a puzzled frown on his face. “This ain’t a hospital?”
“No.” Jack looks worried now. “We’re still on the island, Sawyer. You got shot on the raft and collapsed in the jungle. Do you remember any of that?”
Sawyer stares at him for a long minute. “That was real?” He’s afraid to believe it. He’d been sure it was a dream. “You’re real?”
“Yeah.” Jack seems to be struggling for the right words, seems hesitant when he says, “It’s real. I’m real. You didn’t think….”
Sawyer sighs, his eyes drifting closed again. He’s fading back into the void he’s been floating in for days. But now, he doesn’t feel so alone.
********
He thinks that someone’s been with him the whole time, that he hasn’t been alone since they brought him here. Wherever here is. The next time he opens his eyes, Jack’s still there, sprawled in an easy chair, sound asleep. He looks terrible; pale, gaunt, deep shadows under his eyes. Sawyer wonders how long they’ve been like this, him drifting, Jack keeping watch and doing what Jack does best, worrying.
He feels stronger now, more clear-headed, and he’s got a problem. He needs to get up. He pulls back the sheet and sees that he’s wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and white bandages. No wonder he’s freezing. It takes every ounce of his strength to swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit up, and when he does the pain in his shoulder is so intense he has to fight back a wave of nausea. He really needs to get out of here. No way he’s gonna puke or piss himself in front of the Doc. He struggles to his feet and stars explode in front of his eyes and he’s falling forward, and Jack’s up in a heartbeat, catching him before he goes down.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He tries to push Jack away, doesn’t like being held up like a baby just learning to walk, hates it, in fact. But Jack holds on like the stubborn mule he is. “I’ve got business to take care of,” Sawyer mumbles. “Gotta go water a tree.”
“Oh.” Jack lets out a noise that almost sounds like a snort. “You ever hear of a bedpan?”
“Fuck off.” No way he’s gonna do that in front of Jack, either. “Let go of me. I can walk.”
Jack sighs and tightens his grip. “All right. Come on. If you can stay conscious ‘til we get there, you’re in for a real treat.”
The place has a bathroom. A real, honest-to-God flush-toilet bathroom. When he feels more like talking he’ll have to remember to ask Jack what rabbit-hole they’ve fallen into this time. He figures that, after everything else that’s happened, nothing will surprise him anymore.
He’s a bit steadier now and Jack reluctantly allows him some privacy. “Be sure to keep the IV bag elevated,” he tells him. Always a mother hen. It’s not easy to piss when your head’s swimming and one hand is useless and you have an IV bag clamped between your teeth, but Sawyer manages it and feels immensely proud of himself. And then resigned to the inevitable when Jack barges in and half-carries, half-drags him back to bed. He’s won one small victory in what’s obviously going to be a long, hard battle for independence.
********
The next time he wakes up it’s Sun who’s there, rubbing something cool and soothing into the torn flesh of his shoulder. “Welcome back,” she says, smiling.
“Hey.” Sun’s smiling, so they all must have…”Jin?”
She looks up from her ministrations and nods. “Jin is home, and he’s fine. He has been very worried about you.”
Sawyer closes his eyes, struggling to remember. It’s all so hazy, he isn’t sure what’s real and what’s imaginary anymore.
Something cold touches his lips. “Here. Sip this, Sawyer. You need nourishment.” He suddenly realizes that he’s both hungry and thirsty, and he lets her feed him every drop. It’s something slushy and sweet, fruit and coconut milk, and Sun has probably slipped one of her herbal potions in there, too. So they have ice and a blender here in Wonderland. How ‘bout that.
Sun turns her attention back to his shoulder, replacing the bandages with gentle hands. “This is looking much better. It was very bad, at first. It is fortunate that you all returned when you did.”
“Last thing I remember, we were in the jungle. How’d I get here?”
“They carried you, on a stretcher. Michael and Jin brought you to camp, and then Jack brought you here, to the hatch. That was three days ago.”
God. They’d carried him back to camp? That idea disturbs him more than he cares to think about.
He’d left Jin and Michael behind. Every man for himself, he’d said. Independence.
He turns his face to the wall, feigning sleep. Closing Sun out. He needs to be alone, if only inside his head.
********
They’re working in shifts, he decides, because the next touch he feels is Kate’s. She’s got a washcloth and a basin of water. Cold water, and he’s already freezing. He remembers bits and pieces of the last few days, and one thing he remembers is warm water. Kate is trying to torture him. Again.
“Get your hands off me, woman,” he growls, though his voice is still so weak it doesn’t come out nearly as menacingly as he intends it to.
“Nice to see you, too,” Kate says with a short laugh. “Welcome back, hero.”
If she wants to piss him off, she’s picked the right way to do it. “If I’m a hero, you’re Florence Nightingale. Don’t want you nursin’ my ass. Tell Sun to come back.”
“Sun’s sick of you.” She swipes the cloth across his chest, more roughly than necessary. “So’s Jack. I’m all you’ve got. Deal with it.”
He tries to sit up, intending to push her away.
“Hold still,” she says irritably. “Let’s just get this over with.”
And that’s another thing. It pisses him off that she doesn’t seem to be enjoying this any more than he is. Here he is, nearly naked and virtually helpless, and she’s bathing him like she’s scrubbing the damn floor, or something. Have things changed that much while he was gone?
“So you’ve all set up housekeepin’ since I sailed away. Ain’t that nice.”
“It’s not a house, it’s a hatch. We found it after you left and we take turns using it. You’re the only full-time resident, the rest of us still have to rough it most of the time.”
All business, she washes his stomach and heads lower, and he has a flash of memory, of other humiliating things she’s done to him lately. In desperation, he tries to distract her.
“So, what else did you do while I was gone?”
She glances up at him and shrugs. “Oh, you know, same ol' same ol'. Played some golf. Made out with Jack.”
A verbal gut-punch like that can only be deflected one way, with sheer bravado. “Must be nice,” he snorts. “The only thing I did was pull a bullet out of my shoulder with my bare hands.”
She blinks at him and he smirks, satisfied that he’s finally found a way to render her speechless. But then she shrugs and says, “I always knew you had balls of steel.” And then she plunges the washcloth beneath his shorts.
“Shit, Freckles!” he yells, his weakness momentarily forgotten at the sudden shock. “That’s fuckin’ cold!”
He thinks he sees her smile, just a little, then she pulls her hand away, her expression contrite. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, as if she’s considering something. Her other hand ghosts lightly across his crotch. “I can make it up to you if you want.”
This time he’s the one who’s speechless. But only for an instant. “Go for it, sweetcheeks,” he tells her, figuring that it’s a hell of a lot better than what she’s been doing to him.
This time there’s no cold washcloth, only warm skin as she slides her hand back beneath his shorts and over his cock. She knows what she’s doing, he has to give her that. She cups his balls and rubs her fingers over the sensitive spot behind them, then slides back up to stroke him slowly and firmly. She’s good. Very good. The only problem is, it’s not working. Not. Working. At. All.
He’s stunned. This has never happened before. Never. And Kate is very patient, she gives it a valiant try, but finally she stops and looks at him, and he reads both amusement and pity in her expression. “I’m sorry,” she says gently, and he wants to slap her. “I guess you’re still too weak. It’s normal. It happens to guys all the time.”
“Go to hell,” he wants to say. And, “I’ll bet nothing like that ever happened with Jack.” Instead he just closes his eyes and says, “Guess so.” Then he pretends to go back to sleep. Tomorrow he’s getting out of this damned hatch if it’s the last thing he does. And he’ll take care of himself from now on.
********
He knows it’s nighttime because the hatch is silent and still, and he can hear Jack snoring in the top bunk. He hopes it’s Jack, anyway, he’d hate to think Kate or Sun snored like that. It wasn’t the snoring that woke him up, though, it was the itching in his damn shoulder. He shifts restlessly in the bed, wanting to claw the bandages off of himself to get some relief. So of course Jack wakes up, because Jack has a sixth sense about things like that and he’s determined not to let Sawyer do anything for himself.
“Hey.” Jack swings down from his bunk and turns on a lamp. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not okay, jackass.” Sawyer glares at him. “It feels like there’s bugs crawling all over me and I’m fuckin’ freezing and you’re snorin’ like a Mack truck and I’m sick of bein’ a goddamn prisoner in this fucked-up hatch. Anything else you wanna know?”
Jack grins. “Good. You’re back to being an asshole. That means you’re getting better.”
“Glad you approve. Now can I fuckin’ leave?”
Jack shakes his head, still grinning, and reaches toward the table where he keeps his supplies. “What do you mean, bugs?”
Sawyer sighs. Here’s Jack in the middle of the night, in his boxers and bare feet, charging to the rescue as always. Sawyer’s about to get doctored again, whether he likes it or not.
“Shoulder itches like a son of a bitch.”
Jack grabs a tube of something and sits down on the side of Sawyer’s bed. “That’s normal. Means it’s healing. The morphine might have something to do with it, too. It causes itching, sometimes.”
“You’re still givin’ me that shit?” No wonder he’s been sleeping so much. It might explain other things, too.
“Just a little. Just enough to take the edge off. We can skip your next dose and see how it goes, if you want. You’re due for it right about now.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jack reaches across his body and takes hold of Sawyer’s left arm and Sawyer sighs. He knows the drill by now.
Jack begins to rub vigorously. “Is the feeling coming back at all?”
“A little.” He can feel his arm, but his fingers are still numb.
“Okay, we’ll keep doing this, then. Keeps the circulation going, and that’ll stimulate the nerves. What else did you say was bothering you?”
“I’m cold, Doc. Can’t get warm, no matter what I do.”
“You’ve still got a little bit of a fever. And you were in shock….” Jack begins to rub Sawyer’s right arm with his other hand. “Again, if we can improve the circulation, it’ll help.”
It does help, and Sawyer allows it. But the sudden silence is uncomfortable, and Sawyer clears his throat and says, conversationally, “So you and Freckles finally hooked up. 'Bout damn time.”
Jack looks at him, startled. “Did she tell you that?”
“Sure did.” He tries to smirk. Tries not to sound bitter. He doesn’t think he pulls it off, though.
Jack shakes his head. “She was just trying to get a rise out of you. She’s been baiting you, trying to fire you up, make you want to fight this. Seeing how badly you want to get out of here, I think it worked.”
“Tryin’ to get a…what?” Sawyer almost chokes. “A rise out of me? Huh. Hell, that ain’t the only way she tried to do that, either.”
Jack raises an eyebrow, and Sawyer hesitates, suddenly at a loss for words. “Uh, Doc? That morphine. Could that, uh, numb you…everywhere? Even places that, ah, usually don’t need much stimulation to get the circulation goin’?”
Jack’s eyes widen and now it’s his turn to choke. “Are you telling me that she tried to…and you couldn’t…?”
Sawyer instantly regrets bringing it up, so he barks, “No. Never mind. Shut the fuck up and keep doin’ that, I’m cold everywhere, not just my arm.”
Jack avoids his eyes and moves his hands to Sawyer’s chest. “Yeah, morphine could have that effect. And you’re still weak. No need to panic yet.” He moves down to Sawyer’s stomach and then, avoiding the area that’s responsible for this sudden awkwardness, he moves down Sawyer’s thighs and calves and starts to rub his feet.
Every inch of his body is already sensitized by Jack’s touch, but Sawyer’s feet have always been an erogenous zone. Jack’s fingers burn as they slide along the soles, and now his circulation is going strong. It’s going strong everywhere. And all he’s wearing are his boxers and there’s no way he can hide what’s happening from Jack. So instead he just groans and closes his eyes and lets it happen.
Jack’s hands still and he makes a strangled little noise and he says, “See, I told you not to panic. Should I get Kate?”
Sawyer doesn’t answer right away. He’s turning it over in his mind, this question that’s been there for weeks. The attraction is there, between himself and Jack. It’s there, and it’s mutual, and now that he’s back he knows that there’s no getting away from it, no denying it. So he opens his eyes and gives Jack a long, steady look and tells him, “This ain’t about Kate, Doc. It’s about you.”
“Jesus, Sawyer.” Jack is clearly surprised by this blunt admission. His hands tighten around Sawyer’s feet, and he drops his head for a moment, and when he looks back up his eyes have darkened and he looks…hungry. “Are you sure?”
He’s as sure of this as he’s ever been of anything in his life. “Yeah, Doc, I’m sure. I want you.”
And then Jack is spreading Sawyer’s legs and crawling up his body to kneel between them, and Jack’s big warm hand closes around him, stroking him through his shorts. More, he needs more, and he begins to grind his hips, pushing up against Jack’s palm.
“Hold still,” Jack tells him. “Let me do all the work.” Carefully, he peels Sawyer’s shorts down and lets them drop to the floor, then he’s back to wrap his hand around Sawyer’s swollen cock and Sawyer isn’t cold anymore, he’s on fire. Jack’s hand slides over his skin, his thumb stroking the underside, down and then up, pressing against that spot just under the head and then up further, sliding along the tip, spreading the fluid that’s already starting to gather there. Sawyer tries to read Jack’s expression, looking for any sign of reluctance, of distaste, but all he sees there is arousal and intense concentration. Jack’s face is flushed and, like Sawyer, he’s starting to pant, and when Sawyer moans, Jack moans, too.
“Hold on a second, Doc,” Sawyer orders, his gaze dropping to the bulge in Jack’s shorts. “Stop.”
Jack’s hand stills and he looks at Sawyer, confused. “What…?”
Sawyer swallows, hard. “Take care of yourself, first.” When Jack hesitates, Sawyer adds, “I want to watch.”
Jack stares at him for a moment, then he nods slowly. He pushes his boxers down and, resting on his knees between Sawyer’s thighs, he begins to stroke himself. He’s too tall to sit upright in the lower bunk, so he has to lean forward, bracing himself with one hand against the bed, working himself with the other hand, his knuckles brushing against Sawyer’s straining cock. Sawyer wants to reach between them, to take Jack in his own hand, but one hand is numb and the other one is hindered by the IV, so it’s all up to Jack.
Jack’s eyes never leave Sawyer’s face, but Sawyer is looking down, watching what Jack does with his hand. He wants to know what Jack likes, what kind of rhythm he sets, what kind of stroke makes him gasp and curse. Jack is hard as steel now, pumping himself so vigorously that Sawyer can tell he’s almost there. “Fuck, Sawyer,” he groans, and then his back arches and, at the last possible second, he wraps his hand around Sawyer as well, pressing them together, letting Sawyer feel every violent jerk, every hot spurt. And he doesn’t even stop to catch his breath, he’s still shuddering with aftershocks when he swipes his hand through the come on Sawyer’s stomach and wraps his slick, hot fingers around Sawyer’s aching cock.
It’s too much; the sight and feel of Jack’s orgasm and the slick slide of Jack’s palm over the sensitive head make Sawyer thrust up, fucking Jack’s hand for all he’s worth, forgetting Jack’s orders to be still. His whole world has narrowed down to Jack’s hand, and the intensity of the sensations he is creating. He needs release so badly he thinks he might die of it. Jack’s other hand closes around his balls, and that takes him over the edge. He gasps and arches up high and Jack growls, “Come for me” and tightens his grip, and Sawyer does, he comes hard, riding wave after wave after wave of pleasure until the last wave pulls him under, and his vision blurs and he slips away, only to be pulled right back by Jack’s mouth on his and Jack’s hand in his hair and Jack’s heartbeat thudding against his chest. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans and Jack shudders against him for an instant before pulling back and giving him a long, dazed stare.
“You okay?” he asks finally.
“Shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Endorphins. Getting off releases endorphins. Great painkillers.”
Sawyer is still trying to catch his breath, but that makes him laugh. “They teach you that in med school, Doc?”
Jack laughs, too. “No, I figured that one out on my own.” He reaches for a cloth and begins to wipe their combined semen off of Sawyer’s chest and stomach. Sawyer sighs and closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of Jack’s hands on him, enjoying being taken care of.
In a few days, he’ll be strong enough to take care of himself. He’ll be strong enough to leave. He’ll have won back his independence.
Somehow, that doesn’t feel like a victory anymore.
End
Sequel to the ficlet trio Time Out, and Cold, and Game Plan, but it can be read alone
Characters: Jack/Sawyer with a bit of Kate and Sun
Written for
fanfic100's prompt #94, Independence, and for everything else, too (see below)Word Count: 3503
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through the present
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
A/N From Hell: Written for a million different things!
uberaeryn's Jack-nursing-Sawyer porn-a-thon! ;D And dedicated to deej240z for writing the Kate/Sawyer banter about what went on while Sawyer was away. THANKS for the much-needed nudge and for the great addition! (hope you don't hate what I did with it!) *smooches*. Also dedicated to foxygirl33 for saying, "It doesn't have to be neat, it doesn't have to be pretty, but it does have to have words." Now I tell myself that every time I sit down to write, and it keeps the momentum going. *hugs* Also dedicated to all of my fellow Sagittarians...this is birthday fic for you, in case my muse runs away from home again and I don't get the individual fics I've promised done in time...but I WILL do them, I promise!Consciousness finds him, whether he wants it to or not. He’s cold, so cold but for the fire in his shoulder, and the doctor’s hand is warm against his face as he shakes him and says, “Sawyer, wake up.”
He knows that voice. It’s Jack’s voice, and when he manages to open his eyes it’s Jack’s face he sees. “You?” That can’t be right. Not here, in the world of hospitals and IV needles and clean sheets. He sinks deeper into the pillow and closes his eyes. “Not awake yet.”
Jack swallows audibly. “Looks like you are.” He moves his hand away and Sawyer feels the loss. The loss of warmth and connection and comfort. “Stay with me, don’t pass out again. It’s normal to be disoriented after losing consciousness. Look at me.”
As he’s done so many times in the last few days, Jack nudges Sawyer’s good shoulder and the pain flares across his body and Sawyer groans, “Fuck, that hurts.” With an effort he forces his eyes open again and looks down. Two arms, two legs, no burns that he can see. He can move, but his whole body throbs, and he’s shaking with chills. “Plane crash.”
“Yeah. I’m giving you some morphine….”
“No.” He’s starting to feel a little bit clearer now, irritable. “Damn dreams….”
Jack turns away and fumbles for something on the shelf beside his bed. His bed…. He looks around slowly. He’s in a room with walls and a ceiling and the antiseptic smell of civilization, and the lights are on and he can hear recorded music playing somewhere nearby. “Where am I?”
“It’s a long story.” Jack pauses, frowning. “You remember what’s happened since the crash, don’t you?”
“Been…asleep.” His gaze travels to the bunk above him, a puzzled frown on his face. “This ain’t a hospital?”
“No.” Jack looks worried now. “We’re still on the island, Sawyer. You got shot on the raft and collapsed in the jungle. Do you remember any of that?”
Sawyer stares at him for a long minute. “That was real?” He’s afraid to believe it. He’d been sure it was a dream. “You’re real?”
“Yeah.” Jack seems to be struggling for the right words, seems hesitant when he says, “It’s real. I’m real. You didn’t think….”
Sawyer sighs, his eyes drifting closed again. He’s fading back into the void he’s been floating in for days. But now, he doesn’t feel so alone.
********
He thinks that someone’s been with him the whole time, that he hasn’t been alone since they brought him here. Wherever here is. The next time he opens his eyes, Jack’s still there, sprawled in an easy chair, sound asleep. He looks terrible; pale, gaunt, deep shadows under his eyes. Sawyer wonders how long they’ve been like this, him drifting, Jack keeping watch and doing what Jack does best, worrying.
He feels stronger now, more clear-headed, and he’s got a problem. He needs to get up. He pulls back the sheet and sees that he’s wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and white bandages. No wonder he’s freezing. It takes every ounce of his strength to swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit up, and when he does the pain in his shoulder is so intense he has to fight back a wave of nausea. He really needs to get out of here. No way he’s gonna puke or piss himself in front of the Doc. He struggles to his feet and stars explode in front of his eyes and he’s falling forward, and Jack’s up in a heartbeat, catching him before he goes down.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He tries to push Jack away, doesn’t like being held up like a baby just learning to walk, hates it, in fact. But Jack holds on like the stubborn mule he is. “I’ve got business to take care of,” Sawyer mumbles. “Gotta go water a tree.”
“Oh.” Jack lets out a noise that almost sounds like a snort. “You ever hear of a bedpan?”
“Fuck off.” No way he’s gonna do that in front of Jack, either. “Let go of me. I can walk.”
Jack sighs and tightens his grip. “All right. Come on. If you can stay conscious ‘til we get there, you’re in for a real treat.”
The place has a bathroom. A real, honest-to-God flush-toilet bathroom. When he feels more like talking he’ll have to remember to ask Jack what rabbit-hole they’ve fallen into this time. He figures that, after everything else that’s happened, nothing will surprise him anymore.
He’s a bit steadier now and Jack reluctantly allows him some privacy. “Be sure to keep the IV bag elevated,” he tells him. Always a mother hen. It’s not easy to piss when your head’s swimming and one hand is useless and you have an IV bag clamped between your teeth, but Sawyer manages it and feels immensely proud of himself. And then resigned to the inevitable when Jack barges in and half-carries, half-drags him back to bed. He’s won one small victory in what’s obviously going to be a long, hard battle for independence.
********
The next time he wakes up it’s Sun who’s there, rubbing something cool and soothing into the torn flesh of his shoulder. “Welcome back,” she says, smiling.
“Hey.” Sun’s smiling, so they all must have…”Jin?”
She looks up from her ministrations and nods. “Jin is home, and he’s fine. He has been very worried about you.”
Sawyer closes his eyes, struggling to remember. It’s all so hazy, he isn’t sure what’s real and what’s imaginary anymore.
Something cold touches his lips. “Here. Sip this, Sawyer. You need nourishment.” He suddenly realizes that he’s both hungry and thirsty, and he lets her feed him every drop. It’s something slushy and sweet, fruit and coconut milk, and Sun has probably slipped one of her herbal potions in there, too. So they have ice and a blender here in Wonderland. How ‘bout that.
Sun turns her attention back to his shoulder, replacing the bandages with gentle hands. “This is looking much better. It was very bad, at first. It is fortunate that you all returned when you did.”
“Last thing I remember, we were in the jungle. How’d I get here?”
“They carried you, on a stretcher. Michael and Jin brought you to camp, and then Jack brought you here, to the hatch. That was three days ago.”
God. They’d carried him back to camp? That idea disturbs him more than he cares to think about.
He’d left Jin and Michael behind. Every man for himself, he’d said. Independence.
He turns his face to the wall, feigning sleep. Closing Sun out. He needs to be alone, if only inside his head.
********
They’re working in shifts, he decides, because the next touch he feels is Kate’s. She’s got a washcloth and a basin of water. Cold water, and he’s already freezing. He remembers bits and pieces of the last few days, and one thing he remembers is warm water. Kate is trying to torture him. Again.
“Get your hands off me, woman,” he growls, though his voice is still so weak it doesn’t come out nearly as menacingly as he intends it to.
“Nice to see you, too,” Kate says with a short laugh. “Welcome back, hero.”
If she wants to piss him off, she’s picked the right way to do it. “If I’m a hero, you’re Florence Nightingale. Don’t want you nursin’ my ass. Tell Sun to come back.”
“Sun’s sick of you.” She swipes the cloth across his chest, more roughly than necessary. “So’s Jack. I’m all you’ve got. Deal with it.”
He tries to sit up, intending to push her away.
“Hold still,” she says irritably. “Let’s just get this over with.”
And that’s another thing. It pisses him off that she doesn’t seem to be enjoying this any more than he is. Here he is, nearly naked and virtually helpless, and she’s bathing him like she’s scrubbing the damn floor, or something. Have things changed that much while he was gone?
“So you’ve all set up housekeepin’ since I sailed away. Ain’t that nice.”
“It’s not a house, it’s a hatch. We found it after you left and we take turns using it. You’re the only full-time resident, the rest of us still have to rough it most of the time.”
All business, she washes his stomach and heads lower, and he has a flash of memory, of other humiliating things she’s done to him lately. In desperation, he tries to distract her.
“So, what else did you do while I was gone?”
She glances up at him and shrugs. “Oh, you know, same ol' same ol'. Played some golf. Made out with Jack.”
A verbal gut-punch like that can only be deflected one way, with sheer bravado. “Must be nice,” he snorts. “The only thing I did was pull a bullet out of my shoulder with my bare hands.”
She blinks at him and he smirks, satisfied that he’s finally found a way to render her speechless. But then she shrugs and says, “I always knew you had balls of steel.” And then she plunges the washcloth beneath his shorts.
“Shit, Freckles!” he yells, his weakness momentarily forgotten at the sudden shock. “That’s fuckin’ cold!”
He thinks he sees her smile, just a little, then she pulls her hand away, her expression contrite. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, as if she’s considering something. Her other hand ghosts lightly across his crotch. “I can make it up to you if you want.”
This time he’s the one who’s speechless. But only for an instant. “Go for it, sweetcheeks,” he tells her, figuring that it’s a hell of a lot better than what she’s been doing to him.
This time there’s no cold washcloth, only warm skin as she slides her hand back beneath his shorts and over his cock. She knows what she’s doing, he has to give her that. She cups his balls and rubs her fingers over the sensitive spot behind them, then slides back up to stroke him slowly and firmly. She’s good. Very good. The only problem is, it’s not working. Not. Working. At. All.
He’s stunned. This has never happened before. Never. And Kate is very patient, she gives it a valiant try, but finally she stops and looks at him, and he reads both amusement and pity in her expression. “I’m sorry,” she says gently, and he wants to slap her. “I guess you’re still too weak. It’s normal. It happens to guys all the time.”
“Go to hell,” he wants to say. And, “I’ll bet nothing like that ever happened with Jack.” Instead he just closes his eyes and says, “Guess so.” Then he pretends to go back to sleep. Tomorrow he’s getting out of this damned hatch if it’s the last thing he does. And he’ll take care of himself from now on.
********
He knows it’s nighttime because the hatch is silent and still, and he can hear Jack snoring in the top bunk. He hopes it’s Jack, anyway, he’d hate to think Kate or Sun snored like that. It wasn’t the snoring that woke him up, though, it was the itching in his damn shoulder. He shifts restlessly in the bed, wanting to claw the bandages off of himself to get some relief. So of course Jack wakes up, because Jack has a sixth sense about things like that and he’s determined not to let Sawyer do anything for himself.
“Hey.” Jack swings down from his bunk and turns on a lamp. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not okay, jackass.” Sawyer glares at him. “It feels like there’s bugs crawling all over me and I’m fuckin’ freezing and you’re snorin’ like a Mack truck and I’m sick of bein’ a goddamn prisoner in this fucked-up hatch. Anything else you wanna know?”
Jack grins. “Good. You’re back to being an asshole. That means you’re getting better.”
“Glad you approve. Now can I fuckin’ leave?”
Jack shakes his head, still grinning, and reaches toward the table where he keeps his supplies. “What do you mean, bugs?”
Sawyer sighs. Here’s Jack in the middle of the night, in his boxers and bare feet, charging to the rescue as always. Sawyer’s about to get doctored again, whether he likes it or not.
“Shoulder itches like a son of a bitch.”
Jack grabs a tube of something and sits down on the side of Sawyer’s bed. “That’s normal. Means it’s healing. The morphine might have something to do with it, too. It causes itching, sometimes.”
“You’re still givin’ me that shit?” No wonder he’s been sleeping so much. It might explain other things, too.
“Just a little. Just enough to take the edge off. We can skip your next dose and see how it goes, if you want. You’re due for it right about now.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jack reaches across his body and takes hold of Sawyer’s left arm and Sawyer sighs. He knows the drill by now.
Jack begins to rub vigorously. “Is the feeling coming back at all?”
“A little.” He can feel his arm, but his fingers are still numb.
“Okay, we’ll keep doing this, then. Keeps the circulation going, and that’ll stimulate the nerves. What else did you say was bothering you?”
“I’m cold, Doc. Can’t get warm, no matter what I do.”
“You’ve still got a little bit of a fever. And you were in shock….” Jack begins to rub Sawyer’s right arm with his other hand. “Again, if we can improve the circulation, it’ll help.”
It does help, and Sawyer allows it. But the sudden silence is uncomfortable, and Sawyer clears his throat and says, conversationally, “So you and Freckles finally hooked up. 'Bout damn time.”
Jack looks at him, startled. “Did she tell you that?”
“Sure did.” He tries to smirk. Tries not to sound bitter. He doesn’t think he pulls it off, though.
Jack shakes his head. “She was just trying to get a rise out of you. She’s been baiting you, trying to fire you up, make you want to fight this. Seeing how badly you want to get out of here, I think it worked.”
“Tryin’ to get a…what?” Sawyer almost chokes. “A rise out of me? Huh. Hell, that ain’t the only way she tried to do that, either.”
Jack raises an eyebrow, and Sawyer hesitates, suddenly at a loss for words. “Uh, Doc? That morphine. Could that, uh, numb you…everywhere? Even places that, ah, usually don’t need much stimulation to get the circulation goin’?”
Jack’s eyes widen and now it’s his turn to choke. “Are you telling me that she tried to…and you couldn’t…?”
Sawyer instantly regrets bringing it up, so he barks, “No. Never mind. Shut the fuck up and keep doin’ that, I’m cold everywhere, not just my arm.”
Jack avoids his eyes and moves his hands to Sawyer’s chest. “Yeah, morphine could have that effect. And you’re still weak. No need to panic yet.” He moves down to Sawyer’s stomach and then, avoiding the area that’s responsible for this sudden awkwardness, he moves down Sawyer’s thighs and calves and starts to rub his feet.
Every inch of his body is already sensitized by Jack’s touch, but Sawyer’s feet have always been an erogenous zone. Jack’s fingers burn as they slide along the soles, and now his circulation is going strong. It’s going strong everywhere. And all he’s wearing are his boxers and there’s no way he can hide what’s happening from Jack. So instead he just groans and closes his eyes and lets it happen.
Jack’s hands still and he makes a strangled little noise and he says, “See, I told you not to panic. Should I get Kate?”
Sawyer doesn’t answer right away. He’s turning it over in his mind, this question that’s been there for weeks. The attraction is there, between himself and Jack. It’s there, and it’s mutual, and now that he’s back he knows that there’s no getting away from it, no denying it. So he opens his eyes and gives Jack a long, steady look and tells him, “This ain’t about Kate, Doc. It’s about you.”
“Jesus, Sawyer.” Jack is clearly surprised by this blunt admission. His hands tighten around Sawyer’s feet, and he drops his head for a moment, and when he looks back up his eyes have darkened and he looks…hungry. “Are you sure?”
He’s as sure of this as he’s ever been of anything in his life. “Yeah, Doc, I’m sure. I want you.”
And then Jack is spreading Sawyer’s legs and crawling up his body to kneel between them, and Jack’s big warm hand closes around him, stroking him through his shorts. More, he needs more, and he begins to grind his hips, pushing up against Jack’s palm.
“Hold still,” Jack tells him. “Let me do all the work.” Carefully, he peels Sawyer’s shorts down and lets them drop to the floor, then he’s back to wrap his hand around Sawyer’s swollen cock and Sawyer isn’t cold anymore, he’s on fire. Jack’s hand slides over his skin, his thumb stroking the underside, down and then up, pressing against that spot just under the head and then up further, sliding along the tip, spreading the fluid that’s already starting to gather there. Sawyer tries to read Jack’s expression, looking for any sign of reluctance, of distaste, but all he sees there is arousal and intense concentration. Jack’s face is flushed and, like Sawyer, he’s starting to pant, and when Sawyer moans, Jack moans, too.
“Hold on a second, Doc,” Sawyer orders, his gaze dropping to the bulge in Jack’s shorts. “Stop.”
Jack’s hand stills and he looks at Sawyer, confused. “What…?”
Sawyer swallows, hard. “Take care of yourself, first.” When Jack hesitates, Sawyer adds, “I want to watch.”
Jack stares at him for a moment, then he nods slowly. He pushes his boxers down and, resting on his knees between Sawyer’s thighs, he begins to stroke himself. He’s too tall to sit upright in the lower bunk, so he has to lean forward, bracing himself with one hand against the bed, working himself with the other hand, his knuckles brushing against Sawyer’s straining cock. Sawyer wants to reach between them, to take Jack in his own hand, but one hand is numb and the other one is hindered by the IV, so it’s all up to Jack.
Jack’s eyes never leave Sawyer’s face, but Sawyer is looking down, watching what Jack does with his hand. He wants to know what Jack likes, what kind of rhythm he sets, what kind of stroke makes him gasp and curse. Jack is hard as steel now, pumping himself so vigorously that Sawyer can tell he’s almost there. “Fuck, Sawyer,” he groans, and then his back arches and, at the last possible second, he wraps his hand around Sawyer as well, pressing them together, letting Sawyer feel every violent jerk, every hot spurt. And he doesn’t even stop to catch his breath, he’s still shuddering with aftershocks when he swipes his hand through the come on Sawyer’s stomach and wraps his slick, hot fingers around Sawyer’s aching cock.
It’s too much; the sight and feel of Jack’s orgasm and the slick slide of Jack’s palm over the sensitive head make Sawyer thrust up, fucking Jack’s hand for all he’s worth, forgetting Jack’s orders to be still. His whole world has narrowed down to Jack’s hand, and the intensity of the sensations he is creating. He needs release so badly he thinks he might die of it. Jack’s other hand closes around his balls, and that takes him over the edge. He gasps and arches up high and Jack growls, “Come for me” and tightens his grip, and Sawyer does, he comes hard, riding wave after wave after wave of pleasure until the last wave pulls him under, and his vision blurs and he slips away, only to be pulled right back by Jack’s mouth on his and Jack’s hand in his hair and Jack’s heartbeat thudding against his chest. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans and Jack shudders against him for an instant before pulling back and giving him a long, dazed stare.
“You okay?” he asks finally.
“Shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Endorphins. Getting off releases endorphins. Great painkillers.”
Sawyer is still trying to catch his breath, but that makes him laugh. “They teach you that in med school, Doc?”
Jack laughs, too. “No, I figured that one out on my own.” He reaches for a cloth and begins to wipe their combined semen off of Sawyer’s chest and stomach. Sawyer sighs and closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of Jack’s hands on him, enjoying being taken care of.
In a few days, he’ll be strong enough to take care of himself. He’ll be strong enough to leave. He’ll have won back his independence.
Somehow, that doesn’t feel like a victory anymore.
End
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Date: 2005-11-14 12:56 am (UTC)Best. line. ever.
This was good. Poor Sawyer, everybody taking care of him and he's still having a tough time. But I liked how it all unfolded, with the hatch, and Kate's visit, and Jack rubbing his feet. (who knew that could be so hot?)
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Date: 2005-11-14 05:25 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading. :)
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Date: 2005-11-14 08:17 pm (UTC)I love all the hurt!Sawyer fics, and it's totally cool that they're all different from each other, even though you'd think they'd turn out basically the same.
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Date: 2005-11-14 01:30 am (UTC)Don't leave again. And write more. Now. Do it. Don't argue with me.
So good. SOOOO good.
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Date: 2005-11-14 05:32 pm (UTC)I won't stop writing. I'll always ♥ Jack/Sawyer, no matter what kind of mess they make out of my show. ;) Now, what are YOU doing reading this? You go write, too. Now. Shoo.
;)
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Date: 2005-11-14 06:27 pm (UTC)And now people are making me write HET - for Grey's Anatomy. My muse got very mad when I told her to put Sawyer down and get to work. (I think she was having fun playing)
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Date: 2005-11-14 01:39 am (UTC)And (I just saw your comment to my fic), here I was thinking the same thing, LOL, that I much preferred your fic over mine. ;-D I really glossed over Sawyer's reaction to the strangeness of the hatch and all the questions he would have, in the name of keeping things light and not too involved. You did a great job of that here, tying it back to his delusion about being back in civilization. (And I almost wrote Jack sleeping in the bunk above too! I think we're bound to overlap what with all the nursing and shower fic out there but the more fics the merrier, right?)
This was lovely and hot and such a great finish (heh) to the series. I love him being unresponsive to Kate because he just wants Jack! This played out so well, with him trying to sort out reality from his fever dreams and his feelings once he's finally aware of his surroundings. And guh - so hot!
Again, LOVE IT! And great use of the prompt, too. Love, love, love!
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Date: 2005-11-14 05:43 pm (UTC)That cracks me up, because I almost wrote Jack giving Sawyer a sponge bath! Great minds think alike, I guess. ;D
I LOVE how we can all take the same idea and make so many different things out of it. It never gets old for me.
THANK YOU for the wonderful feedback. It means a lot to me, coming from you, because your fics are just amazing. *hugs*
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Date: 2005-11-14 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 03:57 am (UTC)This series rocked, babe. Give yourself a pat on the back.
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Date: 2005-11-14 05:52 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading, and thanks for the motivation! That is, seriously, my new motto. Pat *yourself* on the back, for being so wise. :)
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Date: 2005-11-15 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 12:59 am (UTC)missali@cableone.net.
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Date: 2005-11-15 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 05:55 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading! :)
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Date: 2005-11-14 04:23 am (UTC)Then there's the p0rn. Lmao. Kate couldn't. But Jack, could. Rofl!!!! Loved it!
I'm telling you now, Wounded!Sawyer/Doctor!Jack fic will never get old. :-)
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Date: 2005-11-14 05:58 pm (UTC)So glad you liked it! Thanks for the help! *smooches*
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Date: 2005-11-14 07:08 am (UTC)It's late and I'm really giggly right now, and you're responsible! :D
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Date: 2005-11-14 06:02 pm (UTC)I missed you, too! It was weird to write fic without having 11 other windows open and clicking randomly whenever I got stuck, which is a trick that YOU taught me! It was kind of sad and lonely...it's good to be back.
So glad you liked the fic! :D
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Date: 2005-11-14 06:46 pm (UTC)Wow and guh and melt me into a puddle. Just what I needed right now (lust in the afternoon).
Oh yeah, good writing, too. Got the Jack and Sawyer characterizations just right.
Nice buildup as well. I like how you have different styles and povs and feels to the different parts of this quatrain (right word? Trio + sequel?).
Let's hear it for J-n-Sfics. Yum-meee!
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Date: 2005-11-14 07:24 pm (UTC)I'm proud that I could melt you into a puddle. ;)
Thanks so much for reading! *hugs*
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Date: 2005-11-14 08:32 pm (UTC)Urk . . . yeah. Shouldn't read this at work, LOL!! Wow. I mean. Wow. I stumbled in from some community - you managed to render me speechless and apparently, thoughtless - not an easy task! Anyway, had to say, wonderful! Man.
Damn.
And I loved this line -
When he feels more like talking he’ll have to remember to ask Jack what rabbit-hole they’ve fallen into this time.
*goes to reread*
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Date: 2005-11-14 10:49 pm (UTC)And I loved this line -
When he feels more like talking he’ll have to remember to ask Jack what rabbit-hole they’ve fallen into this time.
Thanks! I liked that line, too, so I'm glad to know somebody else appreciated it. :)
Thanks for the awesome fb! :D
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Date: 2005-11-14 09:52 pm (UTC)“This ain’t about Kate,Doc.It’s about you.”
YES! There is just so much truth in this line!Can't get any better!
“They teach you that in med school,Doc?”
Hehehe...he sounded like his old self here and made me smile:)
lovely!!! :D
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Date: 2005-11-14 10:54 pm (UTC)THANK YOU for saying that. It was the first time I ever tried to write a handjob, so I wasn't sure I was doing it right! ;)
Yes, I think he is getting back to being his old self, with Jack's help, of course. :)
So glad you liked it! *hugs*
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Date: 2005-11-15 03:34 pm (UTC)*smooch*
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Date: 2005-11-15 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 01:01 am (UTC)So glad you liked it. I'm so, so honored when someone likes my fic enough to add it to memories. *big, big hugs*
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Date: 2005-11-15 02:36 am (UTC)And I gotta say...of all the stories I've read, I feel like your interpretations of the characters are the most accurate. One of my Lost slash pet peeves is at the first mention of sex someone has to blush and get embarrassed, but I love my man slut because it's masculine and they know what they want; if I wanted a blushing "woman" I'd read het fiction. XP
Wonderful job.
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Date: 2005-11-15 03:42 am (UTC)No girly Jack or Sawyer for me. They're both mansluts. XD
Thanks for the feedback, and thanks for reading!
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Date: 2005-11-15 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 07:32 pm (UTC)Always happy to be a bad influence. ;D
Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2005-11-15 10:35 pm (UTC)I think I just found my cure...much better than chicken soup! *smooch*
*runs off to read the series backwards*
*takes jack and sawyer home for the night too*
Oh, and by way of a more thorough comment...I loved that Jack, Sun AND Kate were all taking care of him...and who wouldn't choose Jack? poor helpless molested sawyer ;P
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Date: 2005-11-16 01:39 am (UTC)Well, he didn't seem to be too traumatized by it. ;D
Reading backward? That would boggle my brain. 'Course, most things do....
Glad I made you feel better!
*waves* cuz *hugs* are germy. ;)
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Date: 2005-11-17 07:50 pm (UTC)you are a gifted writer, will surely lurk back around to see your other stuff!
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Date: 2005-11-18 03:58 am (UTC)My stuff pops up randmly from place to place, but it's all in my memories (link is on my user info page) and most of it is on my
So glad you enjoyed it! :)
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Date: 2005-11-18 08:22 pm (UTC)Brilliant!
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Date: 2005-11-20 03:05 am (UTC)I started out writing it as a dream, but the angst of Sawyer-without-Jack was too much for even me...and that's saying a lot! ;D Sawyer will always find a way to be with Jack...in fanon, if not in canon. Maybe in canon, too? Maybe if we all wish hard enough, we can make it happen....
(We can dream, can't we?)
Thanks for reading! :)
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Date: 2006-03-01 11:11 pm (UTC)With this series, again, I really enjoyed the final part. You write Sawyer and Jack apart well, but you write them so damn good together.
I hope you don't mind if I friend you - I'm fast becoming a rabid Jack/Sawyer fan, and I'd like to keep up with your fics :o)
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Date: 2006-03-02 01:41 am (UTC)Yay for friending! I'll friend back.
And welcome to the world of rabid-J/S fangirling. ;)
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Date: 2006-12-31 10:55 pm (UTC)happy new year!
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Date: 2007-01-02 02:46 am (UTC)Yay for friending! I visited your user info and you don't have an age listed, but if you want me to friend back and pinkie promise you're over 18, I'll add you back! ;)
Happy New Year!
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Date: 2007-01-02 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-05 09:32 pm (UTC)Enjoying your writing.
Sorry i have not left more comments.(will work on that!)
On this series of stories
time out, cold, game plan, victory.
Well i am not able to view cold and game plan.?
Not sure what the issue is. I really would like to read them. Thanks
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Date: 2009-07-05 09:59 pm (UTC)