Lost ficlet: The Tennessee Moon (Jack, Sawyer, AU)
Title: The Tennessee Moon
Characters: Jack, Sawyer.
Words: 850
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine. And Kinky Boots isn't either.
Spoilers: None. It's completely AU.
Summary: Two strangers meet in the night.
A/N: A belated offering for previous Queen janie_tangerine, who requested crossdressing, and for Queen inthekeyofd, who requested white. Inspired and adapted (i.e. blatantly stolen, ha!) from the initial scenes of "Kinky Boots", the film. I meant this to be the beginning of a longer fic, using other scenes from the movie, but since I don't know how long that will take - or even if I will able to do it - I'm posting this in the meantime.
Also, it's unbetaed, so feel free to point out any errors.
The air was thick and humid, prone to rain again on a whim. The cold infiltrated Jack’s coat and he hurried down the street, already imagining a warm home. The light wouldn’t be on - Vincent had never learned that trick, differently from those circus show-off cats he used to see in the cartoons of his youth.
The lamps were projecting a small circle of light in the foggy air, the sky already dark even if it wasn’t much later than 7 pm. Winter days are short in New England.
The work day ended some time ago and not many people were out walking along the river, where the rain seemed to merge with the grey waters below, creating an out-of-the-world atmosphere.
Jack shook his head at the long lost reality of a working day ever ending, and not following him home like a stray dog, and kept walking, his footsteps the only sound other than the swoosh of cars racing by on the wet asphalt.
Probably that was why Jack heard the voices.
“All right, sugar?” said a raucous voice somewhere behind the corner.
“Let daddy help you, gorgeous” said another voice, bellowing a derisive laugh.
Walking faster, Jack rounded the corner and took in the scene. Just as he had imagined: a girl was laying in an uncomfortable position on the pavement, her ankle probably sprained, and two of those rowdy rascals even a classy city like Boston hides in its belly were slowly approaching her, twin malevolent looks on their faces.
Jack had always been a man of instinct, and he couldn’t have stopped his next words just as he couldn’t have stopped his heart beating faster, the adrenaline already pumping.
“Everything all right, gentlemen?” he had learned long ago the calm and educated approach was usually the best. “I think you should just leave her alone now, don’t you think?”
The two men - beer-bellied, half-balding, probably on their road from a downstairs pub to another - looked up at Jack, judging him. Then one of them simply shrugged. “All yours” he said, and started to cross the street, followed by his companion. “Yeah, she’s all yours”, repeated the second troll, still laughing.
Jack followed them with his eyes until they passed around the corner, then turned to help the girl up. And found out she was already on her feet, two amazingly blue eyes twinkling at him a few inches above his own eye level.
“Well, thank you. It was very sweet, you riding to my rescue.” The girl - not a girl, Jack thought frantically - smirked at him, showing a couple of dimples, the left hand moving to encompass the scene, blonde hair waving gently as she - he? - talked. “Very Prince Charming.”
Jack rubbed his head, a little self-conscious. The stranger was teasing him. “Hm. Well, you know, bullies. Wasn’t very difficult.” Looking down, he remembered something. “Wait. What about your ankle? Let’s have a look”.
“Oh, so you’re a doctor, too? Cute.” This time it was a real smile on her - his - face. Fuck this, Jack thought.
“No, I’m not. I’m Jack. I make shoes” he extended his hand towards the blonde figure, finally looking closely, his mistake easily explained. Long, smooth, muscular legs, a flowing white dress hugging a toned ass and what seemed a C-cup - probably fake add-ons, Jack thought - ending in a turtleneck that left the shoulders bare. Blonde hair reaching the stranger’s chin, dimples, blue eyes and a dazzling smile. All considered, he had a stunning appearance - if he were a woman.
The stranger’s hand was smooth but his handshake firm. “A shoemaker, huh? I should hate all of your genre” he picked up his ruined right shoe as proof, the heel hanging from a thin thread of leather. “Fuck. Clean off, again. Like most things in life, it cannot stand the weight of a man.”
Jack was suddenly fighting a blush under the mischievous look he was receiving. Then the blonde took pity on him “I’m Jamie. And I’m Luna”.
“Luna?”
Jamie indicated a sign in the distance. It read Luna, the Tennessee Moon - every Thursday and Friday night at 9 p.m.
Jack tried to stop a nervous laugh, with no real success. “So, you’re a… transvestite, right?”
He didn’t know why he was stating the obvious, and he suddenly felt bad for asking. He made a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Jamie - no way I’m calling him Luna, Jack thought - chuckled. “No offense… Jack, right? But no. I'm not merely a transvestite, sweetheart. I'm also a drag queen.”
He paused, looking for the right words. “It's a simple equation. A drag queen puts on a frock, looks like Demi. A transvestite puts on a frock, looks like... Boris Yeltsin in lipstick.”
The smirk that ended this affirmation was contagious, and this time Jack allowed himself a matching one. “I thought you were more of a Uma type.”
“You may be right” said Jamie, with another mischievous smile. And Jack could have sworn he winked at him.
“So, shoemaker, wanna see a drag queen sing?”
Characters: Jack, Sawyer.
Words: 850
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine. And Kinky Boots isn't either.
Spoilers: None. It's completely AU.
Summary: Two strangers meet in the night.
A/N: A belated offering for previous Queen janie_tangerine, who requested crossdressing, and for Queen inthekeyofd, who requested white. Inspired and adapted (i.e. blatantly stolen, ha!) from the initial scenes of "Kinky Boots", the film. I meant this to be the beginning of a longer fic, using other scenes from the movie, but since I don't know how long that will take - or even if I will able to do it - I'm posting this in the meantime.
Also, it's unbetaed, so feel free to point out any errors.
The air was thick and humid, prone to rain again on a whim. The cold infiltrated Jack’s coat and he hurried down the street, already imagining a warm home. The light wouldn’t be on - Vincent had never learned that trick, differently from those circus show-off cats he used to see in the cartoons of his youth.
The lamps were projecting a small circle of light in the foggy air, the sky already dark even if it wasn’t much later than 7 pm. Winter days are short in New England.
The work day ended some time ago and not many people were out walking along the river, where the rain seemed to merge with the grey waters below, creating an out-of-the-world atmosphere.
Jack shook his head at the long lost reality of a working day ever ending, and not following him home like a stray dog, and kept walking, his footsteps the only sound other than the swoosh of cars racing by on the wet asphalt.
Probably that was why Jack heard the voices.
“All right, sugar?” said a raucous voice somewhere behind the corner.
“Let daddy help you, gorgeous” said another voice, bellowing a derisive laugh.
Walking faster, Jack rounded the corner and took in the scene. Just as he had imagined: a girl was laying in an uncomfortable position on the pavement, her ankle probably sprained, and two of those rowdy rascals even a classy city like Boston hides in its belly were slowly approaching her, twin malevolent looks on their faces.
Jack had always been a man of instinct, and he couldn’t have stopped his next words just as he couldn’t have stopped his heart beating faster, the adrenaline already pumping.
“Everything all right, gentlemen?” he had learned long ago the calm and educated approach was usually the best. “I think you should just leave her alone now, don’t you think?”
The two men - beer-bellied, half-balding, probably on their road from a downstairs pub to another - looked up at Jack, judging him. Then one of them simply shrugged. “All yours” he said, and started to cross the street, followed by his companion. “Yeah, she’s all yours”, repeated the second troll, still laughing.
Jack followed them with his eyes until they passed around the corner, then turned to help the girl up. And found out she was already on her feet, two amazingly blue eyes twinkling at him a few inches above his own eye level.
“Well, thank you. It was very sweet, you riding to my rescue.” The girl - not a girl, Jack thought frantically - smirked at him, showing a couple of dimples, the left hand moving to encompass the scene, blonde hair waving gently as she - he? - talked. “Very Prince Charming.”
Jack rubbed his head, a little self-conscious. The stranger was teasing him. “Hm. Well, you know, bullies. Wasn’t very difficult.” Looking down, he remembered something. “Wait. What about your ankle? Let’s have a look”.
“Oh, so you’re a doctor, too? Cute.” This time it was a real smile on her - his - face. Fuck this, Jack thought.
“No, I’m not. I’m Jack. I make shoes” he extended his hand towards the blonde figure, finally looking closely, his mistake easily explained. Long, smooth, muscular legs, a flowing white dress hugging a toned ass and what seemed a C-cup - probably fake add-ons, Jack thought - ending in a turtleneck that left the shoulders bare. Blonde hair reaching the stranger’s chin, dimples, blue eyes and a dazzling smile. All considered, he had a stunning appearance - if he were a woman.
The stranger’s hand was smooth but his handshake firm. “A shoemaker, huh? I should hate all of your genre” he picked up his ruined right shoe as proof, the heel hanging from a thin thread of leather. “Fuck. Clean off, again. Like most things in life, it cannot stand the weight of a man.”
Jack was suddenly fighting a blush under the mischievous look he was receiving. Then the blonde took pity on him “I’m Jamie. And I’m Luna”.
“Luna?”
Jamie indicated a sign in the distance. It read Luna, the Tennessee Moon - every Thursday and Friday night at 9 p.m.
Jack tried to stop a nervous laugh, with no real success. “So, you’re a… transvestite, right?”
He didn’t know why he was stating the obvious, and he suddenly felt bad for asking. He made a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Jamie - no way I’m calling him Luna, Jack thought - chuckled. “No offense… Jack, right? But no. I'm not merely a transvestite, sweetheart. I'm also a drag queen.”
He paused, looking for the right words. “It's a simple equation. A drag queen puts on a frock, looks like Demi. A transvestite puts on a frock, looks like... Boris Yeltsin in lipstick.”
The smirk that ended this affirmation was contagious, and this time Jack allowed himself a matching one. “I thought you were more of a Uma type.”
“You may be right” said Jamie, with another mischievous smile. And Jack could have sworn he winked at him.
“So, shoemaker, wanna see a drag queen sing?”