New to the comm, but I bring fic!
This was posted on Lost Slash and my FF.net account- but I don't think many people there appreciate Charlie. So I was beyond glad when I stumbled upon this community. Charlie will always be my favorite ^ - ^
Title: The Wrong Idea
Summary: In the 23rd Pslam Charlie didn't want Claire to get the wrong idea when he goes into the jungle with Eko- but It's not for the reason one would assume.
Rating: It's tame. Pg to pg-13 for implied stuff. So that's like T or K or whatever...
Pairing: CharlieJack, CharlieSawyer, CharlieBoone. (But not all at once!) and the implication of pre-CharlieEko. haha
AN: Thanks to my wonderful beta LolaCherryCola girl on ff.net. Heard a line, had to write about it. It's happened again as well. Season three line, this time. There may be smut in my next one. Not here though... Enjoy. Oh and the end? Them last lines- I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for that.
The Wrong Idea
“…you said you didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. What is the wrong idea?”
Charlie almost wants to laugh.
No, he doesn’t want Claire to get the wrong idea. But it has nothing to do with using.
…Charlie has a habit of going off into the jungle with men...
ooo
The first time, with Jack, was chaotic. A rush and blur of hearts pounding, terror fuelling, adrenalin.
He was still detoxing; the after effects of the heroin continuing to make his muscles twitch every so often. Jack asked him if he’d like to help gather more dry wood for fires before it rained. He hadn’t, but Jack ordered him too in that not unkindly I’m-a-doctor-I-know-what-you-need way of his.
So Charlie followed him, carrying a torch he didn’t think should have been entrusted to him with his muscles going into spasms every now and then, but glad deep down that Jack did trust him not to drop it.
They’d been gathering for a while when rustling alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone. A tree was felled.
With a raised eyebrow Charlie asked if it was maybe Locke, but Jack put his finger to his lips and Charlie swallowed what he had been going to say next.
When another tree fell, this time closer to them, they didn’t stick around to see what did it. The rain started before they found a hidden shelter- a hollow cave made from a fallen tree’s roots.
The torch, long sizzled out from the down pour of rain was dropped and they squeezed themselves into the cropping; the old drooping roots and vines hid them like an old willow in the country.
Charlie’s muscles contracted violently, and he wasn’t sure if it was the withdrawals, the chill from the rain, or the terror of whatever was chasing them. It didn’t matter. He bit his tongue accidentally and gasped. Then Jacks arms were around his shoulders trying to stop the lingering shakes.
Charlie had looked up at him, trying to form a smile but failing. His eyes locked on Jacks as the rain beat down, almost he thought, in time with his racing heart. He could swear he still heard their pursuer over the sound.
He didn’t know who started it. Later he’d decide it didn’t matter. One moment Jack was trying to comfort and calm him, and the next lips were pushing together, hands were being placed, clothing rearranged, and the adrenalin from the fright was being put to very good use.
They didn’t speak about it afterwards, but it wouldn’t be the last time Jack asked him to help with finding firewood.
ooo
“I don’t have to tell you anything, man. You come traipsing across the island and suddenly now you’re in charge?”
ooo
Sawyer was being his usual wanker self and Charlie almost wasn’t going to ask. But he needed aspirin, Tylenol- something. He was sore and tired and possibly not thinking clearly when he’d gone to Sawyer instead of Jack.
In his mind he defended his lack of sense buy reminding himself that Jack’ had been with Kate more and more lately and even at the moment they were off together somewhere.
But he asked, and there he was, following Sawyer into the jungle to his stash and thinking of what he had to trade. And it would have to be a trade: With Sawyer there was no such thing as a free lunch. Unless, of course, it was Sawyer himself tricking his way to one.
He’d see what meds the man had first before choosing what he’d trade it for, he decided.
It turned out he had quite the collection. Charlie wondered if plundering the dead’s luggage was anything like grave robbing.
Then he realized he didn’t want to know and told Sawyer he wanted whatever that was in the over-the-counter looking container.
Ibuprofen, he was told. And it would mean one hell of a trade; them little pills could be used for a lot of things.
Charlie didn’t have anything big. Only his guitar, and like hell he’d part with that. He told the other man as much.
Ever the businessman, Sawyer grinned and leaned against the nearest tree, arms crossed: ready to bargain.
Charlie offered a few shirts. A pair of shoes he’d nicked that didn’t really fit him- and he didn’t think they’d fit Sawyer either.
Sawyer didn’t accept anything and the aches in Charlie’s head and limbs from the rough living and, finally over, detoxifying grew.
Fed up and without anything else to offer, Charlie threw his hands in the air and offered himself.
To that, Sawyer agreed after only a moment’s consideration. When Charlie’s gob smacked mind caught up he could only ask why, out of all the useful things he’d offered, it was sex Sawyer agreed to. His answer was a simple blistering, forceful kiss and a rough push to the ground.
Charlie wasn’t surprised Sawyer wanted to be on top.
ooo
“You want me to take you to the plane? You best be showing me some respect.”
ooo
People were starting to talk. About Boone and Locke always going off into the jungle together. Some people were saying it was for…primal…reasons that had nothing to do with hunting boars. But there were differences between going out to hunt and going out and getting shagged. And those two were definitely in the first category. Charlie was becoming increasingly familiar with what to look for in the second and they didn’t have it.
So he became just as curious. He thought about following the pair all Mission Impossible-like, but with Locke, there’d be no way he’d go unnoticed and no way he’d find out. Not if Locke didn’t want him to.
Ask was his next idea, and he’d felt it was a pretty spotty one. Would they even tell him?
He decided to ask on a rare moment that Boone was alone. He’d be easier to charm without the aged tracker.
Charlie always had a way with people. Never knew why, but people generally liked him.
Boone didn’t seem to be any different- if a little defensive. He’d countered Charlie’s not so eloquent question with his own. He asked if Charlie was jealous. Charlie had snorted and assured the man that he in no way wanted to spend so much time with Locke in the jungle. He didn’t say it was because lately he and guys in the jungle rarely turned out like he’d expected.
Then Boone smiled slightly, for no apparent reason Charlie could discern and said to come with him, before he grabbed his bag and headed back to the tree line.
After a slightly nonplussed moment where his last foray into the jungle with company passed briefly through his mind, Charlie decided curiosity really did kill the bloody cat and hurried after him.
He wondered if he was becoming a whore- if he had been one all along -when he found himself walking alongside the taller American and flirting. Boone didn’t seem to think so anyway, but then again he didn’t know about Jack and Sawyer.
By the time it was nearing sunset Charlie highly doubted he’d learn what the big secret was. They had finally stopped for water at a very small clearing scattered with leaves and a boulder here and there.
Charlie turned to Boone to hand the water bottle back and suddenly found himself kissing the third man of their little group of castaways. He almost wanted to ask the American why, but he knew what the answer would be. They’re stuck on an island, something’s out here and its deadly- any small amount of stress relief was needed.
So Charlie welcomed the almost loving way they did it- so different from the adrenalin and rush of Jack and the aggression and submission of Sawyer- and he didn’t say anything when Boone muttered Shannon’s name at the end.
ooo
So Mr. Eko has it wrong. But maybe that’s for the best. Let him think it's the heroin.
Because before long Charlie’s finding himself up a tree, watching the black smoke stare the big man down, and all that’s going though his mind is the quip he just said, and how blasphemously dirty it's sounding:
‘You gonna beat me with your Jesus stick?’
Fin
Title: The Wrong Idea
Summary: In the 23rd Pslam Charlie didn't want Claire to get the wrong idea when he goes into the jungle with Eko- but It's not for the reason one would assume.
Rating: It's tame. Pg to pg-13 for implied stuff. So that's like T or K or whatever...
Pairing: CharlieJack, CharlieSawyer, CharlieBoone. (But not all at once!) and the implication of pre-CharlieEko. haha
AN: Thanks to my wonderful beta LolaCherryCola girl on ff.net. Heard a line, had to write about it. It's happened again as well. Season three line, this time. There may be smut in my next one. Not here though... Enjoy. Oh and the end? Them last lines- I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for that.
The Wrong Idea
“…you said you didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. What is the wrong idea?”
Charlie almost wants to laugh.
No, he doesn’t want Claire to get the wrong idea. But it has nothing to do with using.
…Charlie has a habit of going off into the jungle with men...
ooo
The first time, with Jack, was chaotic. A rush and blur of hearts pounding, terror fuelling, adrenalin.
He was still detoxing; the after effects of the heroin continuing to make his muscles twitch every so often. Jack asked him if he’d like to help gather more dry wood for fires before it rained. He hadn’t, but Jack ordered him too in that not unkindly I’m-a-doctor-I-know-what-you-need way of his.
So Charlie followed him, carrying a torch he didn’t think should have been entrusted to him with his muscles going into spasms every now and then, but glad deep down that Jack did trust him not to drop it.
They’d been gathering for a while when rustling alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone. A tree was felled.
With a raised eyebrow Charlie asked if it was maybe Locke, but Jack put his finger to his lips and Charlie swallowed what he had been going to say next.
When another tree fell, this time closer to them, they didn’t stick around to see what did it. The rain started before they found a hidden shelter- a hollow cave made from a fallen tree’s roots.
The torch, long sizzled out from the down pour of rain was dropped and they squeezed themselves into the cropping; the old drooping roots and vines hid them like an old willow in the country.
Charlie’s muscles contracted violently, and he wasn’t sure if it was the withdrawals, the chill from the rain, or the terror of whatever was chasing them. It didn’t matter. He bit his tongue accidentally and gasped. Then Jacks arms were around his shoulders trying to stop the lingering shakes.
Charlie had looked up at him, trying to form a smile but failing. His eyes locked on Jacks as the rain beat down, almost he thought, in time with his racing heart. He could swear he still heard their pursuer over the sound.
He didn’t know who started it. Later he’d decide it didn’t matter. One moment Jack was trying to comfort and calm him, and the next lips were pushing together, hands were being placed, clothing rearranged, and the adrenalin from the fright was being put to very good use.
They didn’t speak about it afterwards, but it wouldn’t be the last time Jack asked him to help with finding firewood.
ooo
“I don’t have to tell you anything, man. You come traipsing across the island and suddenly now you’re in charge?”
ooo
Sawyer was being his usual wanker self and Charlie almost wasn’t going to ask. But he needed aspirin, Tylenol- something. He was sore and tired and possibly not thinking clearly when he’d gone to Sawyer instead of Jack.
In his mind he defended his lack of sense buy reminding himself that Jack’ had been with Kate more and more lately and even at the moment they were off together somewhere.
But he asked, and there he was, following Sawyer into the jungle to his stash and thinking of what he had to trade. And it would have to be a trade: With Sawyer there was no such thing as a free lunch. Unless, of course, it was Sawyer himself tricking his way to one.
He’d see what meds the man had first before choosing what he’d trade it for, he decided.
It turned out he had quite the collection. Charlie wondered if plundering the dead’s luggage was anything like grave robbing.
Then he realized he didn’t want to know and told Sawyer he wanted whatever that was in the over-the-counter looking container.
Ibuprofen, he was told. And it would mean one hell of a trade; them little pills could be used for a lot of things.
Charlie didn’t have anything big. Only his guitar, and like hell he’d part with that. He told the other man as much.
Ever the businessman, Sawyer grinned and leaned against the nearest tree, arms crossed: ready to bargain.
Charlie offered a few shirts. A pair of shoes he’d nicked that didn’t really fit him- and he didn’t think they’d fit Sawyer either.
Sawyer didn’t accept anything and the aches in Charlie’s head and limbs from the rough living and, finally over, detoxifying grew.
Fed up and without anything else to offer, Charlie threw his hands in the air and offered himself.
To that, Sawyer agreed after only a moment’s consideration. When Charlie’s gob smacked mind caught up he could only ask why, out of all the useful things he’d offered, it was sex Sawyer agreed to. His answer was a simple blistering, forceful kiss and a rough push to the ground.
Charlie wasn’t surprised Sawyer wanted to be on top.
ooo
“You want me to take you to the plane? You best be showing me some respect.”
ooo
People were starting to talk. About Boone and Locke always going off into the jungle together. Some people were saying it was for…primal…reasons that had nothing to do with hunting boars. But there were differences between going out to hunt and going out and getting shagged. And those two were definitely in the first category. Charlie was becoming increasingly familiar with what to look for in the second and they didn’t have it.
So he became just as curious. He thought about following the pair all Mission Impossible-like, but with Locke, there’d be no way he’d go unnoticed and no way he’d find out. Not if Locke didn’t want him to.
Ask was his next idea, and he’d felt it was a pretty spotty one. Would they even tell him?
He decided to ask on a rare moment that Boone was alone. He’d be easier to charm without the aged tracker.
Charlie always had a way with people. Never knew why, but people generally liked him.
Boone didn’t seem to be any different- if a little defensive. He’d countered Charlie’s not so eloquent question with his own. He asked if Charlie was jealous. Charlie had snorted and assured the man that he in no way wanted to spend so much time with Locke in the jungle. He didn’t say it was because lately he and guys in the jungle rarely turned out like he’d expected.
Then Boone smiled slightly, for no apparent reason Charlie could discern and said to come with him, before he grabbed his bag and headed back to the tree line.
After a slightly nonplussed moment where his last foray into the jungle with company passed briefly through his mind, Charlie decided curiosity really did kill the bloody cat and hurried after him.
He wondered if he was becoming a whore- if he had been one all along -when he found himself walking alongside the taller American and flirting. Boone didn’t seem to think so anyway, but then again he didn’t know about Jack and Sawyer.
By the time it was nearing sunset Charlie highly doubted he’d learn what the big secret was. They had finally stopped for water at a very small clearing scattered with leaves and a boulder here and there.
Charlie turned to Boone to hand the water bottle back and suddenly found himself kissing the third man of their little group of castaways. He almost wanted to ask the American why, but he knew what the answer would be. They’re stuck on an island, something’s out here and its deadly- any small amount of stress relief was needed.
So Charlie welcomed the almost loving way they did it- so different from the adrenalin and rush of Jack and the aggression and submission of Sawyer- and he didn’t say anything when Boone muttered Shannon’s name at the end.
ooo
So Mr. Eko has it wrong. But maybe that’s for the best. Let him think it's the heroin.
Because before long Charlie’s finding himself up a tree, watching the black smoke stare the big man down, and all that’s going though his mind is the quip he just said, and how blasphemously dirty it's sounding:
‘You gonna beat me with your Jesus stick?’
Fin