Lost fic: "Hershey's on 6th Street"
What do I do at 1:30 on a Friday night Saturday morning? Make icons and write fic, cuz I'm so bored and tired (but it's too loud to sleep; damn the drunks) and... feeling creative. Plus I've got so much homework this weekend it's not like I'll have time the next few days. Have a little fun while I can right? OMG it's not crack!fic!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title: Hershey’s on 6th Street
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JJ and Damon. Except James’ middle name. That belongs to Josh Holloway *wink*.
Words: 587
Rating: G
Summary: Sawyer hates getting his hair cut. So did James.
Author’s Notes: I don’t think it is that hard to figure out, but italics are flashbacks. Set after “What Kate Did.”
“Just ‘cause Freckles says I need one doesn’t mean I hafta get one,” Sawyer grumbled. Claire sighed and pushed him into the desk chair that usually sat at the super computer. He ran a hand through his hair - who knew if he’d be able to do that soon? - and stiffened slightly when she reached down to tie a towel around his neck.
“I’ve given a fair few haircuts,” she said, fussing with the towel and making sure it covered his shoulder. “I won’t butcher it, I promise.”
“It ain’t personal, Mamacita,” he said, almost contrite. “I’ve just never been one for haircuts.”
“I ain’t going!”
“You’ll go if I say so, young man!”
“Billy always cuts it too short!”
“It’ll look fine, James, and that’s the end of it!
“I gathered as much,” Claire smiled, searching the kitchen counter for the scissors Locke had sharpened that morning. “Not many guys I know would let their hair get as long as yours just for something to do.”
“Aw, you don’t like my hair?” He grinned at her, dimples and all. Maybe if he charmed her she’d put those damned scissors down.
“Like it fine,” she said, turning his head back around, “but I like to see that smile better.”
“It’s getting too long, James.”
“No, Ma, it ain’t.”
“You know the rule: when I can’t see your eyebrows!”
“They’re right there! I swear!”
“Fair enough,” he muttered. He heard her snipping at the hair at the nape of his neck, felt it fall onto his bare back. It itched and he felt like he was trapped back in Hershey’s Barbershop on 6th Street all over again. He sunk low in the chair, squirming and scratching his back. Claire’s hand grabbed his good shoulder.
“Sawyer! Stop moving!”
“Damnit, James, would you hold still?”
“He’s gonna cut it too short, Daddy!”
“Do I have to hold you down, boy?”
“I’m holding still!”
“Sawyer, I swear, you’re worse than Aaron sometimes. He doesn’t move this much when I go to change his nappies.” Claire raised the scissors again but Sawyer turned in his seat.
“How is the little screamer?” he asked, hoping his voice carried enough interest to distract her.
“He’s fine,” she shrugged, then smiled. “Adorable. I think he may have missed his bedtime stories.”
“Truck ads count as bedtime stories?”
“They do on Craphole Island,” Claire said, spinning Sawyer back around. He groaned and started squirming again. “Sorry, Sawyer, can’t distract me that easily. It’s just a haircut!”
“I’m ‘bout done.”
“It’s a damned buzzcut, Billy!”
“James Lee Ford! You watch your mouth, boy, or so help me God -”
“You promised he wouldn’t cut it short, Daddy! An’ look what he’s done!”
“Just about done,” Claire said, and he imagined the look of concentration on her face, eyes squinting, biting her tongue.
“It looks fine!”
“I don’t got any hair left, Ma!”
“There!” Claire spun the desk chair around and whipped the towel from his neck. “Go on, take a look.”
“Soon as I’m old enough, I’m never cuttin’ my hair again!”
Sawyer looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom; he was tanner than he remembered, but his face was sickly and his shoulder was redder than it should be. He shook his head, freeing all the cut hairs and they rained down, making him itch again. He shrugged. Mamacita didn’t do such a bad job. Looked like he did when they crashed. Not too short.
Not long enough either.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title: Hershey’s on 6th Street
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JJ and Damon. Except James’ middle name. That belongs to Josh Holloway *wink*.
Words: 587
Rating: G
Summary: Sawyer hates getting his hair cut. So did James.
Author’s Notes: I don’t think it is that hard to figure out, but italics are flashbacks. Set after “What Kate Did.”
“Just ‘cause Freckles says I need one doesn’t mean I hafta get one,” Sawyer grumbled. Claire sighed and pushed him into the desk chair that usually sat at the super computer. He ran a hand through his hair - who knew if he’d be able to do that soon? - and stiffened slightly when she reached down to tie a towel around his neck.
“I’ve given a fair few haircuts,” she said, fussing with the towel and making sure it covered his shoulder. “I won’t butcher it, I promise.”
“It ain’t personal, Mamacita,” he said, almost contrite. “I’ve just never been one for haircuts.”
“I ain’t going!”
“You’ll go if I say so, young man!”
“Billy always cuts it too short!”
“It’ll look fine, James, and that’s the end of it!
“I gathered as much,” Claire smiled, searching the kitchen counter for the scissors Locke had sharpened that morning. “Not many guys I know would let their hair get as long as yours just for something to do.”
“Aw, you don’t like my hair?” He grinned at her, dimples and all. Maybe if he charmed her she’d put those damned scissors down.
“Like it fine,” she said, turning his head back around, “but I like to see that smile better.”
“It’s getting too long, James.”
“No, Ma, it ain’t.”
“You know the rule: when I can’t see your eyebrows!”
“They’re right there! I swear!”
“Fair enough,” he muttered. He heard her snipping at the hair at the nape of his neck, felt it fall onto his bare back. It itched and he felt like he was trapped back in Hershey’s Barbershop on 6th Street all over again. He sunk low in the chair, squirming and scratching his back. Claire’s hand grabbed his good shoulder.
“Sawyer! Stop moving!”
“Damnit, James, would you hold still?”
“He’s gonna cut it too short, Daddy!”
“Do I have to hold you down, boy?”
“I’m holding still!”
“Sawyer, I swear, you’re worse than Aaron sometimes. He doesn’t move this much when I go to change his nappies.” Claire raised the scissors again but Sawyer turned in his seat.
“How is the little screamer?” he asked, hoping his voice carried enough interest to distract her.
“He’s fine,” she shrugged, then smiled. “Adorable. I think he may have missed his bedtime stories.”
“Truck ads count as bedtime stories?”
“They do on Craphole Island,” Claire said, spinning Sawyer back around. He groaned and started squirming again. “Sorry, Sawyer, can’t distract me that easily. It’s just a haircut!”
“I’m ‘bout done.”
“It’s a damned buzzcut, Billy!”
“James Lee Ford! You watch your mouth, boy, or so help me God -”
“You promised he wouldn’t cut it short, Daddy! An’ look what he’s done!”
“Just about done,” Claire said, and he imagined the look of concentration on her face, eyes squinting, biting her tongue.
“It looks fine!”
“I don’t got any hair left, Ma!”
“There!” Claire spun the desk chair around and whipped the towel from his neck. “Go on, take a look.”
“Soon as I’m old enough, I’m never cuttin’ my hair again!”
Sawyer looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom; he was tanner than he remembered, but his face was sickly and his shoulder was redder than it should be. He shook his head, freeing all the cut hairs and they rained down, making him itch again. He shrugged. Mamacita didn’t do such a bad job. Looked like he did when they crashed. Not too short.
Not long enough either.