Lost ficlet: Robin Hood (Jack/Shannon, post-island, R)
Title: Robin Hood
Pairing: Jack/Shannon.
Rating: R
Summary: Post-island. Jack and Shannon go to a carnival. Surprisingly serious, in some ways, but mostly flirty and comfy. 1000 words.
Note: For Lost Riffs at lostsquee, day 4, prompt: carnival.
Robin Hood
Shannon clings to his arm as she walks along, grasping his bicep, making him feel half foolish for having won her that ridiculous stuffed thing. Feats of skill and strength? No, not so much. The strength was in not sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her off somewhere to kiss her and touch her until she fell apart in his arms.
He has a fleeting thought that the milk bottle game perhaps brought out some hidden caveman tendencies in him, but he knows that he long ago faced whatever in him had been latently savage, there on the island. He was never really that uncivilized, certainly not with her. He'd circled around her for weeks, even if she would've preferred days, getting to know her and learning how to talk to her and get her to talk back, and it was entirely worth it. This was worth it-her clinging to his arm and feeling safe and loved and free. That's why he has the urge to stop and pin her to the railing at the tilt-a-whirl and kiss her until she can't breathe anymore, not that he does. He just watches her.
She happily plucks at her cotton candy as she tells some rambling story about something mischievous she did in high school, at a carnival just like this. She's described her whole life to him as an exercise in boredom, trying to find something to fill up the lonely spaces and unending days. For a while, he had been afraid to marry her, not because he didn't want to but because he'd seen too many bored doctors' wives. When they didn't fill up their days with men that weren't their husbands, they spent their days amassing things.
That would've been almost expected of them after the island, as a way to put those days of fear and want behind them. But that's not what Shannon has come to, and he's glad, because, in the end, it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with her own choices.
"So," she says, swinging her hip to knock against his playfully. "You think the hot shots in neuro will get out here and get their shoes muddy?"
"If it means showing off how much money they have, even if it's to give to charity, definitely."
She grins at him, and it widens steadily. "Admit it. You didn't think this could work."
"Could? Yes. Would…"
"I told you a long time ago that I'm a genius with turning a little money into a lot."
"I believed you."
"So you say. But, hey, Anita didn't believe me either. Lucky for both of you, I'm awfully persuasive when I want to be. And, now, look." She twirls around, smiling so openly it takes his breath away. Then she says, "Rich bastards getting absolutely hosed."
"You enjoy playing Robin Hood a little too much, Shan."
"Robin Hood?"
"Yeah. Steal from the rich, give to the poor."
"I guess," she says with a shrug, suddenly looking bashful. She has a tendency to do that when she's suddenly made aware of herself, made to think about who she really is. "That's what charity work always is, right?"
He nods. "I never did ask you what made you choose St. Michael's." She's been working with their outreach since long before they got married, since the time when she was living in L.A. on her Oceanic settlement, near enough to him but not too close. For a while, he'd thought she was running away, but now he understands: she was trying to figure out who and how to be, and she had to do that alone.
"Because you don't see me hanging out with smelly homeless guys?"
"Well…yeah. I've never really understood it."
"They chose me. I guess. I was going down there with a friend to drop off some shit I didn't want anymore, and it was just so…sad. And kinda familiar."
"Yeah," is all he can reply.
"Anyway, I helped them with lunch one day the next week, and not one person gave a shit about who I was. They didn't know I was Shannon Rutherford, bitch queen. They sure as hell didn't know I'd spent a few months on craphole island. I thought they should, somehow, like the real me was supposed to just shine through it all like a big tacky neon sign or something. But then I looked at what I was wearing and how I was acting and I realized I'm not that girl anymore."
"That girl wouldn’t have been Robin Hood?"
"Are you kidding? That girl wouldn't have even been stupid enough to fall for Robin Hood. Even when she was stealing from the rich, she wasn't exactly giving to the poor. This is like cosmic payback. What's funny is the money thing works almost exactly the same as it always did; it just all flows in a different direction. I really think I'm the best person to be doing this." Suddenly, she stops. "Now, can we stop being so fucking serious, Jack? I've only got another hour before I have to man the ticket booth, and I plan to make the most of it." She holds up the stuffed animal. "Look, a hot shot in neuro already won me a fuzzy little frog."
"I'm jealous," Jack says, pulling her into his arms.
"You should be. He was hot. Kinda awkward for a guy who makes his living with his hands, but.."
He makes a move to tickle her, but she twist out of his arms, floating along ahead of him, just out of his reach. She turns and smiles at him mischievously. "So, Dr. Shephard, ever put those hands of yours to good work with a girl on a ferris wheel?"
He lunges forward to grab her by hand, pulling her back and kissing her deeply, her mouth sticky and sweet with cotton candy. In fact, he has quite successfully fooled around on a ferris wheel before, but he won't tell her that. It was a whole different lifetime ago, the one before he met her.
~
Pairing: Jack/Shannon.
Rating: R
Summary: Post-island. Jack and Shannon go to a carnival. Surprisingly serious, in some ways, but mostly flirty and comfy. 1000 words.
Note: For Lost Riffs at lostsquee, day 4, prompt: carnival.
Robin Hood
Shannon clings to his arm as she walks along, grasping his bicep, making him feel half foolish for having won her that ridiculous stuffed thing. Feats of skill and strength? No, not so much. The strength was in not sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her off somewhere to kiss her and touch her until she fell apart in his arms.
He has a fleeting thought that the milk bottle game perhaps brought out some hidden caveman tendencies in him, but he knows that he long ago faced whatever in him had been latently savage, there on the island. He was never really that uncivilized, certainly not with her. He'd circled around her for weeks, even if she would've preferred days, getting to know her and learning how to talk to her and get her to talk back, and it was entirely worth it. This was worth it-her clinging to his arm and feeling safe and loved and free. That's why he has the urge to stop and pin her to the railing at the tilt-a-whirl and kiss her until she can't breathe anymore, not that he does. He just watches her.
She happily plucks at her cotton candy as she tells some rambling story about something mischievous she did in high school, at a carnival just like this. She's described her whole life to him as an exercise in boredom, trying to find something to fill up the lonely spaces and unending days. For a while, he had been afraid to marry her, not because he didn't want to but because he'd seen too many bored doctors' wives. When they didn't fill up their days with men that weren't their husbands, they spent their days amassing things.
That would've been almost expected of them after the island, as a way to put those days of fear and want behind them. But that's not what Shannon has come to, and he's glad, because, in the end, it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with her own choices.
"So," she says, swinging her hip to knock against his playfully. "You think the hot shots in neuro will get out here and get their shoes muddy?"
"If it means showing off how much money they have, even if it's to give to charity, definitely."
She grins at him, and it widens steadily. "Admit it. You didn't think this could work."
"Could? Yes. Would…"
"I told you a long time ago that I'm a genius with turning a little money into a lot."
"I believed you."
"So you say. But, hey, Anita didn't believe me either. Lucky for both of you, I'm awfully persuasive when I want to be. And, now, look." She twirls around, smiling so openly it takes his breath away. Then she says, "Rich bastards getting absolutely hosed."
"You enjoy playing Robin Hood a little too much, Shan."
"Robin Hood?"
"Yeah. Steal from the rich, give to the poor."
"I guess," she says with a shrug, suddenly looking bashful. She has a tendency to do that when she's suddenly made aware of herself, made to think about who she really is. "That's what charity work always is, right?"
He nods. "I never did ask you what made you choose St. Michael's." She's been working with their outreach since long before they got married, since the time when she was living in L.A. on her Oceanic settlement, near enough to him but not too close. For a while, he'd thought she was running away, but now he understands: she was trying to figure out who and how to be, and she had to do that alone.
"Because you don't see me hanging out with smelly homeless guys?"
"Well…yeah. I've never really understood it."
"They chose me. I guess. I was going down there with a friend to drop off some shit I didn't want anymore, and it was just so…sad. And kinda familiar."
"Yeah," is all he can reply.
"Anyway, I helped them with lunch one day the next week, and not one person gave a shit about who I was. They didn't know I was Shannon Rutherford, bitch queen. They sure as hell didn't know I'd spent a few months on craphole island. I thought they should, somehow, like the real me was supposed to just shine through it all like a big tacky neon sign or something. But then I looked at what I was wearing and how I was acting and I realized I'm not that girl anymore."
"That girl wouldn’t have been Robin Hood?"
"Are you kidding? That girl wouldn't have even been stupid enough to fall for Robin Hood. Even when she was stealing from the rich, she wasn't exactly giving to the poor. This is like cosmic payback. What's funny is the money thing works almost exactly the same as it always did; it just all flows in a different direction. I really think I'm the best person to be doing this." Suddenly, she stops. "Now, can we stop being so fucking serious, Jack? I've only got another hour before I have to man the ticket booth, and I plan to make the most of it." She holds up the stuffed animal. "Look, a hot shot in neuro already won me a fuzzy little frog."
"I'm jealous," Jack says, pulling her into his arms.
"You should be. He was hot. Kinda awkward for a guy who makes his living with his hands, but.."
He makes a move to tickle her, but she twist out of his arms, floating along ahead of him, just out of his reach. She turns and smiles at him mischievously. "So, Dr. Shephard, ever put those hands of yours to good work with a girl on a ferris wheel?"
He lunges forward to grab her by hand, pulling her back and kissing her deeply, her mouth sticky and sweet with cotton candy. In fact, he has quite successfully fooled around on a ferris wheel before, but he won't tell her that. It was a whole different lifetime ago, the one before he met her.
~