Lazy Sunday - Continued...
The sun is no longer assaulting the bedroom when Sawyer wakes up next, twined up in clean sheets and his arm slung over Jack’s waist. He had expected for Jack to be sound asleep next to him but instead he is sitting up, the World News section of the Toronto Star in his hands and the rest of the paper in his lap. Sawyer withdraws his hand and sits up, alerting Jack to the fact he’s awake.
“Hey,” he greets him, smiling gently. Sawyer takes a look past him and sees a mug of coffee on the night stand next to a stack of mail and a pile of paperwork from the hospital. The clock reads five-ten. He's been asleep for hours; Jack evidently has been quite busy in the meantime. Sawyer narrows his sleepy eyes at Jack.
“You doin’ work?” He asks through a yawn. Jack glances toward his stack of files and then back at Sawyer.
“I was…I’m just getting a jump start on some stuff for next week,” he explains and Sawyer scowls, leaning closer to him and catching the scent of fabric softener in the air.
“You did laundry.” Sawyer says this like it is the equivalent of bloody murder and his look for Jack is accusatory.
“You were asleep and I was awake…I had nothing else to do,” he defends himself but Sawyer isn’t buying it. Sawyer reaches across him, knocking the paper onto the floor and crinkling the section Jack has in his hands. “What’re you-“
“I’m showing you what normal people do when they have nothing to do,” Sawyer remarks as he picks up the remote control. He clicks on the television and let the remote fall into his lap. “They watch crap.”
“Sawyer-“
“Look, this doesn’t even require you to think.” He points to the television, where two girls and a guy are in a hot tub, both the girls trying to get the guy’s attention.
“I happen to like thinking.”
“Thinking’s all well and good, Doc,” Sawyer replies. “But you gotta give that brain o’ yours a fuckin’ rest already! You’re thinking 24/7. Turn it off for a bit.”
“Sawyer, how long have you known me now?”
“Almost three years.”
“Think about what you just said.” Jack fixes his gaze on Sawyer, waiting for him to realize how unrealistic the thought of Jack not thinking would be. Sawyer pauses for a moment and sighs, leaning back into the pillows and absently flicking the channel. Jack nods, knowing Sawyer gets it, and goes back to reading the paper.
“And people can’t change?” Sawyer asks after a minute and Jack lowers the paper into his lap, knowing they are suddenly in for a conversation.
“No, I don’t mean people can’t change, Sawyer, I just…there are some things that are so fundamental to a person that…” Jack trails off, not knowing what exactly he means.
“You’re sayin’ you can’t change.” Sawyer speaks for him, but then shakes his head. “That ain’t true.”
“I’m just never going to be very good at this, Sawyer.”
“This, what?”
“Relaxing. It’s not me.”
“Kate said the exact same thing about you once,” Sawyer remembers, smiling faintly. “Said she had to convince you it was okay to have fun.” Jack doesn’t smile, his eyes filling with a hint of sadness. He folds the paper in half and sets it on the nightstand.
“Sounds about right.”
“But I don’t think you’re hopeless. All you need’s some practice.” He reaches over and rubs Jack’s thigh in assurance. “Practice makes perfect and we can practice together. Every day if need be - I’m willin’ to make that sacrifice.”
“I can see how much that would pain you,” Jack teases but then grows solemn. “Speaking of Kate…” He turns and starts digging to the bottom of the stack of mail he’d brought up.
“We got mail today?” Sawyer inquires, puzzled, looking over Jack's shoulder as he sorts through, evidently looking for something in particular.
“No, you forgot to bring in yesterday’s,” Jack states turns back, handing Sawyer a postcard. “This came.”
“Ah,” Sawyer takes it gingerly and eyes the picture for a second, not sure what he should say. “She’s in Georgia, huh.”
“I guess so.” Jack watches Sawyer as he carefully reads Kate’s cramped scrawl, an expression of worry creasing his face. Jack’s not sure if it’s concern for Kate or over himself, knowing that Kate is still a tender point between the two of them. “She sounds like she’s doing okay.” He says reassuringly and Sawyer shrugs, dropping the card to his lap.
“Would she tell us if she weren’t?” He counters and Jack hesitates, frowning.
“Probably not.” Jack takes the postcard back from Sawyer and looks at it again; Sawyer sighs, knowing he’s gone and got Jack worried, second-guessing Kate’s short note.
“She’ll call soon. I’ll be able to tell when I hear her voice.” It’s Sawyer’s turn to reassure now. He’d promised Kate not to tell Jack about her phone calls, but he told Jack anyway. He is done keeping secrets from him; it's tough enough to let go of the old ones, piling new ones on top of them would only make life harder. She’d be calling soon, he was sure of it. A postcard to Jack, a short note that he can’t reply to, is always followed by the phone ringing while Jack’s at work, Kate’s voice on the other end of the line calling to check in and see how Jack is doing. Kate is predictable in that way.
Sawyer’s asked her every time why she just doesn’t call and talk to Jack but she says she can’t, that it hurts too much. Sawyer understands but he knows it hurts Jack that she won’t speak with him so he asks anyway, hoping to convince her to call him and finally say all the things she never said. She won’t.
“Tell her that we miss her, okay,” Jack says, his fingers bending the already worn edge of the postcard anxiously. Sawyer forces a smile at him. Jack always uses we now when he talks about Kate, trying to show Sawyer that whatever lingering emotion he has for Kate isn’t a threat to their relationship. Sawyer feels a pang of hurt and jealousy anyway; Kate will always have a part of Jack’s heart and he can’t pretend that doesn’t bother him. The feeling quickly fades though; Jack may worry for her and miss her, but having her back is not what he wants. He’s fine with her being in his past and every time she calls, Sawyer reminds himself of that.
“Course I’ll tell her,” Sawyer nods, holding Jack’s gaze for a moment and then turning back toward the television. He clicks on the guide and scans through the channels, looking for something to watch that doesn’t involve people eating bugs or competing for dates.
“What’s this?” Jack inquires when Sawyer selects something and Clint Eastwood, young, scruffy and squinting, flips on screen.
“The Good The Bad and the Ugly,” He replies and Jack doesn’t even look mildly interested. He shrugs and picks the newspaper back up, unfolding it and picking up where he left off. Sawyer shoots him an annoyed look. “What you got against Clint?”
“Nothing,” Jack says. “I don’t have much of an opinion about him at all, really.” Sawyer glances at the screen where Lee Van Cleef is staring ominously in close-up. It cuts to an even more extreme close-up of Clint’s harsh blue eyes as he stares back. Each man is refusing to back down, fingers twitching as they prepare to draw. “Though I do wonder why they call him Blondie in this when he has brown hair. Never made any sense to me.” Jack says this as if that’s reason enough to forget the picture entirely.
“You want to watch somethin’ else?” Sawyer offers and Jack shakes his head, his attention on the newspaper.
“Watch whatever you want to, Sawyer, it doesn’t matter to me.” Jack murmurs distractedly, his focus already on the next article. Sawyer leans over toward him, peering at what he is reading.
“You really want to read all that, Doc? ‘Cause I can sum it up for you real quick - the world’s goin’ to shit.”
“Well maybe I’d like to know each and every particular way the world is going to shit, Sawyer,” Jack retorts and Sawyer rolls his eyes and flips the station with a disgruntled huff.
“Now you’re just tryin’ to be a pain in the ass,” he mumbles. “What about Bullitt. You indifferent to McQueen too?”
“McQueen who.”
“Oh jesus.” Sawyer switches off the TV and tosses the remote halfway down the bed in frustration. “Is there anything you do like?”
“I like you fine,” Jack quips without looking up from the paper. Sawyer rolls his eyes again.
“I’m talking movies. When’s the last time you even saw a movie?”
“You made me go to that one a few months ago, remember?”
“What one?”
“I don’t know, it wasn’t worth remembering.” Sawyer chuckles at Jack as he turns the page of the paper.
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Just trying to give you a run for your money, Sawyer. You can’t be the impossible one all the time.”
“And why not?” Sawyer asks and Jack smiles.
“Sawyer, just gimme five minutes and let me finish this and then I’ll watch whatever you want me to watch, okay?” Jack makes the offer like he’s trying to reason with a small child and Sawyer reacts accordingly, letting out a small whine of annoyance and scowling. He lies silently beside Jack for awhile, staring at the ceiling and waiting patiently for Jack to give in and stop trying to be productive.
“Hey Jack.”
“Hmm?”
“Remember what happened the last time we went to the movies?”
“I think I fell asleep.” Jack says flatly. Sawyer pauses, his brow furrowing as he tries to figure out what Jack is talking about. That’s not the same memory he has.
“No, the time before that.” Jack looks at Sawyer now, raising his eyebrow. Sawyer grins, sliding his hand over Jack’s waist, dipping below the sheet. “When you said you were bored.”
“Oh, that…” Jack smiles, blushing a little. Sawyer grins wider.
“Yeah, that.” Sawyer winks. “You had to have liked that movie at least.”
“I couldn’t even begin to tell you a thing about it, Sawyer,” Jack replies and Sawyer lets his hand slide down Jack’s naked body, his fingertips brushing over the base of his cock.
“Then I musta done something right.” Sawyer slides his hand down between Jack’s legs and squeezes his balls gently. Jack shifts, a surge of arousal going through him, but reaches down and wraps his hand around Sawyer’s wrist, pulling him away. “What?”
“Not right now, Sawyer. Dinner’s gonna be here soon.”
“Dinner?”
“I ordered in while you were sleeping.”
“You ordered in.”
“Well, you refuse to get out of bed and I don’t feel like cooking, so…” Jack shrugs. “It should be here in a little bit.”
“That’s plenty of time,” Sawyer states. Jack doesn’t relent when he reaches for him again so Sawyer lets it go, deciding to get Jack’s attention another way. “Fine, if that’s how you want it.”
Sawyer lays back and shoves the sheets off his body, taking his own dick in his hand and stroking himself purposefully, firmly. He lets out a tiny noise of satisfaction for Jack’s benefit but it doesn’t seem to garner any attention. Jack just keeps reading. He shifts slightly, causing the mattress springs to move and still apparently gets nothing, until Jack turns the page and says something.
“Are you serious, Sawyer? What are you, five years old?”
“I don’t exactly think this is the tendency of a five year old,” Sawyer retorts calmly, stroking himself again and looking down his body at his own hand on his dick, trying to imagine it’s Jack’s hand instead.
“I just meant the obvious plea for attention, not so much the way you’re choosing to do it,” Jack comments off-handedly, yet to so much as glance at Sawyer and what he’s doing. Sawyer rolls his eyes and pushes up into his hand, starting to feel himself harden in his grasp.
“Whatever works, Doc,” he murmurs. When Jack doesn’t reply, he tries something else. “You know what I’m thinking about?”
“I don’t know, Sawyer, what.”
“I’m thinking about that time on the stairs, after we went to that concert.”
“Which concert and which stairs?” Jack inquires and Sawyer can hear the smile in his voice, even if his face is still hidden by newsprint. It's a perfectly legitimate question; he'd have to narrow it down.
“I don’t remember which concert…the Hip I think, but the back stairs, here. I had my hand on you the whole way home, remember, stroking you hard through your denims, getting you back for that time you did it to me…” Sawyer slowly grins at the thought of it, his fingers pressing hard on Jack’s zipper, Jack begging him to stop. The car had been so dark, just the lights from the dashboard and the radio, the streetlights flashing by as they drove toward home. Something about being in the car with Jack always seemed intimate by nature, so close to one another, separated from the world speeding by outside by steel and glass and also by his lack of desire for absolutely anyone else. Everything and everyone could have disappeared and Sawyer probably wouldn’t have noticed, not with Jack gripping the wheel so tightly and biting his lip hard as his hips urged upward toward his palm.
When they got home Jack had tried to get him to the bedroom but had wound up taking him on the stairs, sprawled out with his jeans down around his ankles, Jack’s mouth eagerly sucking him off. Jack made him come so hard he accidentally threw his head back against the top stair and had a whopper of a bruise to show for it the next morning. Jack had turned him over then and used that big beautiful cock of his, the one Sawyer had turned rock hard on the drive home, to fuck him until his head spun, screaming Jack’s name as Jack’s perfect hand pumped him furiously, making him come again all over the hardwood steps.
“You remember it, Doc?” Sawyer asks, breathless now as the memory makes his dick turn as hard as steel against his palm. “Fuck, you felt so damn good inside me, I could feel you there all the next day…” He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes as he had lost himself in the past and now he forces them open, twisting his head to look at Jack. Jack looks like he may as well be alone in the bedroom, completely unbothered by Sawyer’s movements beside him. “Jack, please,” Sawyer sighs between gasps, exasperated.
“I’m ignoring you on principle,” Jack states, his voice wavering just enough to make Sawyer positive that Jack is barely keeping his veneer of calm steady and that it would take very little to make him drop the act.
“Baby, you couldn’t ignore me if you tried,” Sawyer quips cockily and moves to straddle Jack’s thighs, pulling the paper from Jack’s hands. Jack levels his gaze at Sawyer and raises one eyebrow.
“You’re quoting The Breakfast Club now and you still expect me to be turned on?”
“You don’t know who Steve McQueen is but you know John Hughes by line?” Sawyer looks dismayed and disappointed.
“I had a girlfriend in med school who loved that movie and would watch the stupid thing constantly, wore the VHS out,” Jack explains. “It was a bitch when I was trying to study.”
“I bet. You gotta admit this is a better distraction.” Sawyer winks and holds his hard-on in the palm of his hand, on display for Jack to see. Jack takes one look at it and then fixes his eyes back on Sawyer’s face.
“I wasn’t kidding about the food. If that doorbell rings and we’re in the middle of something-“
“Then I’ll answer the door with a raging hard-on and you can stay up here in the sanctity of our bedroom and when I come back I’ll tell you how mortified the poor delivery guy was.” Sawyer replies, hooking his fingers underneath the edge of the sheet and beginning to inch it tentatively down Jack’s hips. “Or if he’s cute we can invite him on in, cue up the porn music.”
“I think he’d have to be delivering a pizza,” Jack responds, biting his lip slightly as Sawyer finishes pulling the blanket down, shifting off of him for a moment to throw it off Jack’s feet and leave him completely naked in front of him. “Too bad I ordered Mexican.”
“Oh well. Wouldn’t want to share you anyway.”
“You'll never have to, I’m all yours,” Jack replies somewhat sentimentally and Sawyer smirks.
“Sap.”
“Hey. You want me to look elsewhere? Because there was this guy at the gym the other day who wanted to take me out for coffee and-“
“What guy?” Sawyer sits back on his feet and stares at Jack, alarmed. Jack laughs.
“What, are you going to go beat him up?”
“Was it that guy, that yoga guy? That twenty-something year old yoga guy?” Sawyer demands. Jack doesn't tell him if he's right or not so he assumes he's correct. “I told you he was checking out your ass and you said I was bein’ paranoid. He asked you out?”
“Sawyer, I was only teasing.”
“Did the punk ask you out or not?”
“He did, but I told him I was with someone. No big deal.”
“Stupid asshole, he's seen me with you, what the hell did he think he was doing?” Sawyer looks so peeved that Jack has to take him seriously and he erases the laughter from his voice quickly.
“Hey.” He sits up straighter, propping himself up on his elbows, and looks down at Sawyer. “Do you think it matters if someone hit on me? Fifty people could ask me out and it wouldn’t make a difference. I’m not going anywhere.” Sawyer eyes him for a moment, realizing how quick he was to feel threatened and quickly retreating from the precipice of jealousy.
“You sure? Because yoga, you know…I bet he could bend any way you’d want him to,” Sawyer replies, clearly no longer worried over it, the panic fleeing as quickly as it came. He runs his hands up Jack’s strong thighs and flashes him a wicked smile.
“Yeah, I bet he could. But...I happen to like the way you bend.”
“Bend better than you do,” Sawyer taunts, easing Jack’s legs wider apart, bending his knees up and placing Jack’s feet on either side of his hips as he moves up the bed, closer to him. “Kid was probably just lookin’ for a sugar daddy, y’know.”
“Hey, watch it.” Jack thwaps Sawyer on the side of his head as Sawyer leans in to brush his lips over his. “I’m not old enough to be anyone’s sugar daddy quite yet.” He murmurs before Sawyer kisses him. Sawyer makes a noise of assent and nods before he sinks into the kiss, letting his tongue slip into Jack’s mouth. “And I bend just fine.”
“That you do.” Sawyer proves this by urging Jack’s legs up and over his shoulders, angling his hips upward. “Fuck, I want you so bad,” he curses more to himself than to Jack as Jack is exposed to him and Sawyer is overcome with the need to put his lips all over his quickly hardening length, to feel his balls heavy inside his mouth, to slide his tongue inside that tight entrance and fuck him with that slow shallow slide before plunging his cock deep inside and fucking him for real.
“That time on the stairs, Sawyer…” Jack starts, complying when Sawyer motions for him to hand him the tube of lubrication that they’ve left on the night table from last time.
“What about it?” Sawyer urges him on, twisting off the cap and squeezing the gel into his palm without taking his eyes off of Jack's face.
“I’ve never wanted anyone so fucking much…I wanted you in my mouth more than anything, more than that first meal we had when they rescued us. You tasted better than even that did.” Jack whimpers after he finishes his sentence, Sawyer having finished coating himself with liquid and his hand closing over Jack, slick and cold. “Oh god.” Jack exhales, his hips rocking upward into Sawyer's touch.
“Better than readin' the paper, ain't it?” Sawyer says with a low chuckle, his smile fading as he concentrates on moving his hand over Jack's cock, moving his hand just the way he knows Jack likes it. His palm slides easily over his thick length, spreading the slick wetness over every inch of the rosy skin, watching as it grows even darker, blood rushing downward to fill Jack's dick as he hardens even more in Sawyer's tight hold. “God damn you're beautiful,” he murmurs as a Jack's head begins to weep, a small pearly drop of come seeping from his tip.
Sawyer drops his head down and flicks his tongue out to gather the moisture and taste him; Jack's thighs quiver against his shoulders in anticipation, his muscles tightening. Sawyer ignores the rest of his cock and moves lower, letting his tongue sweep over the heavy weight of his balls, the tip of his tongue sliding between them and behind to seek the sensitive area there. Jack groans and hitches his hips toward Sawyer's face. Sawyer smiles against him at this sign of impatience.
“Five minutes ago you were telling me to wait until later, Doc,” Sawyer reminds him, pulling back for a moment. Jack stares down at him, too turned on to be annoyed.
“We didn't have time for this five minutes ago, Sawyer, much less...” Jack doesn't finish his thought, all coherency pushed from his brain when Sawyer wraps his hand back around his base and pumps him as his tongue delves back between his legs, sliding intimately against his entrance before sliding inside. Jack groans loudly and closes his eyes tight, throwing his head back against the pillow. The sound of it nearly makes Sawyer explode over the bed and he quickly reaches down and grabs his own cock, squeezing hard around it and pressing his thumb in the right place to stop himself from coming.
“Fuck,” he mumbles before burying his face between Jack's legs once more, delicately licking around him before plunging in, his tongue eagerly working him open. He matches the in and out with the up down of his hand, pushing in as he pulls, stretching Jack to the breaking point and then slowing down, not letting him go past it.
He pulls away and adjusts his position, watching Jack intently as he pushes his legs up, his shoulders rising higher as he moves up to align his cock with Jack's entrance. Jack's hard-on lays up against his stomach, as heavy as lead weight and so full he is practically bursting, his pre-come a faint white over the clear shine of the lube on his dick. His hips are angled up higher again now as Sawyer kneels there; Jack looks helpless and desperate laid out before him like this, completely at his mercy, needing Sawyer to grant his wish for fulfillment. Sawyer stares at him for a few moments without moving, taking in his broad chest as he heaves for breath, his long fingers tearing at the sheets beside his body as he tries to resist touching himself and finding release, the arch of his neck as his head leans against the pillow, twisting and turning to try and resist opening his eyes and looking at Sawyer.
“Jack,” Sawyer whispers, wanting to see him, wanting Jack to open his eyes and find him. Jack's dark eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he forces his eyes open and focuses on Sawyer's face; they look almost black, his pupils dilated wide with desire and hazy with overwhelming want.
“Fuck me,” Jack begs, though his voice is low and dangerous, more of a demand than a plea. Sawyer doesn't move to do so but instead runs his hand up Jack's inner thigh and brushes along the crease of his hip, gently teasing. “Oh god, Sawyer, please fuck me.” This time his voice breaks and Sawyer knows he's let go of his control, willing to let Sawyer do what he wants.
“You should hold on,” Sawyer jerks his head toward the headboard and Jack nods back, reaching behind his head and wrapping his fingers around the slats of the bed, gripping tightly. He lines himself up and pushes in just slightly, just letting the tip of his hard cock penetrate Jack, feeling his body close around him at the intrusion. He pulls back out and repeats the motion, this time brushing slightly upward and letting Jack feel him leaking against his skin, a faint trace of come hot and sticky between his legs. Then he pushes in again, this time a bit farther. He lets out a choked moan as Jack raises his body to meet him, trying to push him in faster and harder. “Just wait for it,” Sawyer whispers to him, running his hands over Jack's thighs and down toward his aching length, though he doesn't take him back in hand yet.
Slowly, painstakingly, Sawyer slides into Jack's body, feeling him tight and wet, clenching around him and pulling him in. Jack relaxes quickly, ready and willing for Sawyer to keep going and at a faster pace, but Sawyer slides out with equal deliberateness, watching Jack for every last minuscule reaction. He finds it, the flicker of exquisite lust on Jack's face when he's in a certain position, almost all the way in but not quite, a sensitive spot that is particular to Jack alone. Sawyer bites his lip and rocks his hips gently, pushing his cock directly against it. Jack's whole body shudders and his hard-on jolts like he's going to come.
“You feel it?” Sawyer asks him and Jack nods, his knuckles turning white as he holds the headboard. “You feel me inside you, Jack? You feel me hard, fucking you?”
“Sawyer...” Jack moans breathlessly as Sawyer continues making small motions with his hips, hitting against that spot every time. “Fuck...come on, Sawyer, just...I need you...”
Sawyer shifts then and starts moving deeper, each thrust pushing Jack's legs up higher, each move out bringing them back down. He's pounding into Jack's willing body now and the bed echoes their cries of ecstasy, creaking and squeaking, the headboard thumping against the wall as Sawyer rocks harder. Jack's fingers are getting knocked every time so Jack lets go, surprising Sawyer by pushing himself up onto one elbow and grabbing Sawyer by the back of the neck, pulling him down halfway to meet him in a desperate kiss.
Plunging his tongue into Jack's mouth, he pushes Jack's legs off his shoulders and lets them fall around his sides. Jack sits up straight and shifts closer, sitting on Sawyer's lap and putting his hands flat on Sawyer's shoulders.
The doorbell rings then, startling them but not causing them to stop. Jack rides Sawyer's cock, bobbing up and down as Sawyer thrusts upward and he pushes down, their hands groping wildly at one another's flesh.
“Fuck, the food's here,” Sawyer mumbles against Jack's kiss and Jack groans, grabbing Sawyer's hand and guiding it in between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around his cock. They groan and pant together, no longer coordinated enough to manage a kiss; Sawyer swallows Jack's moans and Jack takes his. Sawyer slides his hands down Jack's back and his fingers knead his ass, pressing him closer, trapping Jack's hard-on between their stomachs and letting the friction do the work.
Jack tugs on Sawyer's bottom lip with his teeth, nipping gently at his swollen mouth as his fingers rope through his hair, grabbing at the soft strands. The doorbell rings again and Jack swears under his breath, tugging sharply.
“Come on, baby, give it to me,” Sawyer begs him and lets his hand slide over Jack's ass to where his cock disappears into Jack's body. He rubs the palm of his hand where their bodies join, letting Jack feel his touch there before reaching for his own balls, giving himself a deliberate squeeze. Jack lets out a guttural moan, his body stilling as Sawyer pumps into him, filling him with heat. Then Jack is coming, explosively hard and groaning Sawyer's name so loudly that Sawyer is sure the delivery guy waiting on the front porch had to have heard it.
Jack's body, which had drawn so tightly around his cock that Sawyer had felt him like a vise, now relaxes and he kisses Sawyer gently, caressing the lip that he had dragged his teeth over so roughly. Sawyer kisses him back just as softly, his fingers drifting over the skin he had just clawed at in the throes of his mind-bending orgasm. The doorbell rings yet once more and Sawyer pulls away, kissing Jack once more and then carefully pushing Jack off of his lap, pulling out.
“I'll be right back,” He murmurs and grabs his boxers from the floor.
“Wallet's on the dresser,” Jack says, sounding worn out, and Sawyer crosses the room to find it, also picking up one of Jack's newly laundered t-shirts and wiping off his stomach on his way to the door. He tosses the used fabric into the hamper before slipping out into the hallway.
Sawyer catches the delivery guy a moment before he is getting back into his car to leave, earning a few amused looks from the teen and a supposedly knowing wink. Odds that the kid really knew what he was winking about were slim but Sawyer winked back anyway, wondering what would happen if he told the kid it wasn't a busty female up in his bedroom but a man, all sculpted muscle and strong hands. The pimpled teen would probably be mortified.
He enters their bedroom, holding the paper bag full of food and a couple of disposable items from the kitchen like a victorious soldier returning with the spoils of war. Jack is lying on the bed looking content but thoroughly wasted, his face covered with a sleepy smile. Sawyer sets the bag down on the empty side of the bed and sits down on the edge by Jack's hip, looking down at him with barely concealed admiration and love.
“Hey,” he says softly, setting his hand on Jack's bare hip.
“Hey...was there enough money?” He asks and Sawyer nods. “I don't think I can move. Don't think I want to move.”
“So don't.” Sawyer shrugs. “Didn't think there'd be a time today when I was the one outta bed and you were the one layin' there like this.” He lets his hand slide up Jack's arm and Jack's hand closes around his forearm, using Sawyer's body as leverage to make himself sit up. He glances toward the window, surprised to find it already dark outside.
“It feels like it's nine at night,” He states, yawning, then forces himself up from the bed. He stretches and Sawyer lets his eyes drift appreciatively over the body he'd just so thoroughly pleasured. Jack feels Sawyer's eyes on him and glances over at him. “What's wrong?”
“Ain't nothin' wrong. I just don't ever get sick a lookin',” Sawyer gives him a sly smile and Jack actually blushes modestly, as if Sawyer's cock hadn't just been inside him and he hadn't come screaming Sawyer's name. Jack goes to the dresser and pulls out a clean pair of underwear, slipping on boxer briefs. Sawyer frowns. “What, we ain't gonna have naked lunch?”
“It's dinnertime, Sawyer.”
“Yeah, but I ain't had nothin' to eat all day save that bagel you forced on me, so it's more like lunch.”
“Lunch, dinner, whatever it is, it's getting cold,” Jack nods toward the bag sitting on the bed and then heads for the door. “I'll be right back.” As Jack disappears into the bathroom to clean up, Sawyer pops the staple on the brown bag and pulls out the Styrofoam and aluminum containers, laying them out like a picnic over the bedspread.
Jack walks back in and goes to the dresser again, pulling out a pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. Sawyer scowls at him.
“Aren't you cold? I'm freezing,” Jack says in response to his glare. “I bumped up the heat though.”
“I think I'm still warm from having you all 'round me,” Sawyer grins and Jack rolls his eyes, pulling out one of his own shirts and tossing it to Sawyer.
“If I'm cold, you're colder.” Sawyer uncrumples the t-shirt and looks at the logo and pretends to be shocked by the logo he finds on it.
“The Bluejays? Jacko, you traitor.”
“I got it as a gift,” Jack shrugs and Sawyer slips it on over his head, then gestures toward the feast laid out before them.
“Sit yer ass down, compadre. You ordered a shit load of food here.”
“Figured we might be hungry.”
“Famished,” Sawyer smiles and pops the lid on an order of enchiladas, pausing to hand Jack the tortilla chips that he knows he loves. Jack hands him a plastic fork in return and then a paper plate and the two of them set about eating in comfortable silence which goes unbroken until Jack's cell phone rings, startling them both with its shrill ring. “Oh, don't get it.” Sawyer whines but Jack shakes his head.
“Could be the hospital, I can't-” He reaches for it but Sawyer grabs it first, holding it away from his grasp.
“The hospital can page you if they need you so bad. If they're just callin' with a stupid question regarding someone's report or some shit like that, it can wait until tomorrow.” Sawyer states but then glances down at the caller ID.
“Who is it?”
“Claire,” Sawyer replies and Jack reaches for it again, determined to answer now. Sawyer holds up his finger, signaling for Jack to stop. Jack grabs it anyway and flips it open, but doesn't manage to speak before Sawyer snatches it back.
“Hey! Come on.”
“Who wants to talk on the phone, Jack, really?” Sawyer laughs and Jack rolls his eyes.
“I bloody well do,” Charlie's voice comes out loudly from the phone and Jack shoots Sawyer a warning look. Sawyer gives in but instead of giving Jack the phone, takes the call himself.
“Well if it ain't Papa Bear - where's Mamacita?”
“She's right here,” Charlie says and Sawyer hears him say something to her, muffled and unclear, then he's back. “What are you doing answering Jack's cell?”
“I'm a regular rebel, stealin' his minutes,” Sawyer retorts. “Jack is in bed.”
“He's in bed? Bloody hell, did I screw up the time change again? I'm so sorry, mate. Claire, I thought you said-”
“Hey, hey, Charlie, don't get your knickers in a twist. It's only 5:30 here.”
“5:30. In the evening?” Charlie sounds disbelieving even though that's the time he thought it to be for them. “And Jack is...in bed?”
“Yep.”
“Claire, Jack's in bed.” Charlie repeats to his wife and Sawyer can hear her familiar sweet accented voice ring clear over the phone from the background.
“Jack's in bed? Is he sick?”
“Is Jack sick?” Charlie forwards Claire's question onward and Sawyer smiles, shaking his head.
“No, he ain't sick. Just takin' the day off.” Jack sighs and gestures futilely for Sawyer to just give him the phone and let him talk, but Sawyer doesn't let him have it. “He's been in bed all day.”
“You're a sodding liar,” Charlie replies and once again talks to Claire. “He's sayin' Jack's been in bed all day, taking it easy. Lazing about.”
“Jack?” Comes the stunned reply.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, he's sittin' in bed right now, eatin' dinner,” Sawyer tells Charlie, who scoffs.
“Jack. Is eating dinner in bed.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“That's bollocks.”
“It ain't, he's right here, want me to put him on?” Sawyer makes to give the phone to Jack, who reaches for it gratefully, but Charlie's voice stops Sawyer from handing it over.
“No, mate, I gotta see this to believe it. Does his phone have one of those cameras in it?”
“Jack, this thing got a camera on it?” He looks to Jack, who eyes him suspiciously.
“Yeah, why...”
“Gimme one sec, Charlie. I'll send it.” He hangs up and quickly aims the phone at Jack, clicking the button.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jack asks and Sawyer shakes his head.
“Nothing.” He pushes a few buttons and sends it on its way. Jack stares at him, annoyed.
“Did you just take a picture of me in bed.”
“Did no such thing.” Sawyer denies but his grin proves him a liar. Jack sighs but doesn't fight it, not wanting to know why in the world such a thing would be necessary.
“What did Charlie want?”
“Y' know, I have no idea. I kinda just hung up on him.” Sawyer doesn't seem too distressed over it. “He'll call back if it was important.”
“Remind me not to call you in a life and death situation,” Jack comments and Sawyer shrugs. He climbs back onto bed carefully and settles in next to Jack, who hands him his plate once again. Sawyer takes a bite and then grabs for the remote control which is twisted up in the sheets by his legs.
“Let's see if we got anything worth watching now.” The TV clicks on with an electronic buzz and Sawyer seeks upward quickly.
“How are you even seeing what's on?” Jack asks. “You're moving quick enough to cause an epileptic seizure.” Sawyer waves him off.
“Oh come on. These stations are all news this time of night. No news.” He adds quickly, knowing Jack would much rather watch that than anything else. “And no History Channel either.” Jack opens his mouth and Sawyer holds up his finger to shush him. “Or Discovery Channel.”
“What's wrong with-”
“No learning. Nothing of substance. Nothing important. If we have to we'll watch something with that annoying Kutcher kid, if that's what it takes.”
“If you stop on MTV, so help me god-”
“Oh, hush up and eat your food.” Sawyer keeps flicking through absently between bites of his meal. “All these channels and nothing's on,” he mutters.
“You could just turn it off.”
“I plan on hunkering down here all night, Doc, so's unless you want to go out there and rent somethin', I suggest we find somethin' to watch.” Jack sighs but reluctantly looks toward the television screen, trying to participate in Sawyer's search for entertainment. As he clicks through the channels at rapid fire pace, he thinks he sees something familiar.
“Hey, stop. Back up a couple of channels.” Sawyer looks at him in surprise and quickly backtracks, stopping on a movie channel that is playing Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.
“Jimmy Stewart. How am I not surprised.”
“What's wrong with him?”
“You really like this treacly Capra bullshit?” Sawyer inquires, seeming to be actually dismayed.
“Well, my dad and I used to watch this when I was little and-”
“Oh, your dad used to watch this?” This clears everything right up as far as Sawyer is concerned and he switches the channel pointedly. Jack raises his eyebrows at him. “Bet your pop made you watch Gary Cooper and all that shit too, huh, told you they were good role models.”
“Uh, Sawyer, I think the whole world pretty much agrees that Jimmy Stewart was a decent guy.”
“We've got to find ourselves some middle ground here, Doc.” Sawyer shakes his head like he's disappointed and takes another bite of his dinner before going back to searching. Suddenly Jack's phone rings again and before Sawyer can fight him on it, Jack picks it up.
“Dude, is this for real?”
“Hi, Hurley. How are you.” Jack greets him with a gentle laugh, wondering what has him so worked up.
“Seriously. Cause I'm lookin' at my phone right now and it still seems plenty warm out here, so I don't think hell froze over or nothin'.”
“Hurley, you've got to help me out here. What are you talking about?”
“I got this picture of you, supposedly being lazy. Is it for real? Because I bet Charlie five bucks it wasn't real.”
“Charlie sent it to you?” Jack gives Sawyer an irritated look but Sawyer simply grins, amused that the whole group is now interested in Jack's day off. Hurley doesn't reply. “Yeah, it's real. I'm actually sitting in bed right now.”
“Crap!”
“Hurley, you're a millionaire - what's the big deal about five bucks?”
“It's not the cash, dude, I just hate bein' wrong. Charlie never lets me forget it.”
“Well, I'm sorry.”
“You're positive you don't want to fess up and admit this is photoshopped.”
“Good-bye, Hurley,” Jack ends the call and then turns off the phone entirely, tossing it aside. “Okay, enough of that.” He turns his attention back to cutting up his food when Sawyer nudges him with his elbow, nodding his head toward the television.
“Okay. Indiana Jones.” He suggests and Jack sighs, knowing now better than ever that sometimes it's best just to let Sawyer have what he wants and go along for the ride.
“Yeah. Okay, fine.”
“Indy it is.” Sawyer grins and sets the remote down, shifting a bit closer to Jack and spearing a piece of Jack's dish with his fork. Jack pretends to be affronted as Sawyer pops it into his mouth.
“You do realize that we got exactly the same thing, Sawyer.” Jack states but Sawyer doesn't care.
“But it tastes better when it's yours.”
“Sawyer.”
“Yeah Doc.”
“Just watch the movie.”
END