what the hell am I doing?
Title: Stargazing
Summary: Neither of them had romantic prospects on the island; they had that in common.
Disclaimer: Lost belongs to ABC, etc., not to me. No infringement intended by this use.
Summary: Neither of them had romantic prospects on the island; they had that in common.
Rating: R, for language and mild slashiness.
A/N: Written both for khohen1, who wanted Hurley/Sawyer (okay, she said Hurley and Sawyer, not H/S, whatever) and for this week's lostfichallenge, which was to use the quote "There's no such thing as miracles."
Stargazing
by eponine119
July 25, 2005
There was just something about him. Maybe it was the straight hair falling in his eyes. Maybe it was the way he could go from looking like a snarling beast to a dude who belonged on the novelas in three seconds flat. Maybe it was something else entirely, or nothing at all, or just this mood Hurley'd been in for what seemed like days.
They were sitting there, alone together on the beach. Their turn to tend the signal fire while everyone else was curled up cozy in the caves. Not that that mattered so much. Even if it was someone else's turn to sit out here, the two of them would be alone.
"Dude, you ever get sick of it?" Hurley asked, raising his voice slightly to bridge the distance between them. Sawyer was sprawled out on the other side of the crackling fire, head thrown back, stargazing.
"Sick a what?" Sawyer asked.
"Knowing…" he cut himself off. Too raw to say aloud. "You ever get lonely here?"
His shoulders flexed and his head went back a little further. "Reckon so."
"I mean, it's like…everybody's got somebody. Charlie's got Claire. Jack's got Kate. You'n me, we're like the only two. Me, cause, well…and you, cause, well…"
"Me cause well what?" Sawyer snapped, sitting up. The shadows played darkly over the planes of his face.
"It's not that you're not hot," Hurley backtracked and found himself on a slippery slope. "It's just…the personality thing."
"What personality thing?"
"Yeah…you know. You call people names, dude. Steal stuff from dead people. That's not cool."
"You trying to give me advice there, So-" He broke off, shaking his head. Catching himself in the act. Trying.
"I mean, it's a deserted island," Hurley said. "Gotta figure people are as desperate as they're ever gonna be."
"That how you like 'em?" Sawyer demanded. "Desperate?"
Hurley looked away. Should have known better than to try to talk to him about this. Sawyer, of all people. Of course he had no idea what it was like. They were like opposites. Sawyer was all brawn and Hurley was all personality, and while Hurley thought that put them on equal footing here, it didn't. All he had to do was flash those dimples, quit being an asshole for a minute and a half, and he'd have everything Hurley ever wanted.
"Just wait," Sawyer sighed. "She'll come around."
"Who?" Hurley asked.
"Whichever one of those soft little ladies got you in such a snippy mood tonight," Sawyer elaborated. "Hell, you're a nice guy, aintcha? Prob'ly the nicest damn guy on the island. The rest of it don't matter."
"Easy for you to say," Hurley said, uncharacteristic bitterness leaking into his tone. "What's it like?"
"What's what like?" Sawyer snapped, and glared at him. "We all got our baggage, boy. Mine's at least as heavy as what you're carryin' around." He let out a long, rough sigh. "Quit feelin' sorry for yourself, it ain't like you got nothing to offer."
"Yeah," Hurley said. What was inside. It's what's inside that counts, so his mom used to tell him. But even she got over it, started watching everything he put in his mouth, everything that went inside, making him feel that silent shame. Even his mom couldn't love him unconditionally.
"You fishin' for compliments?" Sawyer asked, and he rolled over onto his stomach, propping his head up on one hand while he stared at Hurley through the firelight. Hurley shook his head. "Who is it?"
"Who's what?" Hurley asked. Wishing he'd left well enough alone instead of trying to find some common ground between them. They could have sat in silence all night.
"The pretty little thing you got your eye on. Who is it?" Sawyer asked.
Hurley shook his head. "Doesn't matter."
"Gimme a hint," Sawyer requested. "I can keep a secret." Hurley shook his head. "Now I'm gonna be wondering about it all night. Driving me crazy, trying to figure it out." He scrabbled his feet against the sand, like a little kid who wasn't getting his way. "Come on. One thing."
"I like blonds," Hurley said. Seemed safe enough.
Sawyer whooped and dropped his head between his shoulders. "I knew it!"
"What about you? What's your type?" Hurley asked.
Sawyer picked his head up and met his eyes. "Tall, dark and handsome. Not unlike yourself." He clicked his tongue and winked, the gesture so broad it was meant as comedy.
"You flirting with me, man?" Hurley asked, defensive.
"Nah," Sawyer said, and rolled onto his back. Like a dog rolling around in the sand, putting his belly up to be petted. "Maybe." Sawyer rubbed his own stomach. "What're you gonna do about it?"
"Dude. Come on."
"You're the one who brought it up. Couple'a desperate guys with no prospects, all alone on a deserted island? What's the harm?"
"It's wrong."
"Says who?"
"God," Hurley said, in a low voice.
Sawyer snickered and sat up. "You really believe that stuff?"
Hurley shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "You really okay with it? Or you just gonna turn this against me when we get back? Think up with a couple more names to call me?" He already knew what they'd be, too.
He watched Sawyer's throat work, his nose wrinkle as he shook his head. Hair tumbling down into his eyes, that barrier that protected him from the world. "God doesn't give a shit what we do," he said.
"I'm not so sure," Hurley said.
"Turned his back on me a long time ago," Sawyer said softly. "People get hurt, God looks the other way. Be a hell of a thing if God took an interest in things that don't hurt nobody."
"What're you trying to say?" Hurley asked. Feeling breathless, his heart in his throat. Because it sounded like…
"Why not," Sawyer said, low.
"Because there's no such thing as miracles," Hurley answered. Serious.
But when he raised his eyes from the fire, Sawyer was standing over him. Hurley almost turned away, thinking this was just a joke gone too far. But Sawyer crouched down, sinking to his knees in the sand in front of Hurley. Eyes soft and eager and seductive. "This isn't --" Sawyer began, but trailed off. "Do you…?"
"Yeah," Hurley breathed. He wanted it. Didn't understand, couldn't fathom why Sawyer was here, close enough that Hurley now knew his hair smelled like salt and smoke from the fire, that his eyes were clear and pale.
Sawyer kissed him. His lips were gentle and yielding and curious. Hurley felt something stir to life within his chest as he closed his eyes, kissing Sawyer back, raising one hand and dragging his fingers through that straight, golden hair he'd had so many stupid fantasies about touching.
Sawyer broke the kiss, just as gently, pulling away with a slight gasp before it went too far. He smiled, catching Hurley's eyes, then sat back. "There ain't nothing wrong with you," he said.
Hurley's stomach ached, knowing this was the part where it all went wrong. He thought he'd been so close but he'd never been farther away.
"So who's your unrequited crush on?" Sawyer asked, stretching out, ankles loosely crossed. There was still something slightly heavy and sensual around his eyes, the only thing betraying the fact there'd been a kiss at all. "Charlie, am I right?" He rubbed his lips against each other, considering it. "Good news, kemosabe, cause I'm pretty sure the little rock star goes both ways."
Hurley didn't nod, didn't say anything, didn't agree. But didn't protest either. Even after all this, Sawyer still didn't get it. Hurley didn't have the strength to watch the change that'd come over Sawyer if he confessed the truth. It would actually hurt more now.
No, there was no such thing as miracles, Hurley thought, glancing up at the stars that had recaptured Sawyer's attention. No such thing at all.
End.
Summary: Neither of them had romantic prospects on the island; they had that in common.
Disclaimer: Lost belongs to ABC, etc., not to me. No infringement intended by this use.
Summary: Neither of them had romantic prospects on the island; they had that in common.
Rating: R, for language and mild slashiness.
A/N: Written both for khohen1, who wanted Hurley/Sawyer (okay, she said Hurley and Sawyer, not H/S, whatever) and for this week's lostfichallenge, which was to use the quote "There's no such thing as miracles."
Stargazing
by eponine119
July 25, 2005
There was just something about him. Maybe it was the straight hair falling in his eyes. Maybe it was the way he could go from looking like a snarling beast to a dude who belonged on the novelas in three seconds flat. Maybe it was something else entirely, or nothing at all, or just this mood Hurley'd been in for what seemed like days.
They were sitting there, alone together on the beach. Their turn to tend the signal fire while everyone else was curled up cozy in the caves. Not that that mattered so much. Even if it was someone else's turn to sit out here, the two of them would be alone.
"Dude, you ever get sick of it?" Hurley asked, raising his voice slightly to bridge the distance between them. Sawyer was sprawled out on the other side of the crackling fire, head thrown back, stargazing.
"Sick a what?" Sawyer asked.
"Knowing…" he cut himself off. Too raw to say aloud. "You ever get lonely here?"
His shoulders flexed and his head went back a little further. "Reckon so."
"I mean, it's like…everybody's got somebody. Charlie's got Claire. Jack's got Kate. You'n me, we're like the only two. Me, cause, well…and you, cause, well…"
"Me cause well what?" Sawyer snapped, sitting up. The shadows played darkly over the planes of his face.
"It's not that you're not hot," Hurley backtracked and found himself on a slippery slope. "It's just…the personality thing."
"What personality thing?"
"Yeah…you know. You call people names, dude. Steal stuff from dead people. That's not cool."
"You trying to give me advice there, So-" He broke off, shaking his head. Catching himself in the act. Trying.
"I mean, it's a deserted island," Hurley said. "Gotta figure people are as desperate as they're ever gonna be."
"That how you like 'em?" Sawyer demanded. "Desperate?"
Hurley looked away. Should have known better than to try to talk to him about this. Sawyer, of all people. Of course he had no idea what it was like. They were like opposites. Sawyer was all brawn and Hurley was all personality, and while Hurley thought that put them on equal footing here, it didn't. All he had to do was flash those dimples, quit being an asshole for a minute and a half, and he'd have everything Hurley ever wanted.
"Just wait," Sawyer sighed. "She'll come around."
"Who?" Hurley asked.
"Whichever one of those soft little ladies got you in such a snippy mood tonight," Sawyer elaborated. "Hell, you're a nice guy, aintcha? Prob'ly the nicest damn guy on the island. The rest of it don't matter."
"Easy for you to say," Hurley said, uncharacteristic bitterness leaking into his tone. "What's it like?"
"What's what like?" Sawyer snapped, and glared at him. "We all got our baggage, boy. Mine's at least as heavy as what you're carryin' around." He let out a long, rough sigh. "Quit feelin' sorry for yourself, it ain't like you got nothing to offer."
"Yeah," Hurley said. What was inside. It's what's inside that counts, so his mom used to tell him. But even she got over it, started watching everything he put in his mouth, everything that went inside, making him feel that silent shame. Even his mom couldn't love him unconditionally.
"You fishin' for compliments?" Sawyer asked, and he rolled over onto his stomach, propping his head up on one hand while he stared at Hurley through the firelight. Hurley shook his head. "Who is it?"
"Who's what?" Hurley asked. Wishing he'd left well enough alone instead of trying to find some common ground between them. They could have sat in silence all night.
"The pretty little thing you got your eye on. Who is it?" Sawyer asked.
Hurley shook his head. "Doesn't matter."
"Gimme a hint," Sawyer requested. "I can keep a secret." Hurley shook his head. "Now I'm gonna be wondering about it all night. Driving me crazy, trying to figure it out." He scrabbled his feet against the sand, like a little kid who wasn't getting his way. "Come on. One thing."
"I like blonds," Hurley said. Seemed safe enough.
Sawyer whooped and dropped his head between his shoulders. "I knew it!"
"What about you? What's your type?" Hurley asked.
Sawyer picked his head up and met his eyes. "Tall, dark and handsome. Not unlike yourself." He clicked his tongue and winked, the gesture so broad it was meant as comedy.
"You flirting with me, man?" Hurley asked, defensive.
"Nah," Sawyer said, and rolled onto his back. Like a dog rolling around in the sand, putting his belly up to be petted. "Maybe." Sawyer rubbed his own stomach. "What're you gonna do about it?"
"Dude. Come on."
"You're the one who brought it up. Couple'a desperate guys with no prospects, all alone on a deserted island? What's the harm?"
"It's wrong."
"Says who?"
"God," Hurley said, in a low voice.
Sawyer snickered and sat up. "You really believe that stuff?"
Hurley shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "You really okay with it? Or you just gonna turn this against me when we get back? Think up with a couple more names to call me?" He already knew what they'd be, too.
He watched Sawyer's throat work, his nose wrinkle as he shook his head. Hair tumbling down into his eyes, that barrier that protected him from the world. "God doesn't give a shit what we do," he said.
"I'm not so sure," Hurley said.
"Turned his back on me a long time ago," Sawyer said softly. "People get hurt, God looks the other way. Be a hell of a thing if God took an interest in things that don't hurt nobody."
"What're you trying to say?" Hurley asked. Feeling breathless, his heart in his throat. Because it sounded like…
"Why not," Sawyer said, low.
"Because there's no such thing as miracles," Hurley answered. Serious.
But when he raised his eyes from the fire, Sawyer was standing over him. Hurley almost turned away, thinking this was just a joke gone too far. But Sawyer crouched down, sinking to his knees in the sand in front of Hurley. Eyes soft and eager and seductive. "This isn't --" Sawyer began, but trailed off. "Do you…?"
"Yeah," Hurley breathed. He wanted it. Didn't understand, couldn't fathom why Sawyer was here, close enough that Hurley now knew his hair smelled like salt and smoke from the fire, that his eyes were clear and pale.
Sawyer kissed him. His lips were gentle and yielding and curious. Hurley felt something stir to life within his chest as he closed his eyes, kissing Sawyer back, raising one hand and dragging his fingers through that straight, golden hair he'd had so many stupid fantasies about touching.
Sawyer broke the kiss, just as gently, pulling away with a slight gasp before it went too far. He smiled, catching Hurley's eyes, then sat back. "There ain't nothing wrong with you," he said.
Hurley's stomach ached, knowing this was the part where it all went wrong. He thought he'd been so close but he'd never been farther away.
"So who's your unrequited crush on?" Sawyer asked, stretching out, ankles loosely crossed. There was still something slightly heavy and sensual around his eyes, the only thing betraying the fact there'd been a kiss at all. "Charlie, am I right?" He rubbed his lips against each other, considering it. "Good news, kemosabe, cause I'm pretty sure the little rock star goes both ways."
Hurley didn't nod, didn't say anything, didn't agree. But didn't protest either. Even after all this, Sawyer still didn't get it. Hurley didn't have the strength to watch the change that'd come over Sawyer if he confessed the truth. It would actually hurt more now.
No, there was no such thing as miracles, Hurley thought, glancing up at the stars that had recaptured Sawyer's attention. No such thing at all.
End.