Lost fic: Vieux Carre * Part V [Jack/Sawyer, historical AU]
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
Summary: Anytime and anywhere, they are who they are. Historical AU.
This part: NC17, 1575 words
One Two Three Four
Vieux Carre
by eponine119
Chapter 5
Sawyer had decided to resume his normal life. The bruises healed and he went about his routines. Reading lazily in the sunshine, drinking perhaps more than usual in the evenings, the pendulum swinging wildly between broke and flush. There was a couple he had his eye on, and he was almost ready to make his move. All he had left was to gauge how they would react to being conned; once that was done, he could take them.
He told himself it would be pointless to stalk the long blocks to the neighborhood where Jack's mother lived, because surely by now Jack had returned to his isolate home on the river. He told himself his life was more than a meaningless repetition of days, but he'd always been good at seeing through liars.
"You're in love, you fool," Kate said, with high color in her cheeks. Humanity swirled busily around them, with live music and conversation and dance all packed into the tiny tavern.
Sawyer forced air through his nose like a bull cornered in the ring. "What would make you think such a damn stupid thing?" he challenged, pulling himself up straighter from where he'd slouched against the bar. Kate looked down her freckled nose at him. "Am not," Sawyer said, annoyed and exasperated. "What do you know about it anyway? You ever been in love?"
If he'd hoped to put her on the spot, it failed. She continued to fix him with her doubtful gaze. There was no possibility he'd shame her into admitting even the tiniest bit of liking for him. That was mutual. Their comfort with each other depended on it. And Sawyer would volunteer to be drawn and quartered before he willingly spoke one word to Kate about Jack.
"Full house tonight. Don't let me damper your trade," Sawyer said deliberately. He wanted her to get angry and walk away. Then the temptation to speak to her of anything important would be removed. He always marveled at the depths of her shame over the life she had chosen. At the same time, he understood it perfectly.
"At least I only spend an hour with them," she said, a dig at his elaborate plans and schemes. She got to her feet and downed the shot in front of her, closing her eyes as she swayed slightly. Sawyer put his hand on her hip to steady her, and she looked at him with eyes that had become unfocused. "I would've went up with you tonight," she said softly.
Having her looking at him this way hurt, because she deserved better. "I know," he said, fingers kneading the soft place where they'd settled. He couldn't save her. They both knew that. He smacked her on the ass and said, "Go earn your keep."
He could have lived with anger in her eyes as she walked away, but there was only pain and sadness there. Sawyer drew a deep breath and hunched down over the bar. With that look in her eyes, she wouldn't last long. She needed someone to save her.
Of course, she'd seen the same besotted look in his eyes when he thought of Jack. Falling in love made you careless, and worse yet, vulnerable. Falling in love got you killed. He swallowed another shot and when he set it back on the bar, his mind was made up. Tomorrow he'd go after his wealthy married lady, and take control of his own destiny again.
He stood to leave, eyes automatically sweeping the room. Kate seemed to have found herself a well-dressed man. Good for her, Sawyer thought, then paused in mid-step as recognition dawned.
Because it was Jack.
Not gone home to the safety of his empty house. Here, in the middle of Sawyer's dangerous life. Talking to Kate. Talking to Kate like a customer. The adrenaline coursing through his body made it impossible to separate his emotions -- excitement, fury, betrayal. He could walk over to them, but what then? Or he could watch Jack leave with Kate. Each choice was equally impossible, and Sawyer, who prided himself on his quick wit, remained frozen.
Jack glanced up and electricity shot through Sawyer's body, freeing him. He startled, guiltily, under Jack's dark eyes. Breathing fast and erratically, he put his head down and continued his walk toward the door. His pace accelerated once his feet touched the brickwork outside.
"Wait," Jack called after him.
He had nothing to fear and everything to prove. Sawyer stopped and turned, looking Jack full in the face, close enough to touch for the first time since the day they'd come together, the day Sawyer left. "What?" he snapped.
Jack curled like a page held too close to the fire. "I just…" He struggled for the words but failed to find them.
"What?" Sawyer asked, cruelly seductive and teasing this time. Jack blinked at him, and Sawyer could read the entire story in his face. He'd been looking for Sawyer, perhaps without admitting it to himself. And if he hadn't seen Sawyer, he would have purchased Kate's services, to prove something to himself. Sawyer reached out to touch him, to poke him or push him provocatively.
It was a mistake. All the defenses Sawyer so carefully cultivated crumbled. "God damn it," he breathed.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Can we get off the street?"
"Upstairs," Sawyer said, and stopped touching Jack. There was a moment when everything could have been different, but neither of them seized the opportunity. Jack followed Sawyer up to his room.
Sawyer saw the room through new eyes -- through Jack's eyes. Sawyer liked to pretend this room was shabbily chic, like an artist's garret. Now he saw the truth that even the dim light from the street couldn't hide. It was a ruin, with scuffed wood floors, loose bricks in the walls, and worn, secondhand furniture. It was nothing like Jack's house. It looked like the sort of place a man like Sawyer should live.
Jack wasn't looking at the room. He stared at Sawyer like he'd never expected to see him again. His eyes were darker than the shadows in the corners of the room. "Why?" he asked.
Sawyer's shoulders rolled in a shrug. The one was still stiff where he'd been shot. Jack saw, and approached him, those long fingers dragging at the fabric of his shirt. "It's better," Sawyer said, not quite a protest. All he had to do was pick his head up. Jack was right there, so near he could feel his breath. Sawyer closed his eyes, holding himself perfectly still.
Jack's hands moved into his hair. Sawyer shuddered at the delicious feeling of fingers moving swirling against his scalp. Jack's fingers tangled and pulled, making Sawyer look at him. Sawyer widened his eyes, a warning that went unheeded. Jack's lips touched his, cool and soft and gentle.
It summoned something hot and destructive inside Sawyer, angry at Jack. Angry for Jack, pursuing the man who'd walked away. Sawyer tried to say no, but all that came out was a low, gruff moan as he turned the kiss hard and demanding. He pushed Jack down on his bed and crawled on top of him, pinning him there, waiting for him to fight.
But Jack didn't fight. He sighed and dragged those gentle fingers through Sawyer's hair again, like he knew that was the one way to tame him. He unbuttoned Sawyer's shirt and pushed it aside, pressing his lips to the ragged scar marking his shoulder. Sawyer shoved his hand down inside of Jack's trousers, savoring his gasp and the way hard flesh rose to meet his touch.
It was a battle of wills he was determined to win, and he saw now this was the way. He twisted, moving down the mattress. Jack sat halfway up, but as Sawyer's mouth engulfed him, he sank back against the pillow. His legs trembled and his hands stretched, seeking something to ground him. Sawyer met them with his own, palm to palm, fingers entwined. Jack's hands clutched as his hips moved, forcing himself deeper into Sawyer's mouth. They groaned together, then Sawyer withdrew, just for a moment long enough for Jack's eyes to open. Then he went down again, swirling his tongue along the sensitive head of Jack's cock, teasing Jack until he could stand it no more and his seed flowed down Sawyer's throat.
Jack's hands tightened against Sawyer's. "Why?" he asked.
"Why what?" Sawyer demanded. Jack was supposed to go to sleep, not force him into a conversation.
"Just why." Quietly.
"It's what you wanted," Sawyer said. The response to any question. He ran his tongue over his lips. "Best for all involved."
"You could have stayed." The bold accusation betraying what had hurt Jack the most.
Sawyer sighed. "You don't know me at all, doc." He stretched out on the bed beside him, lying on his back, so close he ached but with no contact between them. He bent one arm beneath his head and waited for the attack. When it didn't come, he pushed harder. "You know why I was there. Same reason you come lookin' for me tonight. I was just the stronger, cause I walked away."
"That doesn't make you strong, that makes you afraid." Jack had risen on one elbow to look Sawyer in the face.
Sawyer had to close his eyes to shut him out. Maybe Jack did know him after all.
end of Chapter 5
Summary: Anytime and anywhere, they are who they are. Historical AU.
This part: NC17, 1575 words
One Two Three Four
Vieux Carre
by eponine119
Chapter 5
Sawyer had decided to resume his normal life. The bruises healed and he went about his routines. Reading lazily in the sunshine, drinking perhaps more than usual in the evenings, the pendulum swinging wildly between broke and flush. There was a couple he had his eye on, and he was almost ready to make his move. All he had left was to gauge how they would react to being conned; once that was done, he could take them.
He told himself it would be pointless to stalk the long blocks to the neighborhood where Jack's mother lived, because surely by now Jack had returned to his isolate home on the river. He told himself his life was more than a meaningless repetition of days, but he'd always been good at seeing through liars.
"You're in love, you fool," Kate said, with high color in her cheeks. Humanity swirled busily around them, with live music and conversation and dance all packed into the tiny tavern.
Sawyer forced air through his nose like a bull cornered in the ring. "What would make you think such a damn stupid thing?" he challenged, pulling himself up straighter from where he'd slouched against the bar. Kate looked down her freckled nose at him. "Am not," Sawyer said, annoyed and exasperated. "What do you know about it anyway? You ever been in love?"
If he'd hoped to put her on the spot, it failed. She continued to fix him with her doubtful gaze. There was no possibility he'd shame her into admitting even the tiniest bit of liking for him. That was mutual. Their comfort with each other depended on it. And Sawyer would volunteer to be drawn and quartered before he willingly spoke one word to Kate about Jack.
"Full house tonight. Don't let me damper your trade," Sawyer said deliberately. He wanted her to get angry and walk away. Then the temptation to speak to her of anything important would be removed. He always marveled at the depths of her shame over the life she had chosen. At the same time, he understood it perfectly.
"At least I only spend an hour with them," she said, a dig at his elaborate plans and schemes. She got to her feet and downed the shot in front of her, closing her eyes as she swayed slightly. Sawyer put his hand on her hip to steady her, and she looked at him with eyes that had become unfocused. "I would've went up with you tonight," she said softly.
Having her looking at him this way hurt, because she deserved better. "I know," he said, fingers kneading the soft place where they'd settled. He couldn't save her. They both knew that. He smacked her on the ass and said, "Go earn your keep."
He could have lived with anger in her eyes as she walked away, but there was only pain and sadness there. Sawyer drew a deep breath and hunched down over the bar. With that look in her eyes, she wouldn't last long. She needed someone to save her.
Of course, she'd seen the same besotted look in his eyes when he thought of Jack. Falling in love made you careless, and worse yet, vulnerable. Falling in love got you killed. He swallowed another shot and when he set it back on the bar, his mind was made up. Tomorrow he'd go after his wealthy married lady, and take control of his own destiny again.
He stood to leave, eyes automatically sweeping the room. Kate seemed to have found herself a well-dressed man. Good for her, Sawyer thought, then paused in mid-step as recognition dawned.
Because it was Jack.
Not gone home to the safety of his empty house. Here, in the middle of Sawyer's dangerous life. Talking to Kate. Talking to Kate like a customer. The adrenaline coursing through his body made it impossible to separate his emotions -- excitement, fury, betrayal. He could walk over to them, but what then? Or he could watch Jack leave with Kate. Each choice was equally impossible, and Sawyer, who prided himself on his quick wit, remained frozen.
Jack glanced up and electricity shot through Sawyer's body, freeing him. He startled, guiltily, under Jack's dark eyes. Breathing fast and erratically, he put his head down and continued his walk toward the door. His pace accelerated once his feet touched the brickwork outside.
"Wait," Jack called after him.
He had nothing to fear and everything to prove. Sawyer stopped and turned, looking Jack full in the face, close enough to touch for the first time since the day they'd come together, the day Sawyer left. "What?" he snapped.
Jack curled like a page held too close to the fire. "I just…" He struggled for the words but failed to find them.
"What?" Sawyer asked, cruelly seductive and teasing this time. Jack blinked at him, and Sawyer could read the entire story in his face. He'd been looking for Sawyer, perhaps without admitting it to himself. And if he hadn't seen Sawyer, he would have purchased Kate's services, to prove something to himself. Sawyer reached out to touch him, to poke him or push him provocatively.
It was a mistake. All the defenses Sawyer so carefully cultivated crumbled. "God damn it," he breathed.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Can we get off the street?"
"Upstairs," Sawyer said, and stopped touching Jack. There was a moment when everything could have been different, but neither of them seized the opportunity. Jack followed Sawyer up to his room.
Sawyer saw the room through new eyes -- through Jack's eyes. Sawyer liked to pretend this room was shabbily chic, like an artist's garret. Now he saw the truth that even the dim light from the street couldn't hide. It was a ruin, with scuffed wood floors, loose bricks in the walls, and worn, secondhand furniture. It was nothing like Jack's house. It looked like the sort of place a man like Sawyer should live.
Jack wasn't looking at the room. He stared at Sawyer like he'd never expected to see him again. His eyes were darker than the shadows in the corners of the room. "Why?" he asked.
Sawyer's shoulders rolled in a shrug. The one was still stiff where he'd been shot. Jack saw, and approached him, those long fingers dragging at the fabric of his shirt. "It's better," Sawyer said, not quite a protest. All he had to do was pick his head up. Jack was right there, so near he could feel his breath. Sawyer closed his eyes, holding himself perfectly still.
Jack's hands moved into his hair. Sawyer shuddered at the delicious feeling of fingers moving swirling against his scalp. Jack's fingers tangled and pulled, making Sawyer look at him. Sawyer widened his eyes, a warning that went unheeded. Jack's lips touched his, cool and soft and gentle.
It summoned something hot and destructive inside Sawyer, angry at Jack. Angry for Jack, pursuing the man who'd walked away. Sawyer tried to say no, but all that came out was a low, gruff moan as he turned the kiss hard and demanding. He pushed Jack down on his bed and crawled on top of him, pinning him there, waiting for him to fight.
But Jack didn't fight. He sighed and dragged those gentle fingers through Sawyer's hair again, like he knew that was the one way to tame him. He unbuttoned Sawyer's shirt and pushed it aside, pressing his lips to the ragged scar marking his shoulder. Sawyer shoved his hand down inside of Jack's trousers, savoring his gasp and the way hard flesh rose to meet his touch.
It was a battle of wills he was determined to win, and he saw now this was the way. He twisted, moving down the mattress. Jack sat halfway up, but as Sawyer's mouth engulfed him, he sank back against the pillow. His legs trembled and his hands stretched, seeking something to ground him. Sawyer met them with his own, palm to palm, fingers entwined. Jack's hands clutched as his hips moved, forcing himself deeper into Sawyer's mouth. They groaned together, then Sawyer withdrew, just for a moment long enough for Jack's eyes to open. Then he went down again, swirling his tongue along the sensitive head of Jack's cock, teasing Jack until he could stand it no more and his seed flowed down Sawyer's throat.
Jack's hands tightened against Sawyer's. "Why?" he asked.
"Why what?" Sawyer demanded. Jack was supposed to go to sleep, not force him into a conversation.
"Just why." Quietly.
"It's what you wanted," Sawyer said. The response to any question. He ran his tongue over his lips. "Best for all involved."
"You could have stayed." The bold accusation betraying what had hurt Jack the most.
Sawyer sighed. "You don't know me at all, doc." He stretched out on the bed beside him, lying on his back, so close he ached but with no contact between them. He bent one arm beneath his head and waited for the attack. When it didn't come, he pushed harder. "You know why I was there. Same reason you come lookin' for me tonight. I was just the stronger, cause I walked away."
"That doesn't make you strong, that makes you afraid." Jack had risen on one elbow to look Sawyer in the face.
Sawyer had to close his eyes to shut him out. Maybe Jack did know him after all.
end of Chapter 5