Lost fic: Carrie [Sawyer, Juliet, PG]
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
Notes: Written for Queen babyfirefly, who said Sawyer/Juliet would be okay. Using for fanfic100 #98, writer's choice.
Summary: There's one thing they have in common.
Carrie
by eponine119
August 16, 2007
Juliet stands over him. He doesn't mind the shade, but it makes goosebumps rise at the back of his neck. He has the feeling she's not just here to make fun of his glasses. So he lifts his head and looks her in the eye. "What can I do you for?"
"Where did you get that?"
"This?" He makes a big show of holding out the book, then snatching it back. "Found it."
"That is my favorite book," she says.
He just looks at her, and after a minute she looks back like she doesn't understand why she's getting that look. "How can Carrie be anyone's favorite book?"
Her shoulders move. "It's my favorite book, Sawyer." She says it like they're in the midst of an argument. He likes that, her insistence hinting at exasperation.
"Was it, 'fore you landed here?" he asks.
She tilts her head slightly, like she doesn't understand this line of questioning at all.
He sticks his finger between the pages to hold his place and moves the book aside. "Favorite books are supposed to be…like…" He can't find the words, and that annoys him.
"Good?" she suggests, and all he can do is give her one of his most charming smiles. She sits down opposite him. Kneeling, not comfortable, not like she intends to stay and have a discussion, but acknowledging this is going to take a minute. "You don't think it's good?"
"I don't think it's favorite-book good." He likes this. Arguing. The others on the island, Kate, Jack, they've gotten used to him. Hell, he feels like he hasn't had a good argument in months. For a moment, he lets his imagination spiral. She looks like the kind of woman who'd hit, if you managed to crack open that ice cold shell to reveal the molten fire inside. He's thinking that might feel good, and he has to shift to relieve the ache it inspires.
"It's Stephen King's first book," she says. "Before he got commercial and ruined."
"Ruined?" Sawyer repeats, amused.
"The structure is exquisite," Juliet continues. "The back and forth, with the newspaper accounts, just enough detail to arouse suspense." He just watches her talk. "Have you noticed the way King uses language, inventing his own words and forms where convention fails him? I think that's the mark of a true literary genius. That's what raises him above the hack writer everyone thinks he is."
Sawyer nods, and she thinks she's won. "You still ain't told me why it's your favorite book." She opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. "Yeah, you told me all about it, as a book. But you never said a word about you."
She narrows her eyes at him. The sun shining on her hair makes it glow. "What do you care about me?"
"You started it," he says, moving the book back into his lap. "I was just sitting here, tryin' to read your favorite book."
"You think I like it because I relate to Carrie," Juliet says, her voice hard with accusation. Her eyes flick over to her shelter, which sits slightly away from their camp. "The outcast girl."
His smile turns smug and he can't help it. "No," he says, and watches the way she breathes deep when he reaches out to trace a little pattern on the back of her hand. "I know you relate to the bullies." He could kiss her now and it would be angry. He'd get to feel the way the tension melted away from her neck, cupped by his hand at the back of her head. "We all do. That's the power in it."
He knows by the look in her eyes that he's got her. Then she blinks, and it's gone. The Juliet mask is back, one corner of her mouth curling up as she challenges him. "Okay then, what's your favorite book?"
End.
Notes: Written for Queen babyfirefly, who said Sawyer/Juliet would be okay. Using for fanfic100 #98, writer's choice.
Summary: There's one thing they have in common.
Carrie
by eponine119
August 16, 2007
Juliet stands over him. He doesn't mind the shade, but it makes goosebumps rise at the back of his neck. He has the feeling she's not just here to make fun of his glasses. So he lifts his head and looks her in the eye. "What can I do you for?"
"Where did you get that?"
"This?" He makes a big show of holding out the book, then snatching it back. "Found it."
"That is my favorite book," she says.
He just looks at her, and after a minute she looks back like she doesn't understand why she's getting that look. "How can Carrie be anyone's favorite book?"
Her shoulders move. "It's my favorite book, Sawyer." She says it like they're in the midst of an argument. He likes that, her insistence hinting at exasperation.
"Was it, 'fore you landed here?" he asks.
She tilts her head slightly, like she doesn't understand this line of questioning at all.
He sticks his finger between the pages to hold his place and moves the book aside. "Favorite books are supposed to be…like…" He can't find the words, and that annoys him.
"Good?" she suggests, and all he can do is give her one of his most charming smiles. She sits down opposite him. Kneeling, not comfortable, not like she intends to stay and have a discussion, but acknowledging this is going to take a minute. "You don't think it's good?"
"I don't think it's favorite-book good." He likes this. Arguing. The others on the island, Kate, Jack, they've gotten used to him. Hell, he feels like he hasn't had a good argument in months. For a moment, he lets his imagination spiral. She looks like the kind of woman who'd hit, if you managed to crack open that ice cold shell to reveal the molten fire inside. He's thinking that might feel good, and he has to shift to relieve the ache it inspires.
"It's Stephen King's first book," she says. "Before he got commercial and ruined."
"Ruined?" Sawyer repeats, amused.
"The structure is exquisite," Juliet continues. "The back and forth, with the newspaper accounts, just enough detail to arouse suspense." He just watches her talk. "Have you noticed the way King uses language, inventing his own words and forms where convention fails him? I think that's the mark of a true literary genius. That's what raises him above the hack writer everyone thinks he is."
Sawyer nods, and she thinks she's won. "You still ain't told me why it's your favorite book." She opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. "Yeah, you told me all about it, as a book. But you never said a word about you."
She narrows her eyes at him. The sun shining on her hair makes it glow. "What do you care about me?"
"You started it," he says, moving the book back into his lap. "I was just sitting here, tryin' to read your favorite book."
"You think I like it because I relate to Carrie," Juliet says, her voice hard with accusation. Her eyes flick over to her shelter, which sits slightly away from their camp. "The outcast girl."
His smile turns smug and he can't help it. "No," he says, and watches the way she breathes deep when he reaches out to trace a little pattern on the back of her hand. "I know you relate to the bullies." He could kiss her now and it would be angry. He'd get to feel the way the tension melted away from her neck, cupped by his hand at the back of her head. "We all do. That's the power in it."
He knows by the look in her eyes that he's got her. Then she blinks, and it's gone. The Juliet mask is back, one corner of her mouth curling up as she challenges him. "Okay then, what's your favorite book?"
End.