Lost fic: Flying [Sawyer/Juliet, 1400 words]
Summary: He pretends he's not afraid of anything, but she knows better.
Flying
by eponine119
October 4, 2020
Juliet watches Sawyer drink in the airport bar.
He silently drains another glass of whiskey and lifts his fingers to signal to the bartender that he'd like one more. He turns slightly toward her and watches her watching him. She can tell from his eyes that he's had enough. It's the only way she'll get him down the jetway and onto the plane. She takes another sip from the rum and coke in front of her.
A few drops of whiskey cling to his lips and she thinks about kissing them away.
He pretends he's not afraid of anything, but she knows better.
…
He studies the safety card intently, holding it with hands that shake ever so slightly. He is the only person paying attention to the flight attendant's presentation on seat belts and oxygen masks. He even turns around to count the rows to the nearest exit, which is behind them.
He catches her watching him. “Fifteen,” he says, with a tight smile. The number of rows to the exit.
The engines rev and he presses his head against the back of the seat. His knuckles turn white where he grips the armrests. Juliet places her hand on top of his, and she feels him take a deep breath. He doesn't open his eyes, but he turns his hand over and she threads her fingers through his. He holds on tight as the plane hurtles itself into the sky. She squeezes back.
…
Sawyer turns the pages of his paperback rapidly, trying to concentrate. Every time the plane jounces over an air pocket, the bottom drops out of his stomach and he closes his eyes again. The fear is so strong, and so irrational. He hates letting Juliet see it, so he's relieved that she fell asleep, even though that means he's facing it alone.
She lies against him with her head heavy on his shoulder. He feels every breath and sigh of her warm body pressed into his. He's sweating despite the chill, but if he had an airline blanket, he'd drape it over her, because he has the feeling that she's cold. He puts an arm around her carefully, not wanting to wake her. She instinctively snuggles more closely into him.
She always makes him feel more calm. The next time the plane bounces in the air, he keeps his eyes open and focused on his book, staring hard at the words until his heart stops pounding.
…
When Juliet wakes up, she pulls a soft blanket from her carry-on bag and covers herself with it. Sawyer chuckles, and when she looks at him curiously, he just shakes his head. He thinks she's going to curl up against him again, but instead she presses the buttons to turn on the seatback entertainment screen, flipping through the channels until she finds a movie.
He watches her watch it, and then finds himself staring at her screen instead of at his book. He isn't really watching it; he's thinking about what the future holds.
She notices, and nudges him with her shoulder. He blinks and comes back to reality.
“You have one,” she points out, with a nod toward the screen in front of him.
“More fun watching yours.”
She nods like she understands, and offers him one of her earbuds. He nestles it into his ear, and sets his book face-down on the tray table, so they can watch together.
…
He seems restless, as though the small seats with miniscule legroom are suddenly too small to contain him. He shifts, and shifts again, like he can't get comfortable. But Juliet knows there's more to it. He's fretting again.
“Talk to me,” she says.
Sawyer glances at her but doesn't say anything.
“Everything's fine,” she says, looking around at the other passengers in the dim light and the flight attendants back in the galley, calm as can be.
“It ain't that,” he says.
She waits, but he doesn't tell her what it is. She wonders what he has to worry about, if not this. So she takes his hand again.
“Maybe it's what comes next that I'm afraid of,” he murmurs.
She glances at him, but she doesn't understand. She thinks maybe he means the landing. He holds her hand, but doesn't elaborate. It will have to be enough, she decides.
…
The movie still plays on the screen, but their headphones have been discarded, and Sawyer's book still lies on the tray table.
“I'm bored,” he murmurs into Juliet's ear.
She opens her mouth to tease him about it, but his tongue traces the curve of her ear and his teeth rake her earlobe, and her words are gone. He fixes his lips to the soft spot just behind her jaw. She stretches out a hand to stop him, but her fingers just close on a handful of his shirt.
Then he kisses her properly. It's the first time in hours he hasn't been tense, and she kisses him back, enjoying the effect she has on him. He lets out a soft, satisfied sound, drawing back and opening his eyes. She still sees the worry in them, and for the first time she wonders if it's more than this, more than just the flight. If he has regrets.
Then his hand slips underneath the blanket she has covering her and into her shirt.
“We can't,” she whispers.
“Sure we can,” he hisses back. “No one's gonna see. Hell, nobody cares.”
“James,” she whispers urgently. His hand starts to slide down into her jeans, and she grabs his wrist, holding it hard to stop him. His eyes blaze, looking into hers.
“Mile high club's the only good thing about flyin',” he says.
“Maybe we should've taken a cruise,” she whispers.
“Didn't know that was an option,” he says with a wry grin, then kisses her again.
…
He finished his book, and passed it over to her. Juliet reads it now while he flips through the entertainment channels. She sneaks glances at him. He's never been able to resist a television, she thinks. They draw him in so deep that he loses himself, and she's never quite understood it. It doesn't happen when he reads.
He doesn't seem afraid now, she thinks, and she's glad. She raises the window shade to peek out, seeing nothing but an endless sea of clouds. Closing it again, she tries to re-engage with the book, which is really more Sawyer's kind of thing than hers. It's only about another hour, and she wonders how he'll do with the landing. He's had fewer landings than takeoffs.
…
He watches in sick fascination out the tiny window on the other side of Juliet as the buildings get bigger and closer. The plane approaches the ground. He wishes he'd snagged a drink or five from the flight attendant, but it's too late for that now, as she's strapped in and waiting out their controlled fall from the sky.
His thoughts keep flashing back to the crash, and it's like he's reliving it. The intense turbulence, the horrible noise as the fuselage gave way to sudden air and sunlight. The screaming, and then the long, endless descent to the beach.
Juliet holds his hand tight, the only thing keeping him present. No one held his hand, then. He was alone, perhaps the most alone he'd ever been in an entire lifetime of being alone. He can't close his eyes now, because he thinks if he does, when he opens them, he'll be back on that damned rock without her and with no hope of escape, like this has all been a dream.
The wheels hit the runway. They are on the ground. He's shaking.
…
Sawyer walks slowly in the airport, in a way that tells her he's lightheaded and his pulse is probably still pounding. He looks pale underneath his tan, and equal parts like he's going to throw up and that he wants to kneel and kiss the solid ground beneath his feet.
But Juliet smiles at him and he does neither. He hitches his bag up higher onto his shoulder and stretches out one hand to take hers.
They fall in at the back of the customs line. She has their passports ready. He squeezes her hand, and gives her a playful grin that melts her heart. “You ready, Mrs. Ford?”
The name - her new name - makes her chest feel full. “I can't wait, James.”
end
Flying
by eponine119
October 4, 2020
Juliet watches Sawyer drink in the airport bar.
He silently drains another glass of whiskey and lifts his fingers to signal to the bartender that he'd like one more. He turns slightly toward her and watches her watching him. She can tell from his eyes that he's had enough. It's the only way she'll get him down the jetway and onto the plane. She takes another sip from the rum and coke in front of her.
A few drops of whiskey cling to his lips and she thinks about kissing them away.
He pretends he's not afraid of anything, but she knows better.
…
He studies the safety card intently, holding it with hands that shake ever so slightly. He is the only person paying attention to the flight attendant's presentation on seat belts and oxygen masks. He even turns around to count the rows to the nearest exit, which is behind them.
He catches her watching him. “Fifteen,” he says, with a tight smile. The number of rows to the exit.
The engines rev and he presses his head against the back of the seat. His knuckles turn white where he grips the armrests. Juliet places her hand on top of his, and she feels him take a deep breath. He doesn't open his eyes, but he turns his hand over and she threads her fingers through his. He holds on tight as the plane hurtles itself into the sky. She squeezes back.
…
Sawyer turns the pages of his paperback rapidly, trying to concentrate. Every time the plane jounces over an air pocket, the bottom drops out of his stomach and he closes his eyes again. The fear is so strong, and so irrational. He hates letting Juliet see it, so he's relieved that she fell asleep, even though that means he's facing it alone.
She lies against him with her head heavy on his shoulder. He feels every breath and sigh of her warm body pressed into his. He's sweating despite the chill, but if he had an airline blanket, he'd drape it over her, because he has the feeling that she's cold. He puts an arm around her carefully, not wanting to wake her. She instinctively snuggles more closely into him.
She always makes him feel more calm. The next time the plane bounces in the air, he keeps his eyes open and focused on his book, staring hard at the words until his heart stops pounding.
…
When Juliet wakes up, she pulls a soft blanket from her carry-on bag and covers herself with it. Sawyer chuckles, and when she looks at him curiously, he just shakes his head. He thinks she's going to curl up against him again, but instead she presses the buttons to turn on the seatback entertainment screen, flipping through the channels until she finds a movie.
He watches her watch it, and then finds himself staring at her screen instead of at his book. He isn't really watching it; he's thinking about what the future holds.
She notices, and nudges him with her shoulder. He blinks and comes back to reality.
“You have one,” she points out, with a nod toward the screen in front of him.
“More fun watching yours.”
She nods like she understands, and offers him one of her earbuds. He nestles it into his ear, and sets his book face-down on the tray table, so they can watch together.
…
He seems restless, as though the small seats with miniscule legroom are suddenly too small to contain him. He shifts, and shifts again, like he can't get comfortable. But Juliet knows there's more to it. He's fretting again.
“Talk to me,” she says.
Sawyer glances at her but doesn't say anything.
“Everything's fine,” she says, looking around at the other passengers in the dim light and the flight attendants back in the galley, calm as can be.
“It ain't that,” he says.
She waits, but he doesn't tell her what it is. She wonders what he has to worry about, if not this. So she takes his hand again.
“Maybe it's what comes next that I'm afraid of,” he murmurs.
She glances at him, but she doesn't understand. She thinks maybe he means the landing. He holds her hand, but doesn't elaborate. It will have to be enough, she decides.
…
The movie still plays on the screen, but their headphones have been discarded, and Sawyer's book still lies on the tray table.
“I'm bored,” he murmurs into Juliet's ear.
She opens her mouth to tease him about it, but his tongue traces the curve of her ear and his teeth rake her earlobe, and her words are gone. He fixes his lips to the soft spot just behind her jaw. She stretches out a hand to stop him, but her fingers just close on a handful of his shirt.
Then he kisses her properly. It's the first time in hours he hasn't been tense, and she kisses him back, enjoying the effect she has on him. He lets out a soft, satisfied sound, drawing back and opening his eyes. She still sees the worry in them, and for the first time she wonders if it's more than this, more than just the flight. If he has regrets.
Then his hand slips underneath the blanket she has covering her and into her shirt.
“We can't,” she whispers.
“Sure we can,” he hisses back. “No one's gonna see. Hell, nobody cares.”
“James,” she whispers urgently. His hand starts to slide down into her jeans, and she grabs his wrist, holding it hard to stop him. His eyes blaze, looking into hers.
“Mile high club's the only good thing about flyin',” he says.
“Maybe we should've taken a cruise,” she whispers.
“Didn't know that was an option,” he says with a wry grin, then kisses her again.
…
He finished his book, and passed it over to her. Juliet reads it now while he flips through the entertainment channels. She sneaks glances at him. He's never been able to resist a television, she thinks. They draw him in so deep that he loses himself, and she's never quite understood it. It doesn't happen when he reads.
He doesn't seem afraid now, she thinks, and she's glad. She raises the window shade to peek out, seeing nothing but an endless sea of clouds. Closing it again, she tries to re-engage with the book, which is really more Sawyer's kind of thing than hers. It's only about another hour, and she wonders how he'll do with the landing. He's had fewer landings than takeoffs.
…
He watches in sick fascination out the tiny window on the other side of Juliet as the buildings get bigger and closer. The plane approaches the ground. He wishes he'd snagged a drink or five from the flight attendant, but it's too late for that now, as she's strapped in and waiting out their controlled fall from the sky.
His thoughts keep flashing back to the crash, and it's like he's reliving it. The intense turbulence, the horrible noise as the fuselage gave way to sudden air and sunlight. The screaming, and then the long, endless descent to the beach.
Juliet holds his hand tight, the only thing keeping him present. No one held his hand, then. He was alone, perhaps the most alone he'd ever been in an entire lifetime of being alone. He can't close his eyes now, because he thinks if he does, when he opens them, he'll be back on that damned rock without her and with no hope of escape, like this has all been a dream.
The wheels hit the runway. They are on the ground. He's shaking.
…
Sawyer walks slowly in the airport, in a way that tells her he's lightheaded and his pulse is probably still pounding. He looks pale underneath his tan, and equal parts like he's going to throw up and that he wants to kneel and kiss the solid ground beneath his feet.
But Juliet smiles at him and he does neither. He hitches his bag up higher onto his shoulder and stretches out one hand to take hers.
They fall in at the back of the customs line. She has their passports ready. He squeezes her hand, and gives her a playful grin that melts her heart. “You ready, Mrs. Ford?”
The name - her new name - makes her chest feel full. “I can't wait, James.”
end