Lost fic: Players. (Shannon, Sawyer, Rated R)
Title: Players.
Fandom: Lost
Disclaimer: I don't approve of everything JJ does, but on the whole he's done a bang-up job on Lost (and surrounded himself with very talented writers, might I add). Kudos to them all!
Rating: R
Summary: Shannon wants to get drunk and knows only one person with booze on the island.
Author's notes: this was written for jade_plume, who wanted to read about either Sawyer or Shannon. I decided to write about them both, since I love them too much to make a choice! Happy birthday again, honey!
Author's notes 2: This happens before Outlaws, since that's the level of spoilers I could get away with.
Author's notes 3: big thanks to khohen1 for the beta job. Any flaw this fic still bears is most definitely my fault.
Players.
Shannon first realised she could use her looks to get things out of people when she was eight and waiting for her dad on Main Street in Disneyland, and a man bought her an ice-cream, just because she was pretty he said. Her dad hadn't been too happy about that, but the man had just smiled, apologised if he'd overstepped boundaries, winked at Shannon and gone off.
She realised exactly how much her looks could get her with Boone. As they both grew into teenagers, it was all about what she could or couldn't get him to do for her, and it culminated in adulthood when she plotted to get thousands of dollars out of him.
She didn't realise she'd been caught at her own game until that night they had sex and he made her cry with pleasure, and the next morning it actually hurt to tell him things were going back to usual. But it was a necessary pain.
Sawyer first realised he could use his looks to get things out of people when he was nine and he got picked by a nice foster family because he was too damn cute, they said. Of course he didn't stay there long, they weren't his mommy and daddy and he didn't care about them, he just cared about finding the man that had killed his real, his true, his only parents.
He realised exactly how much his looks could get him when he was a teenager, and broke, and a rich old hag set her fancy on him. Growing up was about finding better ways to ally pleasure and business, to make sure he got enough money to keep looking for him.
He didn't realise he'd been caught at his own game until that day he saw the boy of a couple he'd been about to con, and he had to walk out and leave them be because he'd become what he hated and he couldn't do that to the kid. Since then all he's known is self-hatred.
So when those two met on the island, things didn't exactly click. They were too alike, and too different. Sawyer called her Sticks and was amused by her, and Shannon hated amusing people. So she used those long skinny legs of hers to walk away from him, and hated him almost as much as she hated Boone.
And Sawyer watched her go, and figured he wouldn't mind a piece of her.
They hardly talked after that, which wasn't hard to achieve. Sawyer wasn't exactly a social butterfly and Shannon wouldn't lower herself to associate with the likes of him, no surprise there. But they watched each other, and knew each other for what they were.
When Sawyer beat Boone up Shannon wasn't surprised. She should have known Boone would go about it the exact wrong way, because Boone simply didn't know how to handle people like them, he never had. But she panicked all the same, because she wasn't sure anybody on this island could handle people like them, namely Sawyer in this case. And she really needed her medicine, and she hated for people to see her in this state and she hated needing Boone so much, but she loved him for trying, and for being there. Maybe that was what she hated the most about him.
When Sawyer heard Boone tell him of his sister's plight he could have cared less. Kid was getting on his nerves, going through his stuff, and he'd deserved the beating. It wasn't like he could have done anything for Sticks anyway, he didn't have the damn inhalers. But he didn't tell them that until he got what he wanted, a thrashing and a kiss. If Sawyer was anything beside a selfish son-of-a-bitch, it was stubborn.
He knew Sticks wouldn't take it personally, and indeed Shannon didn't.
The proof of that was when she walked to Sawyer's tent and stepped inside it for all to see. Boone was slipping out of her influence and she hated it, she hated how he kept sneaking off with Locke - on boar-hunting expeditions her pretty white ass - and how they always came back empty-handed, and she hated that now nothing she said could ever keep him with her. She remembered a time when a single phone call was enough to have him fly halfway across the world for her, and she hated that he just didn't seem to care that much anymore, especially now, after that night.
Sawyer had been dozing, Boone's stupid book open on his face to give his eyes a feeble illusion of darkness in the sunny afternoon. Shannon didn't hesitate nudging him with her toes, then poking him in the ribs when he didn't wake up. He groaned, shifted, took the book off of his face and frowned up at her.
"What?" His voice was groggy and showed no welcome, but Shannon had never let that stop her before, with anyone.
She looked at him mercilessly, and his expression got even grumpier. "Do you have any booze?"
When she walked out of the tent two minutes later, they had a date of sorts.
Sawyer had booze, of course. The mini-bar had been one of the first things he'd raided in the plane wreck. He didn't know what was more miraculous, that forty-eight of them had survived the crash or that he'd found so many intact bottles, but he didn't much care for miracles anyway. He just took the booze and was thankful, and he held on to it because there was so little, he didn't wanna waste it.
When Sticks told him she wanted to get wasted - and why was none of his business, she added with a warning glare - Sawyer answered the only way she was getting her pretty, manicured hands on his booze was if they got wasted together. He said so with his come-on-let's-fuck grin and a glint in his eyes, but she simply smiled her perfect smile, baring white teeth at him in a studied show, and agreed. "Deal."
That night Shannon made sure Boone saw her walk into the jungle with Sawyer. Sawyer didn't say anything about it, but she thought the way he snuck an arm around her waist was a bit too ostentatious to be done just for the sake of it, so she smiled up at him and returned the favour. She knew she was playing with fire, but she could feel Boone's eyes burning a hole in her back as they walked off, and that in itself was worth it.
The walk in the jungle wasn't easy enough that they could keep their arms around each other's waist, but Sawyer extended his hand to her to help her climb up some particularly rough ground.
"Abdul didn't seem too happy to see us," he remarked offhandedly.
Shannon frowned, almost missed a step. "You mean Sayid?"
"Who else," Sawyer muttered, and there was a hint of wariness in his voice. "Don't tell me you didn't notice."
"Of course I did," she snapped, and couldn’t believe that she hadn't. She snatched her hand back, determined to show him she didn't need his help. "I was just surprised by the nickname. Why can't you just call people by their names?"
"You still mad about your nickname, Sticks?" Sawyer just replied, and his smirk showed in his voice.
"Where are we going anyway?"
"I told ya, special place. You'll like it."
"Whatever."
They walked on in silence, except there never was any silence in the jungle. Leaves bristled, wood cracked, animals made noises, and Shannon thought that the moonlight really wasn't enough to see by. In front of her Sawyer progressed easily, but she was wearing stupid fashionable sandals and she stumbled on roots and scratched herself on branches and cursed. The jungle was even more intimidating by night than by day, and she patted the back pocket of her jeans to make sure she'd taken some eucalyptus. She certainly wasn't gonna rely on Sawyer to help if she had a crisis.
He stopped, looked around, then pointed to the right of where they'd been headed. "It's there, just beyond those trees."
Shannon could have sighed with relief. She stumbled on a root in her haste to get there, whatever there was, but Sawyer caught her in time and at close proximity, almost nose to nose, she was all too aware that Sawyer was exactly her kind of guy. The kind of guy that was the total opposite of Boone, the kind of guy she would parade in front of him to make him jealous or get money out of him. He was exactly her kind of guy, and a part of her wanted him but, more surprisingly, a part of her didn't.
"Careful, Sticks," he muttered, and it seemed like the jungle had gotten quiet for once.
She smiled dryly, the only thanks he'd get, and walked on. His hand fleeted a couple times to the small of her back as she headed for the trees he'd indicated, and she didn't mind so much because it was better than the risk of falling and scraping her hands or knees, and it wasn't altogether unpleasant.
Then they got to the other side of the trees and Shannon stared.
"It's gorgeous," she managed after a few seconds, and she even forgot to sound jaded.
"Told ya you'd like it," Sawyer pointed out, and headed for the edge of the lake.
Shannon stared at the waterfall for a few more seconds, and knew that this sort of landscape was exactly why people dreamed of desert islands, because they didn't know better: they thought about the luxurious plants, the waterfall and the reflection of the moon in the dark water, not about things that tore down trees, polar bears, crazy French chicks, super-strong kidnapping psychos and, most of all, the lack of any sort of shop, much less a mall, within hundreds of miles.
She joined Sawyer by the edge of the lake, where he had put down his bag and was stretching, a wide grin splitting his face, and she thought of a contented feline at rest. He looked more natural than Shannon had ever seen him, like he'd dropped the mask for once, but she wasn't sure he had. Maybe he just wore a more natural-looking mask.
"Do the others know about this place?"
"Kate does," he answered, and his face had closed down. "I'd be surprised Doc didn't. And I'm sure Locke and your halfwit brother must have stumbled across it during one of their famous boar hunts."
His mention of Boone annoyed her and she didn't reply anything, lips pressed together in a disdainful line. But she couldn't keep it up as her eyes fell on the waterfall again. You couldn't sulk or brood in a place like this, and it was perfect because she didn't want to sulk or brood tonight - or ever, but tonight especially.
"I'm going for a swim," she informed him.
"Be right there," Sawyer answered, but his voice didn't sound like he cared.
She didn't look back at him as she pulled her top over her head, then slid her jeans off. She heard him curse as she stepped into the water, and smiled to herself thinking he must have just looked up and realised she didn't have a bra on.
Guys were so easy to play, and Sawyer wasn't that different.
The water was warm and she smiled contentedly as she parted it with languid strokes. This wasn't the sea with its waves, she was the only disturbance in the even surface of the lake. She idly wondered whether the water was more green or blue by day, and thought she'd have to come back to check. Maybe she could take Sayid with her, or maybe she'd come back with Sawyer first, because she couldn't for the life of her remember how to get here anyway.
Suddenly something grabbed her from underneath the surface and she shrieked, panicked, struck out wildly with arms and long skinny legs, thought she hit something with her foot but was too busy sputtering water out to be sure.
"Ow!" cried out a well-known voice. "You know you almost just really hurt me! Just a little bit more to the left and my chances at procreatin' woulda taken a real bad hit."
"That would have been doing the world a favour, asshole," she snapped as she tried to calm herself down. "Don't ever do that again."
"What, did I scare ya?" he asked in an innocent tone, except Shannon didn't think anything could ever truly sound innocent when it was said with his Southern drawl and that rumbling voice of his.
She rolled her eyes and made to swim away from him.
"I wouldn't go too deep near the waterfall if I were ya," he warned her, raising his voice.
She stopped and turned around, faced him. "Why not?"
"Bit of the plane landed there, with some of the folks on it."
Shannon stared at him and felt the cold settle over her, seep into her very bones. "There are dead people in here?"
"Yep."
"And you didn't mention that before, because?"
"You musta gotten me distracted somehow," he replied with another one of his grins and a waggle of his eyebrows.
Suddenly wearing nothing but her panties felt like it really wasn't enough, and she was swimming back for the shore before she'd even made her decision. She stepped out of the lake and wrung water from her hair, then slipped her top back on. It clung to her wet skin and did nothing to conceal her hardened nipples, but still she heard Sawyer make a sound of disappointment as he emerged out of the lake too.
"Putting clothes back on already?" he stated mournfully, torso glistening and hair drenched with water he didn't bother wringing out. "Shame."
"I'm going back," Shannon informed him, and grabbed her jeans.
"How's that gonna work, Sticks?" he asked as he stood there, simply watching her, and she felt even more naked than before she put her top back on. "You know your way back?"
She froze, watched him closely and saw the smug glint in his eyes, schooled her own features into a flawless mask of resolve. She used the same voice she used each time she wanted something and didn't expect no for an answer, the same voice she mostly used with Boone. "Take me back, Sawyer."
"Relax, I'll take you back after we get wasted like we said." He gestured at his backpack, lying on the ground. "I brought everything we need, princess."
"I changed my mind," she flippantly told him, ignored the new nickname, and found herself wishing Boone had followed them here. She could imagine him stepping out from the cover of the trees, telling Sawyer to back the hell off, that he'd take her back and they didn't need his pathetic Southern ass. "Take me back to the caves, Sawyer," she said again, except this time his name almost sounded like a plea.
There was a gleam in Sawyer's eyes, and she was suddenly all too aware that she had her jeans in her hands and still hadn't put them on, that her long skinny legs must be glistening just like his bare chest, enticingly, that there was nobody around to hear her scream and that she didn't wanna scream anyway, that something hot and demanding was pooling low in her body.
He walked up to her, and his swagger was a warning and a challenge. She backed away without meaning to, a pure reflex, because he was all male and in-your-face, and for a few seconds she forgot that she never backed away. Her back hit a tree trunk just as she remembered that, and Sawyer stepped into her space, wild eyes staring intensely into hers. "How you gonna make me wanna take you back, Shan?"
That did it for her. Boone called her Shan, and no fucking body else.
She planted her eyes firmly into Sawyer's and tried to shove him away, both hands on his chest. She thought he wouldn't let her, and he didn't disappoint. He grabbed her wrists before she could shove and held them on each side of her head against the rough tree bark, and she melted against him as their lips crashed together and their tongues battled, and all four of their hands were roughly exploring the other's body.
Sawyer didn't kiss like the usual guys. They kissed selfishly, and she would have staked her life on the fact that so would he. And for that she would have died because that assumption was oh so wrong. He kissed like he wanted to devour her, to take all of her inside him, and that was selfish, yes. But he also kissed like he wanted her to know how much insane pleasure he would give her, and that was a fucking gift.
Shannon's brain kicked back into action, overcame her hormones, and reminded her that the way he kissed was probably some practised art honed over the years. They were players, the both of them, and she found herself wondering what he thought of the way she kissed.
When he pulled back to utter some smartass remark, she moved one of her legs between his to rub her thigh against his hard-on and whatever he'd been about to say was lost forever. He dropped his head forward, buried it in the crook of her neck, and she ran her hand through his wet hair, fisted it and pulled his head back so that he was looking at her. He was gorgeous, she knew, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and maybe that was the problem. Equality didn't lead to control, it led to power struggles and it always got ugly.
"Sawyer," she murmured huskily, and his eyes focused on hers. She smiled, rubbed him one last time, then put her hands on his chest and shoved him away, hard. Her voice lashed out like a whip, dry and stinging. "Bite me."
"Oh come on!" he protested, and his face belied how unfair he thought she was. He was right in that, but they both knew better than to think anything in the whole wide world was fucking fair. "You ain't gonna leave me like that!"
"I changed my mind again," she told him, and her tone had reverted to casualness as she picked up her jeans and slid them on. "Let's get drunk."
Sawyer looked at her for a few more seconds, then accepted his fate and shrugged, heading for his backpack. "Let's."
After he gave her a first bottle - she'd chosen vodka - he made a fire before helping himself. He was uncomfortable for a good long while, what with the hell of a hard-on she'd given him, but as they drank and chatted, exchanged gossip - useful gossip only, mind you - on the other survivors and laughed at their expense, things got less tense. As long as they weren't struggling for power it seemed like the two of them could get on pretty well, and that was fine by Sawyer.
Sure, he wouldn't have minded a piece of her. She'd kissed like someone who'd give great head, and he knew what he was talking about, but they both knew sex was never just about sex, not in their world. Desire and sex were about power, and maybe it was best if they didn't try and control each other, because they both had enough on their plates as it was.
He told her about Kate, the third player on this island, and how she was mounting Doc and him against each other. How he let her do it, because it didn't matter and he didn't fool himself about her, and how he wondered whether Jack was fooled.
You called him Jack, Shannon pointed out with a smirk, to which he answered that weirder shit had happened. She drank to that and told him about Locke, the fourth player.
Neither of them knew how things would play out, but they understood power plays like few else, and they knew it all revolved around Jack. At least that was what Sawyer assumed, and he said so, but then Shannon got a weird look in her eyes and her pretty forehead wrinkled in a frown, like she wasn't completely sure about that, but when Sawyer called her on it she just said he was probably right.
Then he asked her what she was gonna do about Abdul, and she answered that she didn't know. That was when it really showed that she didn't hold her alcohol half as well as Sawyer - which was no surprise when you looked at how skinny she was - because she tried to stand up, finally decided crawling to Sawyer's side of the fire was easier than walking there, and told him in the shell of his ear that right now he really should wonder what she was gonna do about him. Then she did something to his earlobe that felt downright sinful with her tongue and her teeth and her lips.
They fooled around, but Sawyer didn't take it further than that. Because it was best they didn't try and control each other, because there was Kate and Jack, and Locke and Boone, and Sayid and this craphole island and all the weird shit that kept happening, and if Sawyer and Shannon started going at each other they wouldn't stop until either or both of them were completely destroyed, and there was no telling who else they would take down with them in the fight.
So as they fooled around Sawyer kept plying her with booze, and soon enough she'd dozed off into alcoholic sleep. She snored for a few minutes, and Sawyer could only chuckle to himself. He could blackmail her with that piece of information, he was sure; the perfect little Barbie princess had snored. He looked at the booze they hadn't drunk, hesitated about continuing on his own, finally decided against it. Instead he pulled the cover he'd brought over her and went for another swim.
In the morning she woke up with a hell of a headache, if the constant frown was any indication, and nausea, if her refusal of the berries he offered for breakfast was. He teased her about it and she snapped at him. Then a little while later, as they were making their way back to the caves, she suddenly stopped and asked him, in the small but determined voice of someone who hated having to ask, what exactly had happened last night.
"We didn't fuck if that's what you were wonderin' about, princess," he answered, but he couldn't help grin at her. "Mighta fooled around some, though."
"Sawyer..." she said menacingly, but then she looked down at the pretty little sandals on her pretty little feet, and the fight seemed to etch out of her. "I don't normally drink that much. I don't like losing control, and I hate not remembering."
"That brother of yours is doing a number on ya, I know," Sawyer answered, and she glared at him for an instant before she realised he wasn't mocking her. Her look got questioning. "We had a bit of a heart-to-heart last night. I get you, you get me. We stay out of each other's hair from now on and all will be well," he finished, and he sounded so bitter. She nodded, slowly, and he was forced to add, "That's why we didn't fuck."
She nodded again, and then she smiled a bit. It was the first true smile he saw her give him, he thought. It wasn't calculated, or drunk. "I'm glad."
He shook his head with a smirk. "Well if you're glad, sunshine, that just about makes my day."
"Shut up," she said, but the tone was playful rather than aggressive, and she walked past him towards the caves.
"How's the hangover?"
"I've had worse." She didn't add anything for a couple hundred yards, at which point she spoke up. "You know, let's just let people wonder about tonight."
"Wasn't plannin' to shed any light on it."
"Good."
And he wondered that she wanted to make the halfwit suffer so much, but it was none of his business, they'd agreed to that and he'd reminded her as much. He'd let her play her games, and she'd let him play his, and with a bit of luck they'd survive craphole island and maybe then, maybe once they were back in civilisation, they'd fuck once, just to know, before heading off their own ways, to try and gather the broken shards of their old lives and make new ones out of them.
When they got to the caves Boone was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Kate. Jack was there and barely spared them a glance. Shannon didn't stop walking and Sawyer followed suit, and together they headed for the beach. When they stepped out of the jungle a few eyes were on them. Sayid was working on something, and Boone and Locke were talking together, so they put on a show. Shannon flashed him a bright smile, and Sawyer gave her a smirk and a wink, and he headed for his tent and she for her usual spot in the sun. Sayid watched Sawyer darkly, then turned away and went resolutely back to his business. Boone glared at him, glanced at Shannon, and regretfully focused back on his conversation with Locke.
Later Boone went and asked Shannon where she'd been that night, and she brightly answered it was none of his business, before asking what he actually did with Locke each time they went off together. Boone scowled and walked away, and Shannon felt empty.
The next day Kate brought up the rumour that there was something going on between Sawyer and Shannon, so he asked her if she'd have a problem with that. She shrugged, eyes twinkling, and said she didn't see why she would, and then she walked away. And Sawyer felt empty.
Empty, that was the players' lot.
~~ fin ~~
Fandom: Lost
Disclaimer: I don't approve of everything JJ does, but on the whole he's done a bang-up job on Lost (and surrounded himself with very talented writers, might I add). Kudos to them all!
Rating: R
Summary: Shannon wants to get drunk and knows only one person with booze on the island.
Author's notes: this was written for jade_plume, who wanted to read about either Sawyer or Shannon. I decided to write about them both, since I love them too much to make a choice! Happy birthday again, honey!
Author's notes 2: This happens before Outlaws, since that's the level of spoilers I could get away with.
Author's notes 3: big thanks to khohen1 for the beta job. Any flaw this fic still bears is most definitely my fault.
Players.
Shannon first realised she could use her looks to get things out of people when she was eight and waiting for her dad on Main Street in Disneyland, and a man bought her an ice-cream, just because she was pretty he said. Her dad hadn't been too happy about that, but the man had just smiled, apologised if he'd overstepped boundaries, winked at Shannon and gone off.
She realised exactly how much her looks could get her with Boone. As they both grew into teenagers, it was all about what she could or couldn't get him to do for her, and it culminated in adulthood when she plotted to get thousands of dollars out of him.
She didn't realise she'd been caught at her own game until that night they had sex and he made her cry with pleasure, and the next morning it actually hurt to tell him things were going back to usual. But it was a necessary pain.
Sawyer first realised he could use his looks to get things out of people when he was nine and he got picked by a nice foster family because he was too damn cute, they said. Of course he didn't stay there long, they weren't his mommy and daddy and he didn't care about them, he just cared about finding the man that had killed his real, his true, his only parents.
He realised exactly how much his looks could get him when he was a teenager, and broke, and a rich old hag set her fancy on him. Growing up was about finding better ways to ally pleasure and business, to make sure he got enough money to keep looking for him.
He didn't realise he'd been caught at his own game until that day he saw the boy of a couple he'd been about to con, and he had to walk out and leave them be because he'd become what he hated and he couldn't do that to the kid. Since then all he's known is self-hatred.
So when those two met on the island, things didn't exactly click. They were too alike, and too different. Sawyer called her Sticks and was amused by her, and Shannon hated amusing people. So she used those long skinny legs of hers to walk away from him, and hated him almost as much as she hated Boone.
And Sawyer watched her go, and figured he wouldn't mind a piece of her.
They hardly talked after that, which wasn't hard to achieve. Sawyer wasn't exactly a social butterfly and Shannon wouldn't lower herself to associate with the likes of him, no surprise there. But they watched each other, and knew each other for what they were.
When Sawyer beat Boone up Shannon wasn't surprised. She should have known Boone would go about it the exact wrong way, because Boone simply didn't know how to handle people like them, he never had. But she panicked all the same, because she wasn't sure anybody on this island could handle people like them, namely Sawyer in this case. And she really needed her medicine, and she hated for people to see her in this state and she hated needing Boone so much, but she loved him for trying, and for being there. Maybe that was what she hated the most about him.
When Sawyer heard Boone tell him of his sister's plight he could have cared less. Kid was getting on his nerves, going through his stuff, and he'd deserved the beating. It wasn't like he could have done anything for Sticks anyway, he didn't have the damn inhalers. But he didn't tell them that until he got what he wanted, a thrashing and a kiss. If Sawyer was anything beside a selfish son-of-a-bitch, it was stubborn.
He knew Sticks wouldn't take it personally, and indeed Shannon didn't.
The proof of that was when she walked to Sawyer's tent and stepped inside it for all to see. Boone was slipping out of her influence and she hated it, she hated how he kept sneaking off with Locke - on boar-hunting expeditions her pretty white ass - and how they always came back empty-handed, and she hated that now nothing she said could ever keep him with her. She remembered a time when a single phone call was enough to have him fly halfway across the world for her, and she hated that he just didn't seem to care that much anymore, especially now, after that night.
Sawyer had been dozing, Boone's stupid book open on his face to give his eyes a feeble illusion of darkness in the sunny afternoon. Shannon didn't hesitate nudging him with her toes, then poking him in the ribs when he didn't wake up. He groaned, shifted, took the book off of his face and frowned up at her.
"What?" His voice was groggy and showed no welcome, but Shannon had never let that stop her before, with anyone.
She looked at him mercilessly, and his expression got even grumpier. "Do you have any booze?"
When she walked out of the tent two minutes later, they had a date of sorts.
Sawyer had booze, of course. The mini-bar had been one of the first things he'd raided in the plane wreck. He didn't know what was more miraculous, that forty-eight of them had survived the crash or that he'd found so many intact bottles, but he didn't much care for miracles anyway. He just took the booze and was thankful, and he held on to it because there was so little, he didn't wanna waste it.
When Sticks told him she wanted to get wasted - and why was none of his business, she added with a warning glare - Sawyer answered the only way she was getting her pretty, manicured hands on his booze was if they got wasted together. He said so with his come-on-let's-fuck grin and a glint in his eyes, but she simply smiled her perfect smile, baring white teeth at him in a studied show, and agreed. "Deal."
That night Shannon made sure Boone saw her walk into the jungle with Sawyer. Sawyer didn't say anything about it, but she thought the way he snuck an arm around her waist was a bit too ostentatious to be done just for the sake of it, so she smiled up at him and returned the favour. She knew she was playing with fire, but she could feel Boone's eyes burning a hole in her back as they walked off, and that in itself was worth it.
The walk in the jungle wasn't easy enough that they could keep their arms around each other's waist, but Sawyer extended his hand to her to help her climb up some particularly rough ground.
"Abdul didn't seem too happy to see us," he remarked offhandedly.
Shannon frowned, almost missed a step. "You mean Sayid?"
"Who else," Sawyer muttered, and there was a hint of wariness in his voice. "Don't tell me you didn't notice."
"Of course I did," she snapped, and couldn’t believe that she hadn't. She snatched her hand back, determined to show him she didn't need his help. "I was just surprised by the nickname. Why can't you just call people by their names?"
"You still mad about your nickname, Sticks?" Sawyer just replied, and his smirk showed in his voice.
"Where are we going anyway?"
"I told ya, special place. You'll like it."
"Whatever."
They walked on in silence, except there never was any silence in the jungle. Leaves bristled, wood cracked, animals made noises, and Shannon thought that the moonlight really wasn't enough to see by. In front of her Sawyer progressed easily, but she was wearing stupid fashionable sandals and she stumbled on roots and scratched herself on branches and cursed. The jungle was even more intimidating by night than by day, and she patted the back pocket of her jeans to make sure she'd taken some eucalyptus. She certainly wasn't gonna rely on Sawyer to help if she had a crisis.
He stopped, looked around, then pointed to the right of where they'd been headed. "It's there, just beyond those trees."
Shannon could have sighed with relief. She stumbled on a root in her haste to get there, whatever there was, but Sawyer caught her in time and at close proximity, almost nose to nose, she was all too aware that Sawyer was exactly her kind of guy. The kind of guy that was the total opposite of Boone, the kind of guy she would parade in front of him to make him jealous or get money out of him. He was exactly her kind of guy, and a part of her wanted him but, more surprisingly, a part of her didn't.
"Careful, Sticks," he muttered, and it seemed like the jungle had gotten quiet for once.
She smiled dryly, the only thanks he'd get, and walked on. His hand fleeted a couple times to the small of her back as she headed for the trees he'd indicated, and she didn't mind so much because it was better than the risk of falling and scraping her hands or knees, and it wasn't altogether unpleasant.
Then they got to the other side of the trees and Shannon stared.
"It's gorgeous," she managed after a few seconds, and she even forgot to sound jaded.
"Told ya you'd like it," Sawyer pointed out, and headed for the edge of the lake.
Shannon stared at the waterfall for a few more seconds, and knew that this sort of landscape was exactly why people dreamed of desert islands, because they didn't know better: they thought about the luxurious plants, the waterfall and the reflection of the moon in the dark water, not about things that tore down trees, polar bears, crazy French chicks, super-strong kidnapping psychos and, most of all, the lack of any sort of shop, much less a mall, within hundreds of miles.
She joined Sawyer by the edge of the lake, where he had put down his bag and was stretching, a wide grin splitting his face, and she thought of a contented feline at rest. He looked more natural than Shannon had ever seen him, like he'd dropped the mask for once, but she wasn't sure he had. Maybe he just wore a more natural-looking mask.
"Do the others know about this place?"
"Kate does," he answered, and his face had closed down. "I'd be surprised Doc didn't. And I'm sure Locke and your halfwit brother must have stumbled across it during one of their famous boar hunts."
His mention of Boone annoyed her and she didn't reply anything, lips pressed together in a disdainful line. But she couldn't keep it up as her eyes fell on the waterfall again. You couldn't sulk or brood in a place like this, and it was perfect because she didn't want to sulk or brood tonight - or ever, but tonight especially.
"I'm going for a swim," she informed him.
"Be right there," Sawyer answered, but his voice didn't sound like he cared.
She didn't look back at him as she pulled her top over her head, then slid her jeans off. She heard him curse as she stepped into the water, and smiled to herself thinking he must have just looked up and realised she didn't have a bra on.
Guys were so easy to play, and Sawyer wasn't that different.
The water was warm and she smiled contentedly as she parted it with languid strokes. This wasn't the sea with its waves, she was the only disturbance in the even surface of the lake. She idly wondered whether the water was more green or blue by day, and thought she'd have to come back to check. Maybe she could take Sayid with her, or maybe she'd come back with Sawyer first, because she couldn't for the life of her remember how to get here anyway.
Suddenly something grabbed her from underneath the surface and she shrieked, panicked, struck out wildly with arms and long skinny legs, thought she hit something with her foot but was too busy sputtering water out to be sure.
"Ow!" cried out a well-known voice. "You know you almost just really hurt me! Just a little bit more to the left and my chances at procreatin' woulda taken a real bad hit."
"That would have been doing the world a favour, asshole," she snapped as she tried to calm herself down. "Don't ever do that again."
"What, did I scare ya?" he asked in an innocent tone, except Shannon didn't think anything could ever truly sound innocent when it was said with his Southern drawl and that rumbling voice of his.
She rolled her eyes and made to swim away from him.
"I wouldn't go too deep near the waterfall if I were ya," he warned her, raising his voice.
She stopped and turned around, faced him. "Why not?"
"Bit of the plane landed there, with some of the folks on it."
Shannon stared at him and felt the cold settle over her, seep into her very bones. "There are dead people in here?"
"Yep."
"And you didn't mention that before, because?"
"You musta gotten me distracted somehow," he replied with another one of his grins and a waggle of his eyebrows.
Suddenly wearing nothing but her panties felt like it really wasn't enough, and she was swimming back for the shore before she'd even made her decision. She stepped out of the lake and wrung water from her hair, then slipped her top back on. It clung to her wet skin and did nothing to conceal her hardened nipples, but still she heard Sawyer make a sound of disappointment as he emerged out of the lake too.
"Putting clothes back on already?" he stated mournfully, torso glistening and hair drenched with water he didn't bother wringing out. "Shame."
"I'm going back," Shannon informed him, and grabbed her jeans.
"How's that gonna work, Sticks?" he asked as he stood there, simply watching her, and she felt even more naked than before she put her top back on. "You know your way back?"
She froze, watched him closely and saw the smug glint in his eyes, schooled her own features into a flawless mask of resolve. She used the same voice she used each time she wanted something and didn't expect no for an answer, the same voice she mostly used with Boone. "Take me back, Sawyer."
"Relax, I'll take you back after we get wasted like we said." He gestured at his backpack, lying on the ground. "I brought everything we need, princess."
"I changed my mind," she flippantly told him, ignored the new nickname, and found herself wishing Boone had followed them here. She could imagine him stepping out from the cover of the trees, telling Sawyer to back the hell off, that he'd take her back and they didn't need his pathetic Southern ass. "Take me back to the caves, Sawyer," she said again, except this time his name almost sounded like a plea.
There was a gleam in Sawyer's eyes, and she was suddenly all too aware that she had her jeans in her hands and still hadn't put them on, that her long skinny legs must be glistening just like his bare chest, enticingly, that there was nobody around to hear her scream and that she didn't wanna scream anyway, that something hot and demanding was pooling low in her body.
He walked up to her, and his swagger was a warning and a challenge. She backed away without meaning to, a pure reflex, because he was all male and in-your-face, and for a few seconds she forgot that she never backed away. Her back hit a tree trunk just as she remembered that, and Sawyer stepped into her space, wild eyes staring intensely into hers. "How you gonna make me wanna take you back, Shan?"
That did it for her. Boone called her Shan, and no fucking body else.
She planted her eyes firmly into Sawyer's and tried to shove him away, both hands on his chest. She thought he wouldn't let her, and he didn't disappoint. He grabbed her wrists before she could shove and held them on each side of her head against the rough tree bark, and she melted against him as their lips crashed together and their tongues battled, and all four of their hands were roughly exploring the other's body.
Sawyer didn't kiss like the usual guys. They kissed selfishly, and she would have staked her life on the fact that so would he. And for that she would have died because that assumption was oh so wrong. He kissed like he wanted to devour her, to take all of her inside him, and that was selfish, yes. But he also kissed like he wanted her to know how much insane pleasure he would give her, and that was a fucking gift.
Shannon's brain kicked back into action, overcame her hormones, and reminded her that the way he kissed was probably some practised art honed over the years. They were players, the both of them, and she found herself wondering what he thought of the way she kissed.
When he pulled back to utter some smartass remark, she moved one of her legs between his to rub her thigh against his hard-on and whatever he'd been about to say was lost forever. He dropped his head forward, buried it in the crook of her neck, and she ran her hand through his wet hair, fisted it and pulled his head back so that he was looking at her. He was gorgeous, she knew, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and maybe that was the problem. Equality didn't lead to control, it led to power struggles and it always got ugly.
"Sawyer," she murmured huskily, and his eyes focused on hers. She smiled, rubbed him one last time, then put her hands on his chest and shoved him away, hard. Her voice lashed out like a whip, dry and stinging. "Bite me."
"Oh come on!" he protested, and his face belied how unfair he thought she was. He was right in that, but they both knew better than to think anything in the whole wide world was fucking fair. "You ain't gonna leave me like that!"
"I changed my mind again," she told him, and her tone had reverted to casualness as she picked up her jeans and slid them on. "Let's get drunk."
Sawyer looked at her for a few more seconds, then accepted his fate and shrugged, heading for his backpack. "Let's."
After he gave her a first bottle - she'd chosen vodka - he made a fire before helping himself. He was uncomfortable for a good long while, what with the hell of a hard-on she'd given him, but as they drank and chatted, exchanged gossip - useful gossip only, mind you - on the other survivors and laughed at their expense, things got less tense. As long as they weren't struggling for power it seemed like the two of them could get on pretty well, and that was fine by Sawyer.
Sure, he wouldn't have minded a piece of her. She'd kissed like someone who'd give great head, and he knew what he was talking about, but they both knew sex was never just about sex, not in their world. Desire and sex were about power, and maybe it was best if they didn't try and control each other, because they both had enough on their plates as it was.
He told her about Kate, the third player on this island, and how she was mounting Doc and him against each other. How he let her do it, because it didn't matter and he didn't fool himself about her, and how he wondered whether Jack was fooled.
You called him Jack, Shannon pointed out with a smirk, to which he answered that weirder shit had happened. She drank to that and told him about Locke, the fourth player.
Neither of them knew how things would play out, but they understood power plays like few else, and they knew it all revolved around Jack. At least that was what Sawyer assumed, and he said so, but then Shannon got a weird look in her eyes and her pretty forehead wrinkled in a frown, like she wasn't completely sure about that, but when Sawyer called her on it she just said he was probably right.
Then he asked her what she was gonna do about Abdul, and she answered that she didn't know. That was when it really showed that she didn't hold her alcohol half as well as Sawyer - which was no surprise when you looked at how skinny she was - because she tried to stand up, finally decided crawling to Sawyer's side of the fire was easier than walking there, and told him in the shell of his ear that right now he really should wonder what she was gonna do about him. Then she did something to his earlobe that felt downright sinful with her tongue and her teeth and her lips.
They fooled around, but Sawyer didn't take it further than that. Because it was best they didn't try and control each other, because there was Kate and Jack, and Locke and Boone, and Sayid and this craphole island and all the weird shit that kept happening, and if Sawyer and Shannon started going at each other they wouldn't stop until either or both of them were completely destroyed, and there was no telling who else they would take down with them in the fight.
So as they fooled around Sawyer kept plying her with booze, and soon enough she'd dozed off into alcoholic sleep. She snored for a few minutes, and Sawyer could only chuckle to himself. He could blackmail her with that piece of information, he was sure; the perfect little Barbie princess had snored. He looked at the booze they hadn't drunk, hesitated about continuing on his own, finally decided against it. Instead he pulled the cover he'd brought over her and went for another swim.
In the morning she woke up with a hell of a headache, if the constant frown was any indication, and nausea, if her refusal of the berries he offered for breakfast was. He teased her about it and she snapped at him. Then a little while later, as they were making their way back to the caves, she suddenly stopped and asked him, in the small but determined voice of someone who hated having to ask, what exactly had happened last night.
"We didn't fuck if that's what you were wonderin' about, princess," he answered, but he couldn't help grin at her. "Mighta fooled around some, though."
"Sawyer..." she said menacingly, but then she looked down at the pretty little sandals on her pretty little feet, and the fight seemed to etch out of her. "I don't normally drink that much. I don't like losing control, and I hate not remembering."
"That brother of yours is doing a number on ya, I know," Sawyer answered, and she glared at him for an instant before she realised he wasn't mocking her. Her look got questioning. "We had a bit of a heart-to-heart last night. I get you, you get me. We stay out of each other's hair from now on and all will be well," he finished, and he sounded so bitter. She nodded, slowly, and he was forced to add, "That's why we didn't fuck."
She nodded again, and then she smiled a bit. It was the first true smile he saw her give him, he thought. It wasn't calculated, or drunk. "I'm glad."
He shook his head with a smirk. "Well if you're glad, sunshine, that just about makes my day."
"Shut up," she said, but the tone was playful rather than aggressive, and she walked past him towards the caves.
"How's the hangover?"
"I've had worse." She didn't add anything for a couple hundred yards, at which point she spoke up. "You know, let's just let people wonder about tonight."
"Wasn't plannin' to shed any light on it."
"Good."
And he wondered that she wanted to make the halfwit suffer so much, but it was none of his business, they'd agreed to that and he'd reminded her as much. He'd let her play her games, and she'd let him play his, and with a bit of luck they'd survive craphole island and maybe then, maybe once they were back in civilisation, they'd fuck once, just to know, before heading off their own ways, to try and gather the broken shards of their old lives and make new ones out of them.
When they got to the caves Boone was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Kate. Jack was there and barely spared them a glance. Shannon didn't stop walking and Sawyer followed suit, and together they headed for the beach. When they stepped out of the jungle a few eyes were on them. Sayid was working on something, and Boone and Locke were talking together, so they put on a show. Shannon flashed him a bright smile, and Sawyer gave her a smirk and a wink, and he headed for his tent and she for her usual spot in the sun. Sayid watched Sawyer darkly, then turned away and went resolutely back to his business. Boone glared at him, glanced at Shannon, and regretfully focused back on his conversation with Locke.
Later Boone went and asked Shannon where she'd been that night, and she brightly answered it was none of his business, before asking what he actually did with Locke each time they went off together. Boone scowled and walked away, and Shannon felt empty.
The next day Kate brought up the rumour that there was something going on between Sawyer and Shannon, so he asked her if she'd have a problem with that. She shrugged, eyes twinkling, and said she didn't see why she would, and then she walked away. And Sawyer felt empty.
Empty, that was the players' lot.
~~ fin ~~