Peace and Quiet - Lost - Scott/Steve
Title: Peace and Quiet
Pairing: Scott/Steve
Word Count: 615
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for lostsquee's Queen aboutbunnies, who wanted S1 and likes Scott/Steve (because she clearly has excellent taste!). Set during 1x10, Raised By Another.
Summary: After helping to search for Claire's attacker, Scott and Steve go to get some rest.
They're both exhausted when they finally fall into bed together, limbs heavy and eyelids drooping.
After a night patrolling for an unknown attacker, they've found nothing. Scott feels like screaming and ripping out his hair in frustration - just once, it would be nice for something to go well on this island. It would be nice for something, just one thing, not to fail.
"You doing okay?" Steve asks him, lying on his side with his head propped up on his elbow.
Scott shrugs. He's not too good at talking and isn't usually up for discussing his feelings. They've been stranded on this island for long enough that it's clear no one is coming to rescue them, and he still hasn't told anyone how frightened he is. "We're chasing shadows," he complains. "There's nothing there."
"There could be," Steve says.
And that's the problem. 'Could'. On this island, they don't know anything for certain any more. It's all up in the air.
He misses his life, their life, where there were certainties and they never had to wonder if there was someone sneaking around in the dark stabbing pregnant women with needles in the belly. If there had been such a maniac, out on the city streets, it wouldn't be them out looking for him. It would be a dedicated police force, maybe an FBI agent, someone with some actual training instead of Hurley and Jack raggedly bossing them all about.
This is shit. It's all shit.
"C'mon, calm down." Steve's calm - he's always calm, even when he should be raging, even when his parents turned their backs on him and even when they received dark looks on the streets. "Get some rest. You're stressed."
"You think?" Scott says. Steve frowns at him, the kind of frown that says that Steve will happily kick his ass or fuck some sense into it if he doesn't quit acting like a kid. It's not an idle threat either, so Scott takes a deep breath and then releases it on a long sigh. Steve kisses the side of his mouth - a total tease. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Scott grumbles a little in reply. "Maybe."
Steve lightly punches his shoulder, pulling the hit a little, and if they're not careful they'll start wrestling in a second, even though it's dark and the sounds of a fight would attract way too much attention right now. "We should get some sleep. The camp's still going to be mad tomorrow."
"When isn't it?" Scott asks - and even if this is another case of him being negative, he still has a point. Their entire time on this island has been spent backing up so many mad plans that he's not quite sure what's normal any more.
"You like the drama. Just admit it."
They've had enough drama in their shared lives before the island, without adding in plane crashes and cave-ins and polar bears. Scott had been happy. It had been difficult to admit it then, even to himself, but he'll do it now: he had been the happiest he's ever been.
(He'll ever be).
"Could do with some peace and quiet around here," Scott says. "Just one day with no one asking us to do some insane task. One day."
"How about one night?" Steve suggests. "I could give you one good night..."
And that's an invite if ever he heard one.
With a waggle of his eyebrows, the kind of movement that makes Steve snort with undignified laughter, Scott lunges for him: hidden in their tent, he's content with pretending that this is just another holiday, just another break.
One night: that's all he asked for.
One blissful night.
Pairing: Scott/Steve
Word Count: 615
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for lostsquee's Queen aboutbunnies, who wanted S1 and likes Scott/Steve (because she clearly has excellent taste!). Set during 1x10, Raised By Another.
Summary: After helping to search for Claire's attacker, Scott and Steve go to get some rest.
They're both exhausted when they finally fall into bed together, limbs heavy and eyelids drooping.
After a night patrolling for an unknown attacker, they've found nothing. Scott feels like screaming and ripping out his hair in frustration - just once, it would be nice for something to go well on this island. It would be nice for something, just one thing, not to fail.
"You doing okay?" Steve asks him, lying on his side with his head propped up on his elbow.
Scott shrugs. He's not too good at talking and isn't usually up for discussing his feelings. They've been stranded on this island for long enough that it's clear no one is coming to rescue them, and he still hasn't told anyone how frightened he is. "We're chasing shadows," he complains. "There's nothing there."
"There could be," Steve says.
And that's the problem. 'Could'. On this island, they don't know anything for certain any more. It's all up in the air.
He misses his life, their life, where there were certainties and they never had to wonder if there was someone sneaking around in the dark stabbing pregnant women with needles in the belly. If there had been such a maniac, out on the city streets, it wouldn't be them out looking for him. It would be a dedicated police force, maybe an FBI agent, someone with some actual training instead of Hurley and Jack raggedly bossing them all about.
This is shit. It's all shit.
"C'mon, calm down." Steve's calm - he's always calm, even when he should be raging, even when his parents turned their backs on him and even when they received dark looks on the streets. "Get some rest. You're stressed."
"You think?" Scott says. Steve frowns at him, the kind of frown that says that Steve will happily kick his ass or fuck some sense into it if he doesn't quit acting like a kid. It's not an idle threat either, so Scott takes a deep breath and then releases it on a long sigh. Steve kisses the side of his mouth - a total tease. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Scott grumbles a little in reply. "Maybe."
Steve lightly punches his shoulder, pulling the hit a little, and if they're not careful they'll start wrestling in a second, even though it's dark and the sounds of a fight would attract way too much attention right now. "We should get some sleep. The camp's still going to be mad tomorrow."
"When isn't it?" Scott asks - and even if this is another case of him being negative, he still has a point. Their entire time on this island has been spent backing up so many mad plans that he's not quite sure what's normal any more.
"You like the drama. Just admit it."
They've had enough drama in their shared lives before the island, without adding in plane crashes and cave-ins and polar bears. Scott had been happy. It had been difficult to admit it then, even to himself, but he'll do it now: he had been the happiest he's ever been.
(He'll ever be).
"Could do with some peace and quiet around here," Scott says. "Just one day with no one asking us to do some insane task. One day."
"How about one night?" Steve suggests. "I could give you one good night..."
And that's an invite if ever he heard one.
With a waggle of his eyebrows, the kind of movement that makes Steve snort with undignified laughter, Scott lunges for him: hidden in their tent, he's content with pretending that this is just another holiday, just another break.
One night: that's all he asked for.
One blissful night.