untitled jack/sawyer
untitled; jack/sawyer; tame; 1013 words
Sawyer’s shoulders ached as he turned the key in his front door. He wanted to come home to Jack with a hug and a kiss, maybe a beer, something perfect. When the door swung open he saw Jack standing half in the dark, his fingers drumming a pattern on the hall table.
“Hello,” Sawyer said slowly, closing the door and taking his coat off before looking around quickly. Being a cop made him more suspicious than he should be. Jack didn’t respond, just moved his hand to hit the play button on their answering machine. After the automated voice and a beep, a woman spoke.
“Hey Sawyer, it’s Jen from the bar. Your friend gave me your number after you left and I wanted to give you a call and give you mine. 555-4815. Call me, babe.”
Sawyer sighed deeply and tossed his leather jacket on the back of the sofa before sinking down.
“So?” He asked, looking back at Jack who hadn’t moved.
“Who is she?” He asked calmly. Sawyer knew his tone, the one he took when he was trying to keep his emotions just beneath the surface, but it gave them away immediately. Nobody was naturally that controlled.
“Her name’s Jen. Miles and I went out after work two nights ago, we talked to some girls and I left,” he explained casually. Jack clenched and unclenched his jaw before sitting down next to Sawyer. There was a small distance between them, normally unnoticeable but they were both painfully aware of it now. If they tried to close it, to rest their legs against the other, any touch or any spoken word, it would be uncomfortable. Sawyer knew it wasn’t the message Jack was upset about; it was their relationship cracking and falling away slowly.
“Jack, tell me what’s bothering you,” Sawyer asked forcefully.
“I hate this house,” he said, his voice airy and choked.
“Okay…”
“I hate everything I remember and everything, everything I don’t.” Sawyer couldn’t respond. He knew exactly what Jack meant, but he didn’t want to think about it. Having those memories of a life supposedly his but one he couldn’t have lived, flashing before his eyes when he’d shook Jack’s hand the first time they met still haunted him and still confused him.
“We don’t have to live here, Jack. Everyone else has moved on but we’re stuck here in this dreadful apartment because…why?”
“Because I’m not good at moving on, Sawyer. Don’t pretend you don’t know that,” he spat out angrily.
“I’ve known it since the day we met, Doc. It’s not something to easily breeze over with you. But you can move on. It’s not impossible. Maybe it’s hard, maybe you don’t want to, but we both know you should. And when you decide to give it a go, to do something impulsive, you let me know.” He stood up and walked away. He wanted to go back and cradle Jack in his arms and apologize for being so harsh, but every step he took away from the man he loved was a step Jack had to take for himself.
Jack watched him go and before he knew it, felt the warm tears on his cheeks. He wiped them away angrily, sucking in sharp breaths through his teeth and pulling at his hair. Eventually he calmed down enough to stand up and get a drink of water. Standing in their kitchen, he looked up and caught his reflection in the window. He couldn’t survive on this. The call he almost yelled to Sawyer was lost in his throat as soon as he opened his mouth. What was he going to say? Was he going to tell him he loved him and he’d be willing to uproot himself and move on a whim? No. Jack was not an easy person to get along with, and this was no exception to his behavior. He could not and would not leave right now. Sawyer needed to know.
He padded down the hall to the bedroom, peeking into the brightly lit room. Sawyer was lying in bed, glasses perched on his nose reading a book. It always tickled Jack to see him this way- Sawyer the tough guy cop, snuggling up and reading some trashy mystery novel.
“Hey,” Jack said meekly, opening the door. Sawyer looked over and put the book down, hands folding onto his lap. Jack stood next to the bed, fingers playing with the edge of the duvet.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to be sorry, Jack. I’m asking you to think about things-“
“Sawyer, stop. I’m sorry,” Jack almost yelled this, eyes shut tightly. Sawyer’s voice faded and he stopped talking, letting Jack say what he wanted to.
“I hate knowing who I was before I met you, and I hate that sometimes I see that person in me again. Little things, like worrying about answering machine messages…they remind me of the man I used to be, the one I’ve fought so fucking hard to rid myself of. I don’t know how you see me anymore, but that’s my fault. You tell me I have to move on? Well, I will. But I’m not doing this alone. You have to move on, too. And I know you haven’t yet, not truly, let go of everything from your past you would have been happy not ever knowing about. Basically, Sawyer, we both need to do this. Together.”
Sawyer was still, eyes pointed down at the foot of the bed. He reached up and took Jack’s hand in his, nodding sternly.
“Okay. Okay, Jack. You want to move on, we’ll move. On and beyond all thoughts of what was and what might have been. You’re uprooting, but so am I. Understood?” Jack nodded this time, feeling lighter and freer than he had in a long time.
“This is going to suck, isn’t it?” He asked with a laugh.
“It’s going to suck so much, man. I’m glad you’ll be with me.” Jack leaned down and kissed him.
“I always will be.”
Sawyer’s shoulders ached as he turned the key in his front door. He wanted to come home to Jack with a hug and a kiss, maybe a beer, something perfect. When the door swung open he saw Jack standing half in the dark, his fingers drumming a pattern on the hall table.
“Hello,” Sawyer said slowly, closing the door and taking his coat off before looking around quickly. Being a cop made him more suspicious than he should be. Jack didn’t respond, just moved his hand to hit the play button on their answering machine. After the automated voice and a beep, a woman spoke.
“Hey Sawyer, it’s Jen from the bar. Your friend gave me your number after you left and I wanted to give you a call and give you mine. 555-4815. Call me, babe.”
Sawyer sighed deeply and tossed his leather jacket on the back of the sofa before sinking down.
“So?” He asked, looking back at Jack who hadn’t moved.
“Who is she?” He asked calmly. Sawyer knew his tone, the one he took when he was trying to keep his emotions just beneath the surface, but it gave them away immediately. Nobody was naturally that controlled.
“Her name’s Jen. Miles and I went out after work two nights ago, we talked to some girls and I left,” he explained casually. Jack clenched and unclenched his jaw before sitting down next to Sawyer. There was a small distance between them, normally unnoticeable but they were both painfully aware of it now. If they tried to close it, to rest their legs against the other, any touch or any spoken word, it would be uncomfortable. Sawyer knew it wasn’t the message Jack was upset about; it was their relationship cracking and falling away slowly.
“Jack, tell me what’s bothering you,” Sawyer asked forcefully.
“I hate this house,” he said, his voice airy and choked.
“Okay…”
“I hate everything I remember and everything, everything I don’t.” Sawyer couldn’t respond. He knew exactly what Jack meant, but he didn’t want to think about it. Having those memories of a life supposedly his but one he couldn’t have lived, flashing before his eyes when he’d shook Jack’s hand the first time they met still haunted him and still confused him.
“We don’t have to live here, Jack. Everyone else has moved on but we’re stuck here in this dreadful apartment because…why?”
“Because I’m not good at moving on, Sawyer. Don’t pretend you don’t know that,” he spat out angrily.
“I’ve known it since the day we met, Doc. It’s not something to easily breeze over with you. But you can move on. It’s not impossible. Maybe it’s hard, maybe you don’t want to, but we both know you should. And when you decide to give it a go, to do something impulsive, you let me know.” He stood up and walked away. He wanted to go back and cradle Jack in his arms and apologize for being so harsh, but every step he took away from the man he loved was a step Jack had to take for himself.
Jack watched him go and before he knew it, felt the warm tears on his cheeks. He wiped them away angrily, sucking in sharp breaths through his teeth and pulling at his hair. Eventually he calmed down enough to stand up and get a drink of water. Standing in their kitchen, he looked up and caught his reflection in the window. He couldn’t survive on this. The call he almost yelled to Sawyer was lost in his throat as soon as he opened his mouth. What was he going to say? Was he going to tell him he loved him and he’d be willing to uproot himself and move on a whim? No. Jack was not an easy person to get along with, and this was no exception to his behavior. He could not and would not leave right now. Sawyer needed to know.
He padded down the hall to the bedroom, peeking into the brightly lit room. Sawyer was lying in bed, glasses perched on his nose reading a book. It always tickled Jack to see him this way- Sawyer the tough guy cop, snuggling up and reading some trashy mystery novel.
“Hey,” Jack said meekly, opening the door. Sawyer looked over and put the book down, hands folding onto his lap. Jack stood next to the bed, fingers playing with the edge of the duvet.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to be sorry, Jack. I’m asking you to think about things-“
“Sawyer, stop. I’m sorry,” Jack almost yelled this, eyes shut tightly. Sawyer’s voice faded and he stopped talking, letting Jack say what he wanted to.
“I hate knowing who I was before I met you, and I hate that sometimes I see that person in me again. Little things, like worrying about answering machine messages…they remind me of the man I used to be, the one I’ve fought so fucking hard to rid myself of. I don’t know how you see me anymore, but that’s my fault. You tell me I have to move on? Well, I will. But I’m not doing this alone. You have to move on, too. And I know you haven’t yet, not truly, let go of everything from your past you would have been happy not ever knowing about. Basically, Sawyer, we both need to do this. Together.”
Sawyer was still, eyes pointed down at the foot of the bed. He reached up and took Jack’s hand in his, nodding sternly.
“Okay. Okay, Jack. You want to move on, we’ll move. On and beyond all thoughts of what was and what might have been. You’re uprooting, but so am I. Understood?” Jack nodded this time, feeling lighter and freer than he had in a long time.
“This is going to suck, isn’t it?” He asked with a laugh.
“It’s going to suck so much, man. I’m glad you’ll be with me.” Jack leaned down and kissed him.
“I always will be.”