mmm. domesticity of sort.
today's prompts at
lostsquee are about coming clean in a way, confessing something, being honest and all of that.
the muse being what she is, she gave me a little scene with Jack and Sawyer (and you are surely incredibly shocked) Nothing much to see under the cut, I am afraid.
Lucky Shirt, 414 words, Jack/Sawyer, PG-13
Jack frowned and went through the shirt side of the closet for the third time. It was not there, and that was a crappy way to start the day.
“Where is my dark red shirt?”
“Hmrrh?” Sawyer’s voice was raspy. “Just.. put the blue one. Pretty.”
Exhaling slowly through his nose, Jack looked in the closet again. It had to be there, he had ironed it on Sunday to be prepared.
“Fuck.”
He then noticed the free wooden hanger between the dark green shirt and the blue one. Turning to the bed with his hands on his hips, Jack let the name fall like an accusation.
“Sawyer.”
The culprit had the decency to look sheepish, but then took the comforter and pulled it over his head. His voice was now muffled.
“Just - put the blue one.”
Jack threw his hands in the air.
“But it’s my lucky shirt! You know how important this interview is! What did you do?”
Sawyer emerged, sheepish now turned into defiant.
“Ever noticed I can’t wait to jump you when you’re wearing it?” He had, actually. Sawyer continued. “Last night, I found myself going through your stuff.” He sighed loudly and threw the covers over his head again. “It’s in the laundry bin, you do the math.”
Blinking, Jack felt his anger fading away as that meant without a doubt “I miss you.” in Sawyer-speak. Sitting down on the bed, Jack put his hand on the lump he knew was Sawyer’s leg.
“I… You said that you understood.”
Sawyer pushed the covers away again and nodded.
“I do. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
With a shrug, Sawyer closed his eyes. It was another kind of hiding, he probably knew how much his eyes gave him away.
“What would be the upside of living with a guy if I acted like a needy bitch?”
It was endearing, this blatant weakness in the armor. Jack saw it as a sign of investment in their relationship and he loved it. He passed a hand in the golden hair, and Sawyer rubbed his head in Jack’s palm like a cat. Jack then kissed him softly, pulling away when it threatened to become more.
“You’d be my needy bitch.” He whispered.
Sawyer breathed in deeply and there was a trace of dimples when he asked:
“Can I have a fur coat?”
Jack laughed out loud and promised himself he’d be home early. Possible promotion be damned.
lostsquee are about coming clean in a way, confessing something, being honest and all of that.
the muse being what she is, she gave me a little scene with Jack and Sawyer (and you are surely incredibly shocked) Nothing much to see under the cut, I am afraid.
Lucky Shirt, 414 words, Jack/Sawyer, PG-13
Jack frowned and went through the shirt side of the closet for the third time. It was not there, and that was a crappy way to start the day.
“Where is my dark red shirt?”
“Hmrrh?” Sawyer’s voice was raspy. “Just.. put the blue one. Pretty.”
Exhaling slowly through his nose, Jack looked in the closet again. It had to be there, he had ironed it on Sunday to be prepared.
“Fuck.”
He then noticed the free wooden hanger between the dark green shirt and the blue one. Turning to the bed with his hands on his hips, Jack let the name fall like an accusation.
“Sawyer.”
The culprit had the decency to look sheepish, but then took the comforter and pulled it over his head. His voice was now muffled.
“Just - put the blue one.”
Jack threw his hands in the air.
“But it’s my lucky shirt! You know how important this interview is! What did you do?”
Sawyer emerged, sheepish now turned into defiant.
“Ever noticed I can’t wait to jump you when you’re wearing it?” He had, actually. Sawyer continued. “Last night, I found myself going through your stuff.” He sighed loudly and threw the covers over his head again. “It’s in the laundry bin, you do the math.”
Blinking, Jack felt his anger fading away as that meant without a doubt “I miss you.” in Sawyer-speak. Sitting down on the bed, Jack put his hand on the lump he knew was Sawyer’s leg.
“I… You said that you understood.”
Sawyer pushed the covers away again and nodded.
“I do. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
With a shrug, Sawyer closed his eyes. It was another kind of hiding, he probably knew how much his eyes gave him away.
“What would be the upside of living with a guy if I acted like a needy bitch?”
It was endearing, this blatant weakness in the armor. Jack saw it as a sign of investment in their relationship and he loved it. He passed a hand in the golden hair, and Sawyer rubbed his head in Jack’s palm like a cat. Jack then kissed him softly, pulling away when it threatened to become more.
“You’d be my needy bitch.” He whispered.
Sawyer breathed in deeply and there was a trace of dimples when he asked:
“Can I have a fur coat?”
Jack laughed out loud and promised himself he’d be home early. Possible promotion be damned.