Someday somebody's gonna
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Title: Stuck
Fandom: LOST
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary: Everyone wants to help Jack.
A/N: For isis2015, the loveliest of lovelies. Late fic satisfying the Queenly request for "jealous Sawyer."
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People like to touch him and it doesn't really matter that Jack never seems to enjoy being touched - it never fails to make Sawyer's blood boil.
It's either a sympathetic hand to his shoulder, or a nudge to get his attention. Kate is particularly bad about standing too close, grazing whatever body part reaches, along whatever she can find.
Sawyer notices each and every time. Can't help but want to rip the arm off of whoever does it. And whether Jack is oblivious or not, it pisses him off.
It's hypocritical, but that's something he can live with. He has his faults. They are both aware. Jack spent four months on that island as celibate as a monk and Sawyer took advantage of more than one opportunity. He shouldn't get to feel possessive, but he does.
He thinks - "mine", even though it isn't true, and can't help feeling jealous when everyone else ignores the claim.
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He isn't sure why either one of them came to this party. It was too soon, maybe. Too soon to say "yes" but so soon neither of them could figure out a way to say "no."
Hence the touching, the feelings still fresh. The room seems small and Jack's still the one who got them here, the one still blaming himself for how he did it.
There's something so broken about him. Something so obvious about his pain that it makes every single one of them want to put him back together. They can't resist.
Sawyer knows because he's tried.
Jack is just across the room, pouring another drink. And Sawyer finds himself there too, before he consciously acknowledges the movement of his legs. He's placing a firm hand on the middle of Jack's back before he can think better of the decision.
Sawyer is nodding his head in the general direction of the exit before anyone else can, because he's afraid, more and more every day, that Jack will go with whoever asks.
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They go upstairs instead, and Sawyer wonders how he can feel this young and this old at the same exact time.
Looking at Jack causes butterflies, no moths, in his empty stomach. He's stone cold sober and almost nauseous as they flutter against his ribcage trying to make their way up and out - toward Jack's light.
Even beaten that is what he is - the heat giving sun to Sawyer's darkness. What Sawyer wants now is an eclipse, so they can both go unchanged.
He doesn't feel strong enough anymore to be convincing, to fool Jack into thinking there is hope, that he's the answer.
All Sawyer has are two arms, and a burning desire to convert pain into pleasure. It doesn't seem like enough but he's going to try.
He steps forward when the door shuts and is eternally grateful when Jack doesn't protest. He can't seem to get to the point where he expects it.
Jack used to be a lot more predictable than he is now, so Sawyer doesn't take anything for granted.
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Their lips meet and what starts out tentative is very quickly a battle for dominance.
Sawyer can almost believe that Jack wants him as much as he wants Jack, when Jack's fingers dig into the flesh of his hips hard enough to bruise.
He's probably thinking about Kate or Juliet or that pretty little ex-wife Sawyer met the day of their triumphant return to the real world.
He's probably not thinking of anything, but Sawyer can pretend. Pretend that he's someone Jack needs, at the very least.
Jack's body is on board, angling closer, seeking friction, rhythm, release. Sawyer's body can give it to him. Faster, harder, now.
He'll do anything to get his name on Jack's lips, to hear the sound of surrender, proof that he can have him for a moment.
A moment, that's all Sawyer wants and what he's determined to get.
+
Jack comes apart silently but he doesn't pull away immediately. It's less than he asked for but still a relief, still good.
Even better that Jack is staring at him when he finds the strength to open his eyes and really look.
See. Jack, for the first time in a long time, thinking of nothing beyond the present. No ghosts shadowing his eyes, no lurking fear of the future manifesting in shoulders tight from the weight of the world.
Jack is limp, held up by Sawyer's effort, in between his spread arms and legs. Jack just has enough room to shift until Sawyer's hair is wrapping around shaking hands. Just enough leverage to make Sawyer fall into another kiss.
That's what it feels like, falling. Like he couldn't stop himself if he tried.
Everyone wants a piece of Jack and what Jack wants is a mystery.
But Sawyer's stuck. Here for the long haul. Addicted to touch, and just the possibility of having it all.
Title: Stuck
Fandom: LOST
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm only responsible for their fictional corruption.
Summary: Everyone wants to help Jack.
A/N: For isis2015, the loveliest of lovelies. Late fic satisfying the Queenly request for "jealous Sawyer."
+
People like to touch him and it doesn't really matter that Jack never seems to enjoy being touched - it never fails to make Sawyer's blood boil.
It's either a sympathetic hand to his shoulder, or a nudge to get his attention. Kate is particularly bad about standing too close, grazing whatever body part reaches, along whatever she can find.
Sawyer notices each and every time. Can't help but want to rip the arm off of whoever does it. And whether Jack is oblivious or not, it pisses him off.
It's hypocritical, but that's something he can live with. He has his faults. They are both aware. Jack spent four months on that island as celibate as a monk and Sawyer took advantage of more than one opportunity. He shouldn't get to feel possessive, but he does.
He thinks - "mine", even though it isn't true, and can't help feeling jealous when everyone else ignores the claim.
+
He isn't sure why either one of them came to this party. It was too soon, maybe. Too soon to say "yes" but so soon neither of them could figure out a way to say "no."
Hence the touching, the feelings still fresh. The room seems small and Jack's still the one who got them here, the one still blaming himself for how he did it.
There's something so broken about him. Something so obvious about his pain that it makes every single one of them want to put him back together. They can't resist.
Sawyer knows because he's tried.
Jack is just across the room, pouring another drink. And Sawyer finds himself there too, before he consciously acknowledges the movement of his legs. He's placing a firm hand on the middle of Jack's back before he can think better of the decision.
Sawyer is nodding his head in the general direction of the exit before anyone else can, because he's afraid, more and more every day, that Jack will go with whoever asks.
+
They go upstairs instead, and Sawyer wonders how he can feel this young and this old at the same exact time.
Looking at Jack causes butterflies, no moths, in his empty stomach. He's stone cold sober and almost nauseous as they flutter against his ribcage trying to make their way up and out - toward Jack's light.
Even beaten that is what he is - the heat giving sun to Sawyer's darkness. What Sawyer wants now is an eclipse, so they can both go unchanged.
He doesn't feel strong enough anymore to be convincing, to fool Jack into thinking there is hope, that he's the answer.
All Sawyer has are two arms, and a burning desire to convert pain into pleasure. It doesn't seem like enough but he's going to try.
He steps forward when the door shuts and is eternally grateful when Jack doesn't protest. He can't seem to get to the point where he expects it.
Jack used to be a lot more predictable than he is now, so Sawyer doesn't take anything for granted.
+
Their lips meet and what starts out tentative is very quickly a battle for dominance.
Sawyer can almost believe that Jack wants him as much as he wants Jack, when Jack's fingers dig into the flesh of his hips hard enough to bruise.
He's probably thinking about Kate or Juliet or that pretty little ex-wife Sawyer met the day of their triumphant return to the real world.
He's probably not thinking of anything, but Sawyer can pretend. Pretend that he's someone Jack needs, at the very least.
Jack's body is on board, angling closer, seeking friction, rhythm, release. Sawyer's body can give it to him. Faster, harder, now.
He'll do anything to get his name on Jack's lips, to hear the sound of surrender, proof that he can have him for a moment.
A moment, that's all Sawyer wants and what he's determined to get.
+
Jack comes apart silently but he doesn't pull away immediately. It's less than he asked for but still a relief, still good.
Even better that Jack is staring at him when he finds the strength to open his eyes and really look.
See. Jack, for the first time in a long time, thinking of nothing beyond the present. No ghosts shadowing his eyes, no lurking fear of the future manifesting in shoulders tight from the weight of the world.
Jack is limp, held up by Sawyer's effort, in between his spread arms and legs. Jack just has enough room to shift until Sawyer's hair is wrapping around shaking hands. Just enough leverage to make Sawyer fall into another kiss.
That's what it feels like, falling. Like he couldn't stop himself if he tried.
Everyone wants a piece of Jack and what Jack wants is a mystery.
But Sawyer's stuck. Here for the long haul. Addicted to touch, and just the possibility of having it all.