Cracky "greatest hits" Jack/Sawyer schmoop for hitlikehammers
ROTFL this is absolutely ridiculous. Prepare yourself. hitlikehammers, please forgive me for its lateness. I hope you still enjoy this silly drabble :D
Even pushing the back door open felt like a burden for Jack as he trudged through the doorway. It had, quite simply, been “one of those days.” Victims from a massive, multiple-car pileup had kept him wired and on his feet for more than ten hours and he was absolutely exhausted. He also hadn’t eaten anything but the energy bar he had managed to grab from his office in his five minute excuse for a lunch break. He had then had the joy of battling LA traffic for 45 minutes. So when he was greeted with the smell of homemade spaghetti sauce, he nearly groaned in gratitude that he would soon have a hot meal.
He rounded the corner to the kitchen to express his thanks to the chef, but he wasn’t able to get a word out because said chef was currently flailing around the kitchen and singing along to the radio. Wait - was that Lady GaGa?
“Don’t wanna kiss, don’t wanna touch; just smoke my cigarette and hush. Don’t call my name…”
Okay, yeah, that was definitely Lady GaGa. Sawyer had gotten into a (rather unfortunate, in Jack’s opinion) habit of putting Top 40 radio on while cooking dinner. This made for some fairly interesting scenes upon Jack’s arrival home from work - his favorite being Sawyer dancing around the kitchen in his boxers to “Single Ladies.” He hadn’t let that one go for a good two weeks, and he had a feeling he’d be ribbing Sawyer for this for even longer as he pretended to pout over his teasing.
Jack kind of loves that Sawyer never ceases to surprise him. He totally had him pegged as a strictly Mellencamp or Springsteen kind of guy. Never in a million years would he have guessed Sawyer’s secret weak spot for infectious pop tunes.
After what feels like the hundredth refrain of “Ale-ale-jandro, Ale-ale-jandroooo,” Jack decided to make his move. He slipped right up behind Sawyer and grabbed his hips and pulled them flush with his own. Sawyer tensed and nearly flung his stirring spoon across the room as Jack grinned and said “Dinner and a show?” against Sawyer’s ear.
“Christ, Doc. You oughta be glad I didn’t send this pot of sauce flying. Scaring a man like that when he’s fixing you dinner, honestly. I should just make you watch me eat this and make you eat cereal.”
Jack hooked his chin over Sawyer’s shoulder and peered into the pot of sauce. The smell rising up from the steam was incredible. “Aw, don’t be like that. I just didn’t want to disrupt your performance.” He brushed his nose behind Sawyer’s ear.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just go get washed up. Dinner will be ready in a minute and you still have hospital smell all over you.”
Jack smiled and pressed his lips to Sawyer’s temple before heading to the bathroom. He had only removed his tie when he heard the first strains of the next song and Sawyer’s accompanying cackling. Jack rolled his eyes as Sawyer sang along loudly, taking some creative license with the lyrics - “CAL-I-FORN-IA BOYS, THEY’RE UNDENIABLE. FINE, FRESH, FIERCE, THEY’VE GOT IT ON LOCK. WEST COAST REPRESENT, NOW PUT YOUR HANDS UP. OOOOOOH! OH! OHHHHHHH!”
Even pushing the back door open felt like a burden for Jack as he trudged through the doorway. It had, quite simply, been “one of those days.” Victims from a massive, multiple-car pileup had kept him wired and on his feet for more than ten hours and he was absolutely exhausted. He also hadn’t eaten anything but the energy bar he had managed to grab from his office in his five minute excuse for a lunch break. He had then had the joy of battling LA traffic for 45 minutes. So when he was greeted with the smell of homemade spaghetti sauce, he nearly groaned in gratitude that he would soon have a hot meal.
He rounded the corner to the kitchen to express his thanks to the chef, but he wasn’t able to get a word out because said chef was currently flailing around the kitchen and singing along to the radio. Wait - was that Lady GaGa?
“Don’t wanna kiss, don’t wanna touch; just smoke my cigarette and hush. Don’t call my name…”
Okay, yeah, that was definitely Lady GaGa. Sawyer had gotten into a (rather unfortunate, in Jack’s opinion) habit of putting Top 40 radio on while cooking dinner. This made for some fairly interesting scenes upon Jack’s arrival home from work - his favorite being Sawyer dancing around the kitchen in his boxers to “Single Ladies.” He hadn’t let that one go for a good two weeks, and he had a feeling he’d be ribbing Sawyer for this for even longer as he pretended to pout over his teasing.
Jack kind of loves that Sawyer never ceases to surprise him. He totally had him pegged as a strictly Mellencamp or Springsteen kind of guy. Never in a million years would he have guessed Sawyer’s secret weak spot for infectious pop tunes.
After what feels like the hundredth refrain of “Ale-ale-jandro, Ale-ale-jandroooo,” Jack decided to make his move. He slipped right up behind Sawyer and grabbed his hips and pulled them flush with his own. Sawyer tensed and nearly flung his stirring spoon across the room as Jack grinned and said “Dinner and a show?” against Sawyer’s ear.
“Christ, Doc. You oughta be glad I didn’t send this pot of sauce flying. Scaring a man like that when he’s fixing you dinner, honestly. I should just make you watch me eat this and make you eat cereal.”
Jack hooked his chin over Sawyer’s shoulder and peered into the pot of sauce. The smell rising up from the steam was incredible. “Aw, don’t be like that. I just didn’t want to disrupt your performance.” He brushed his nose behind Sawyer’s ear.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just go get washed up. Dinner will be ready in a minute and you still have hospital smell all over you.”
Jack smiled and pressed his lips to Sawyer’s temple before heading to the bathroom. He had only removed his tie when he heard the first strains of the next song and Sawyer’s accompanying cackling. Jack rolled his eyes as Sawyer sang along loudly, taking some creative license with the lyrics - “CAL-I-FORN-IA BOYS, THEY’RE UNDENIABLE. FINE, FRESH, FIERCE, THEY’VE GOT IT ON LOCK. WEST COAST REPRESENT, NOW PUT YOUR HANDS UP. OOOOOOH! OH! OHHHHHHH!”