fic, Lost: International House of Pancakes (Sawyer, Hurley), PG13, for alemyrddin
Right, this is a bit of cheating but I had this one half done for a while and it fit perfectly with the Queen's prompt, so I polished it up while my friend over here had a shower.
Title: International House of Pancakes
Rating: PG13 for some swearing but nothing really
Characters: Hurley, Sawyer
Words: 1380
Summary: Sawyer and Hurley have breakfast together.
Spoilers: up to the S4 finale.
Disclaimer: sooo not mine really.
A/N: for Queen alemyrddin at lostsquee, who asked between things for food. If I manage to do you some graphics when I get the time you'll have some late gifting, too ;) and by the way, I actually checked the International House of Pancakes site and copied all of the menus from there and from wikipedia. Shoot me.
“D’you actually think this is funny, Fatso?”
Hurley bites his tongue in order not to laugh too loudly. Yes, he actually thinks this is very funny and he hasn’t really had fun in a while. More than a while, much more. But this wouldn’t really be the time to keep the count and there’s more or less a reason for which they’re here. A reason apart from being graced with the uttermost shocked expression on Sawyer’s face, that is.
Because, thing is, since they were back the second time a lot of things had happened; apart from Kate obliged to serve a couple of years for breaking parole (oh, if only they knew), Jack leaving with Juliet for Australia in order to exchange excuses with Claire’s mother or so he figured out and Sayid momentarily in London with Desmond and Penny, the most urgent matter, at least in Hurley’s book, was Sawyer accepting one room at his house. Which had been quite awesome, all things considered, since Hurley had had this idea that as soon as Sawyer was back he was going to disappear or something and he really hadn’t wanted it; the less awesome aspect was that Sawyer rarely got out of said room and spent more or less all of his time reading stuff. Sure, when he isn’t there he’s just exactly as he was back on the island, or at least the sarcasm is all there. Which isn’t actually that bad, Sawyer could be doing something worse than reading. By now, Hurley kind of treasures nicknames, but point is, he isn’t liking this way things are going much, especially because it’s the same as staying on his own and he hasn’t made Sawyer the proposal completely out of charity.
Well, not charity in that sense but you know, you get tired of ghosts for company after a while, and he hasn’t seen one since they were back anyway. Not that he particularly missed any of them except for Charlie, but that was another matter altogether. Hurley had sort of foreseen that Sawyer wasn’t surely going to turn into a sort of modern James Stewart out of It’s a Wonderful Life as soon as he was back into civilization, but he has this impression that the current situation isn’t healty for the both of them, not really. And so as soon as he had the idea he ran with it.
So, this morning he just woke Sawyer up, dragged him out without breakfast (because that was the target), forced him on the Camaro’s passenger seat and, ignoring each question, drove up to Toluca Lake.
Where they were now anyway, in front of the very first International House of Pancakes restaurant ever opened.
“Well, ain’t you answerin’ now?”
“Right, man, yeah. I find it very funny. Mosty ‘cause of, well, your face right now. And when you’re done I’d like to, you know, have breakfast. Because I don’t know about you, dude, but I’d like some.”
“Jesus. The International House of Pancakes. Can’t believe you actually remember that.”
“Looks like my memory is better than you figured. So, you’re coming or not?”
“Fine, fine, I’m comin’. As you say.”
They get into the restaurant and sit at the first free table; thankfully there are two menus and Hurley can feel his stomach sort of suffer as soon as he reads the first couple of choices. God, between Santa Rosa, Ben, Sayid, crazy trips and the island all over again, he has really missed some good pancake.
“Dude, what are you getting?” he asks, trying not to laugh when he sees that Sawyer has taken out the glasses in order to read the menu.
“The heck of a question is it? I’m at the International House of Pancakes, I’m havin’ a pancake. Jesus. What the hell’s all the rest anyway? Last time I was in one, they only had pancakes.”
“Like... in the Eighties or something, dude. They’ve been having the other menus for... years. I guess.”
“Well, fine, it was some time ago. So what? I’m havin’ a pancake anyway. Oh well, Original Buttermilk ones for me.”
“Dude. The ones with authentic country flavor?”
“And so what? That’d be the original!”
“Right. Fine. I’m having the Chocolate Chip ones.”
“Jesus, now that’s sickeningly sweet.”
“So what? It’s my breakfast, man.”
“Right, right, just go and order this stuff, won’t you?”
Hurley rolls his eyes and stands up, then calls the first waitress he sees and sits back as soon as she takes the order. Then looks back at Sawyer, who still has the glasses on and is flipping through the menu, shaking his head at every page.
“What’s the matter?”
“Goddamnit. International House of Pancakes For Me: delicious choices for people watchin’ their carbs, fat or calories? What the heck is this? That completely defeats the purpose of the place.”
“Dude, keep your voice down. There’s, you know, people.”
“Like I give a damn. Geez, Chicken Florentine Crepes? With all this other stuff they probably can’t even do pancakes right.”
“Sure, well, you’re going to try in a second. Here she comes.”
Hurley doesn’t blink when Sawyer pours very generously some blueberry syrup that already was on the table over his original pancakes or whatever it is, while he leaves his own alone; fruit syrup and chocolate isn’t really a good combination. Like, not.
Now of course his Chocolate Chips are delicious; like, they added some chocolate filling in from last time he had some and he figures he should go slow and savor all four of them. Even if he can’t help giving himself a thumbs up when he sees that Sawyer has already eaten two of his while he has barely finished his first one.
“So, changed idea?”
“What?”
“You said they probably couldn’t do good pancakes anymore.”
“Well, everybody’s wrong sometimes.”
Hurley just nods and gets his attention back on his oh-so-delicious breakfast, eating it just as slowly as he can. When he’s over and that dark chocolate flavor is totally present in the back of his throat, not that he complains, he grabs a tissue from his plate and carefully wipes his lips; then he looks up and well, he really has to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Man, you’ve got bluberry syrup all over your cheek.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Why? Violet looks nice on you.”
He chuckles again at the glare Sawyer sends him before grabbing his tissue again and wiping the violet stain away from his skin.
“Now?”
“Gone.”
“Great.”
“And chill out. No one’s going to care.”
“Yeah, sure. So what now?”
“Well, I didn’t really have a plan. Apart from this, I mean. Either we go home or...”
“Or?”
“I dunno. You can see if there’s some morning screening at a cinema on that newspaper behind you. Or you can have another pancake. Your pick, man, whatever you want.”
“Well, choose a movie. Haven’t been to the cinema in a while, I’d just might like one.”
Sawyer reaches behind him and hands Hurley the first free newspaper of a bunch that was for grabs in a table near theirs and Hurley scans the titles. His lips curl up into a smile when he finds one that he thinks might just suit his plan of getting Sawyer very annoyed.
“Dude, I’d say Live Free or Die Hard.”
“What? Is that the second?”
“No, the fourth.”
“Since when they made a fourth Die Hard movie?”
“Looks like they did.”
“Fuck. That has to be horrible.”
“That’s exactly why we should go see it.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes, takes the receipt that the waitress left on the tray and mumbles fine while he goes to pay; Hurley waits for him at the entrance when he sees that he’s coming back with a bag in his hands.
“What’s in there?” he asks heading towards the car.
“A portion of Strawberry Banana pancakes and one of Double Blueberry, Hugo.”
“And why did you... well... buy those?”
“Well, you really wanna go watch that thing without somethin’ sweet to get your mind off it?”
Hurley doesn’t even answer and gets into the car; he figures that not even Sawyer can resist the International House of Pancakes, not like it’s a bad thing. Not really. Matter of fact, it’s pretty much awesome.
End.
Title: International House of Pancakes
Rating: PG13 for some swearing but nothing really
Characters: Hurley, Sawyer
Words: 1380
Summary: Sawyer and Hurley have breakfast together.
Spoilers: up to the S4 finale.
Disclaimer: sooo not mine really.
A/N: for Queen alemyrddin at lostsquee, who asked between things for food. If I manage to do you some graphics when I get the time you'll have some late gifting, too ;) and by the way, I actually checked the International House of Pancakes site and copied all of the menus from there and from wikipedia. Shoot me.
“D’you actually think this is funny, Fatso?”
Hurley bites his tongue in order not to laugh too loudly. Yes, he actually thinks this is very funny and he hasn’t really had fun in a while. More than a while, much more. But this wouldn’t really be the time to keep the count and there’s more or less a reason for which they’re here. A reason apart from being graced with the uttermost shocked expression on Sawyer’s face, that is.
Because, thing is, since they were back the second time a lot of things had happened; apart from Kate obliged to serve a couple of years for breaking parole (oh, if only they knew), Jack leaving with Juliet for Australia in order to exchange excuses with Claire’s mother or so he figured out and Sayid momentarily in London with Desmond and Penny, the most urgent matter, at least in Hurley’s book, was Sawyer accepting one room at his house. Which had been quite awesome, all things considered, since Hurley had had this idea that as soon as Sawyer was back he was going to disappear or something and he really hadn’t wanted it; the less awesome aspect was that Sawyer rarely got out of said room and spent more or less all of his time reading stuff. Sure, when he isn’t there he’s just exactly as he was back on the island, or at least the sarcasm is all there. Which isn’t actually that bad, Sawyer could be doing something worse than reading. By now, Hurley kind of treasures nicknames, but point is, he isn’t liking this way things are going much, especially because it’s the same as staying on his own and he hasn’t made Sawyer the proposal completely out of charity.
Well, not charity in that sense but you know, you get tired of ghosts for company after a while, and he hasn’t seen one since they were back anyway. Not that he particularly missed any of them except for Charlie, but that was another matter altogether. Hurley had sort of foreseen that Sawyer wasn’t surely going to turn into a sort of modern James Stewart out of It’s a Wonderful Life as soon as he was back into civilization, but he has this impression that the current situation isn’t healty for the both of them, not really. And so as soon as he had the idea he ran with it.
So, this morning he just woke Sawyer up, dragged him out without breakfast (because that was the target), forced him on the Camaro’s passenger seat and, ignoring each question, drove up to Toluca Lake.
Where they were now anyway, in front of the very first International House of Pancakes restaurant ever opened.
“Well, ain’t you answerin’ now?”
“Right, man, yeah. I find it very funny. Mosty ‘cause of, well, your face right now. And when you’re done I’d like to, you know, have breakfast. Because I don’t know about you, dude, but I’d like some.”
“Jesus. The International House of Pancakes. Can’t believe you actually remember that.”
“Looks like my memory is better than you figured. So, you’re coming or not?”
“Fine, fine, I’m comin’. As you say.”
They get into the restaurant and sit at the first free table; thankfully there are two menus and Hurley can feel his stomach sort of suffer as soon as he reads the first couple of choices. God, between Santa Rosa, Ben, Sayid, crazy trips and the island all over again, he has really missed some good pancake.
“Dude, what are you getting?” he asks, trying not to laugh when he sees that Sawyer has taken out the glasses in order to read the menu.
“The heck of a question is it? I’m at the International House of Pancakes, I’m havin’ a pancake. Jesus. What the hell’s all the rest anyway? Last time I was in one, they only had pancakes.”
“Like... in the Eighties or something, dude. They’ve been having the other menus for... years. I guess.”
“Well, fine, it was some time ago. So what? I’m havin’ a pancake anyway. Oh well, Original Buttermilk ones for me.”
“Dude. The ones with authentic country flavor?”
“And so what? That’d be the original!”
“Right. Fine. I’m having the Chocolate Chip ones.”
“Jesus, now that’s sickeningly sweet.”
“So what? It’s my breakfast, man.”
“Right, right, just go and order this stuff, won’t you?”
Hurley rolls his eyes and stands up, then calls the first waitress he sees and sits back as soon as she takes the order. Then looks back at Sawyer, who still has the glasses on and is flipping through the menu, shaking his head at every page.
“What’s the matter?”
“Goddamnit. International House of Pancakes For Me: delicious choices for people watchin’ their carbs, fat or calories? What the heck is this? That completely defeats the purpose of the place.”
“Dude, keep your voice down. There’s, you know, people.”
“Like I give a damn. Geez, Chicken Florentine Crepes? With all this other stuff they probably can’t even do pancakes right.”
“Sure, well, you’re going to try in a second. Here she comes.”
Hurley doesn’t blink when Sawyer pours very generously some blueberry syrup that already was on the table over his original pancakes or whatever it is, while he leaves his own alone; fruit syrup and chocolate isn’t really a good combination. Like, not.
Now of course his Chocolate Chips are delicious; like, they added some chocolate filling in from last time he had some and he figures he should go slow and savor all four of them. Even if he can’t help giving himself a thumbs up when he sees that Sawyer has already eaten two of his while he has barely finished his first one.
“So, changed idea?”
“What?”
“You said they probably couldn’t do good pancakes anymore.”
“Well, everybody’s wrong sometimes.”
Hurley just nods and gets his attention back on his oh-so-delicious breakfast, eating it just as slowly as he can. When he’s over and that dark chocolate flavor is totally present in the back of his throat, not that he complains, he grabs a tissue from his plate and carefully wipes his lips; then he looks up and well, he really has to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Man, you’ve got bluberry syrup all over your cheek.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Why? Violet looks nice on you.”
He chuckles again at the glare Sawyer sends him before grabbing his tissue again and wiping the violet stain away from his skin.
“Now?”
“Gone.”
“Great.”
“And chill out. No one’s going to care.”
“Yeah, sure. So what now?”
“Well, I didn’t really have a plan. Apart from this, I mean. Either we go home or...”
“Or?”
“I dunno. You can see if there’s some morning screening at a cinema on that newspaper behind you. Or you can have another pancake. Your pick, man, whatever you want.”
“Well, choose a movie. Haven’t been to the cinema in a while, I’d just might like one.”
Sawyer reaches behind him and hands Hurley the first free newspaper of a bunch that was for grabs in a table near theirs and Hurley scans the titles. His lips curl up into a smile when he finds one that he thinks might just suit his plan of getting Sawyer very annoyed.
“Dude, I’d say Live Free or Die Hard.”
“What? Is that the second?”
“No, the fourth.”
“Since when they made a fourth Die Hard movie?”
“Looks like they did.”
“Fuck. That has to be horrible.”
“That’s exactly why we should go see it.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes, takes the receipt that the waitress left on the tray and mumbles fine while he goes to pay; Hurley waits for him at the entrance when he sees that he’s coming back with a bag in his hands.
“What’s in there?” he asks heading towards the car.
“A portion of Strawberry Banana pancakes and one of Double Blueberry, Hugo.”
“And why did you... well... buy those?”
“Well, you really wanna go watch that thing without somethin’ sweet to get your mind off it?”
Hurley doesn’t even answer and gets into the car; he figures that not even Sawyer can resist the International House of Pancakes, not like it’s a bad thing. Not really. Matter of fact, it’s pretty much awesome.
End.