Dance With Me
Title: Dance With Me
Rating: PG
Pairing: Claire/Sawyer
Summary: Sawyer looks for one thing, but stumbles upon something else
Sawyer winced as the branches raked over his still-tender shoulder. "Son of a bitch," he cursed, his hand instantly covering the now throbbing shoulder. His eyes darkened and narrowed. Where the hell was the doc?! Every time he needed the antibiotics, he had to trudge into the jungle to find Jack. Why couldn't the man stay on that damn beach like everyone else?!
Sawyer stopped dead in his tracks when he heard something. It wasn't a boar, and it certainly wasn't that old man. The sound was soft; it could barely be heard, in fact. It was a woman, he knew that much. And he also knew it wasn't Kate or Ana. This sound had a softness to it. A feminine grace. Neither of them had a softness about them---they were jaded and guarded, watchful of everything and every body.
Sawyer moved through the jungle quietly, slowly. He didn't want to scare the voice away. As he neared the sound, he could see a shape. Blonde, lots of blonde. That meant it could only be Claire.
Claire was alone in a small clearing of the jungle. She was singing softly and twirling about, gracefully moving her arms in the air, turning her legs in ways he had never seen. She was dancing. Like a ballerina you'd see in a New York show. Her moves were controlled and graceful. And she was happy.
Sawyer moved a little closer and leaned against the tree. It was funny, but the pain in his shoulder was gone, and Jack was the last thing on his mind. He simply stood and watched Claire. Why had he never noticed her beauty before? She had the classic beauty. The kind where she could be beautiful even if she were spitting mad.
"Dance with me."
Sawyer had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice she had stopped dancing and had her arm extended to him. "Naw," he said, backing away, "I ain't a dancer, sweet cheeks."
Claire smiled. "You could be if you learned."
Sawyer chuckled. "Guys like me don't dance, blondie. Ain't ever gonna."
Claire quirked her head at him in an adorable way. "I think you're scared," she taunted.
Sawyer frowned deeply. "I ain't scared."
"Then prove it," she replied with a sassy smile and extended her hands.
Sawyer mumbled some curses before walking over to her. "If I stomp your feet, blondie, it's your own fault."
"I'll take my chances," she replied as she tucked one hand in his, and put the other to his upper arm.
Sawyer chuckled, despite himself. She was so small that her hand could not reach his shoulder. He would normally feel uncomfortable, but hell, they were in the middle of the jungle on some damn deserted island in the middle of nowhere. And Claire felt nice in his arms. She was small and soft, and his body loomed over hers, like it was instinctively protecting her.
"This is your basic one-two-three," Claire said softly, breaking into his thoughts.
Sawyer nodded. He knew the dance from his life before the island. The conman had to know the ways to woo the elite. He frowned slightly. He suddenly felt ashamed of how he knew the dance. Like it tainted this moment with Claire. She was so pure, and he was so...impure. He spun her out gently and held her close when she returned to him.
"You're a good dancer," she observed, feeling the need to speak. His gaze was unsettling her. It was intense---like he was looking into her soul. She didn't want him to know her soul, how she was a mother who was going to give away her baby.
Sawyer grinned that self-assured grin of his. He was using it to hide himself from her. "I dated a dancer."
"She taught you well," Claire replied softly when he bent her back, then brought her up slowly. They stood there, gazing at each other. The air was thick with things that should be said...but would never be said.
They both looked up and jumped apart when Jack came trudging through the grass. "Damnit, Sawyer," he remarked, rubbing his face with his shirt. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"He was providing me protection while I picked flowers," Claire spoke up, motioning to a small bunch near her bag.
"Flowers," Jack mused. "Nice. Look, Sawyer, meet me back on the beach for your next dose of antibiotics." He turned and left the way he came.
Sawyer looked to Claire thankfully. He'd never live it down if they knew he was dancing with her. He ran his hand through his hair sheepishly and looked down a minute before clearing his throat. "I'll see you around, sweetcheeks."
"Sawyer." Her soft tone stopped him in his tracks. "Thank you for the dance," she said with a smile as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Surprise flashed through his eyes before a smile curved his lips. He nodded before leaving her. Claire smiled to herself as she settled in the grass and retrieved her diary. Dear Diary...
Rating: PG
Pairing: Claire/Sawyer
Summary: Sawyer looks for one thing, but stumbles upon something else
Sawyer winced as the branches raked over his still-tender shoulder. "Son of a bitch," he cursed, his hand instantly covering the now throbbing shoulder. His eyes darkened and narrowed. Where the hell was the doc?! Every time he needed the antibiotics, he had to trudge into the jungle to find Jack. Why couldn't the man stay on that damn beach like everyone else?!
Sawyer stopped dead in his tracks when he heard something. It wasn't a boar, and it certainly wasn't that old man. The sound was soft; it could barely be heard, in fact. It was a woman, he knew that much. And he also knew it wasn't Kate or Ana. This sound had a softness to it. A feminine grace. Neither of them had a softness about them---they were jaded and guarded, watchful of everything and every body.
Sawyer moved through the jungle quietly, slowly. He didn't want to scare the voice away. As he neared the sound, he could see a shape. Blonde, lots of blonde. That meant it could only be Claire.
Claire was alone in a small clearing of the jungle. She was singing softly and twirling about, gracefully moving her arms in the air, turning her legs in ways he had never seen. She was dancing. Like a ballerina you'd see in a New York show. Her moves were controlled and graceful. And she was happy.
Sawyer moved a little closer and leaned against the tree. It was funny, but the pain in his shoulder was gone, and Jack was the last thing on his mind. He simply stood and watched Claire. Why had he never noticed her beauty before? She had the classic beauty. The kind where she could be beautiful even if she were spitting mad.
"Dance with me."
Sawyer had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice she had stopped dancing and had her arm extended to him. "Naw," he said, backing away, "I ain't a dancer, sweet cheeks."
Claire smiled. "You could be if you learned."
Sawyer chuckled. "Guys like me don't dance, blondie. Ain't ever gonna."
Claire quirked her head at him in an adorable way. "I think you're scared," she taunted.
Sawyer frowned deeply. "I ain't scared."
"Then prove it," she replied with a sassy smile and extended her hands.
Sawyer mumbled some curses before walking over to her. "If I stomp your feet, blondie, it's your own fault."
"I'll take my chances," she replied as she tucked one hand in his, and put the other to his upper arm.
Sawyer chuckled, despite himself. She was so small that her hand could not reach his shoulder. He would normally feel uncomfortable, but hell, they were in the middle of the jungle on some damn deserted island in the middle of nowhere. And Claire felt nice in his arms. She was small and soft, and his body loomed over hers, like it was instinctively protecting her.
"This is your basic one-two-three," Claire said softly, breaking into his thoughts.
Sawyer nodded. He knew the dance from his life before the island. The conman had to know the ways to woo the elite. He frowned slightly. He suddenly felt ashamed of how he knew the dance. Like it tainted this moment with Claire. She was so pure, and he was so...impure. He spun her out gently and held her close when she returned to him.
"You're a good dancer," she observed, feeling the need to speak. His gaze was unsettling her. It was intense---like he was looking into her soul. She didn't want him to know her soul, how she was a mother who was going to give away her baby.
Sawyer grinned that self-assured grin of his. He was using it to hide himself from her. "I dated a dancer."
"She taught you well," Claire replied softly when he bent her back, then brought her up slowly. They stood there, gazing at each other. The air was thick with things that should be said...but would never be said.
They both looked up and jumped apart when Jack came trudging through the grass. "Damnit, Sawyer," he remarked, rubbing his face with his shirt. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"He was providing me protection while I picked flowers," Claire spoke up, motioning to a small bunch near her bag.
"Flowers," Jack mused. "Nice. Look, Sawyer, meet me back on the beach for your next dose of antibiotics." He turned and left the way he came.
Sawyer looked to Claire thankfully. He'd never live it down if they knew he was dancing with her. He ran his hand through his hair sheepishly and looked down a minute before clearing his throat. "I'll see you around, sweetcheeks."
"Sawyer." Her soft tone stopped him in his tracks. "Thank you for the dance," she said with a smile as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Surprise flashed through his eyes before a smile curved his lips. He nodded before leaving her. Claire smiled to herself as she settled in the grass and retrieved her diary. Dear Diary...