(lost) Bourbon From a Bottle of Wine
Title: Bourbon From a Bottle of Wine
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairing: Sawyer/Kate.
Spoilers: Through "Eggtown."
Prompt: un_love_you - "You remind me of me."
Summary: Gapfiller between "The Economist" and "Eggtown." If he was a smart man, he would have never walked into that room. But he had never claimed to be anything more than a boy with a ninth grade education in his back pocket, and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
The words hung heavy in the air. “Why don't we find out?” Sawyer had said it to her half-jokingly, as if to make up for his earlier behavior, to explain himself, despite the fact that he knew he did not owe her a thing. If he was a smart man, he would have never walked into that room. But he had never claimed to be anything more than a boy with a ninth grade education in his back pocket, and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
He had felt no regret when it came tumbling out of his mouth, but the silence that lingered on afterward and the incredulous expression on Kate’s face made him begin to second-guess his hasty declaration. After a few moments without saying a word, Kate stood up from the bed, an action which Sawyer mirrored, blocking her way to the door. Her eyes fell on his for a brief moment, and he thought he could see a bit of playfulness peering out from behind the iciness that had been present ever since he trapped her inside Ben’s bedroom. She pressed her body up against his and let her lips fall mere inches away from his.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ abo-”
Before he could finish, she quickly slid past him and was out the door before he had the chance to recover from her teasing advance.
“Hey! Freckles, hold your horses!” His forehead wrinkled in bewilderment as he followed after her.
His voice sent shivers down her spine as she hurried away from him. Gone was the cold, hurtful tone that had kept her at a distance for the past few days, and in its place was the rich voice laden with sarcasm that brought color to her cheeks. He had called her Freckles again, and in spite of herself, she found she could not resist. She stopped and smiled over her shoulder, eying him like jungle cat about to nab its prey. “You are too easy.”
“Hey, give a guy a break! What would ya have me do when I finally get you alone in a bedroom?”
“Always one for romance,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes.
He took a cautious step toward her, and she did not back away, but rather deepened her smile as she turned to face him.
“Oh, it’s romance you want? And here I thought you were only after a little tumble in the hay while the Doc is out making house calls.”
On instinct, Kate opened her mouth to defend herself, but Sawyer clucked his tongue like he was scolding a child.
“Now now, Freckles, how many times do I gotta to tell ya you ain’t got to lie to me? Though if truth be told, it ain’t no picnic, you goin’ back and forth like a damned pendulum.”
Kate said nothing, but looked toward the door and then back at him.
“Go on, Kate,” the tone of his voice changed, becoming harsh and merciless again. “I won’t stop you. I’ve never stopped you.”
She hesitated, then without looking back at him, walked toward the door and reached for the knob. But rather than open the door and disappear, she twisted the lock instead. Turning around slowly, she leaned up against the door with her arms folded across her chest.
Sawyer glowered at her, putting up his best front of indifference, but it did not linger long. Soon his eyes were softening and the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk as dimples materialized onto his unshaven cheeks. Kate pursed her lips together to deter a smile from forming as she pushed herself away from the door and made her way to the kitchen.
Sawyer waited a moment before following her, then stood against the wall in the entry way, wordlessly studying Kate’s backside which was sticking out from behind the refrigerator door.
“Ain’t they feedin’ you down at the beach?”
Kate’s head popped up over the door and she lifted up a bottle of already opened Dharma wine that looked more like grape juice than anything else.
Sawyer snorted. “Nothing but the best for our pal Benji.”
“It isn’t airplane booze, but it’s better than nothing.” She closed the refrigerator with her hip and set the bottle on the counter. Sawyer hid a smile at the memory that surfaced with her comment while Kate rummaged through the cupboards for glasses.
“Don’t need ‘em,” Sawyer decided, picking up the bottle and carrying it into the living room.
He sat down on the sofa and placed the bottle on the coffee table in front of him. Rather than sit beside him, Kate positioned herself on the floor and leaned up against the bottom of the couch. Sawyer shook his head and slid down into the spot next to her. He picked up the bottle and took a long swig. His face puckered up slightly as the bottle left his lips and he handed it over to Kate who hesitated before taking a drink as well. She smacked her lips at the sour taste and put the bottle down on the coffee table, giving it a little push to move it out of her reach. Sawyer smiled at what appeared to be Kate’s inexperience with wine and picked up the bottle again for another taste.
“Tastes like church wine,” he commented.
Kate looked at him disbelievingly. Sawyer spotted her out of the corner of his eye and arched his brow.
“What? I was a good, God-fearing, Southern boy once.” His accent seemed thicker than was normal.
Kate let out a skeptical laugh. “What happened?”
The smile faded from Sawyer’s face and something much darker took its place. He took another drink from the bottle. “Momma took a bullet and Daddy blew his brains out.”
She froze.
Hardly a moment passed before Sawyer snorted and handed the bottle over to Kate. “You don’t strike me as a wine and cheese kinda gal.” He glanced over at her as if sizing her up. “Tequila?”
Kate knew better than to address the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability Sawyer had let slip through his rough veneer and shook her head. “Bourbon.”
Sawyer looked impressed. “I can try, but I just don’t see you lost in a Bourbon haze.”
Kate shrugged as the words tumbled out of her mouth, caught up in a memory. “I was thirteen. Tom’s father was a doctor. Worked late nights. So we’d break into his liquor cabinet and run off to our tree. We’d only ever take sips. Didn’t want his old man to know what we’d done; but ever since then, I have loved the taste of Bourbon.” The glazed over look in her eyes subsided as tears surfaced in the corners of her eyes.
Sawyer was aware of her sudden onset of misery, but still he pressed her. This was the most she had ever spoken about herself. “Who’s Tom?”
She blinked and looked over at Sawyer as if she had misheard him. “What?” He said nothing, and continued to look at her. She was silent, but his stare was unsettling and finally she proclaimed, “The man I lo…” She stopped herself. “The man I killed.” She took a drink from the bottle and set it back on the table. “One of them, anyway.”
Sawyer continued to watch her after she spoke, watched as a solitary tear trailed down her freckled cheeks, and he was immediately sorry he had asked. Not because he was certain he had caused her pain, but because he hated to see her like this. Wounded. Exposed. Soft. He chose his words carefully. “Well, ain’t that sweet.”
Kate’s eyes immediately filled with rage, and she glared at him incredulously. But when she met his eyes she could see that they were filled with something that looked like sympathy. She turned her head and looked away, but Sawyer reached out and curled his finger under her chin to turn her face back to him. Her eyes were still brimming with tears, but she quickly pushed them back and stared Sawyer down defiantly. He let his hand fall from her face and shook his head.
“Why’re you really here, Freckles?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.
She did not respond, but lay her head down on his shoulder, and he instinctively draped his arm around her and pulled her close to his chest. At that moment, he seemed to understand her need to run-it kept the demons at bay. He knew the feeling. And yet, the more he ran, the more he was chased by new demons, new cruel acts that would haunt him no matter where he tried to hide. He guessed that Kate had not yet come to understand that. But she would. Maybe then she would stay. Or maybe it would be too late.
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairing: Sawyer/Kate.
Spoilers: Through "Eggtown."
Prompt: un_love_you - "You remind me of me."
Summary: Gapfiller between "The Economist" and "Eggtown." If he was a smart man, he would have never walked into that room. But he had never claimed to be anything more than a boy with a ninth grade education in his back pocket, and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
The words hung heavy in the air. “Why don't we find out?” Sawyer had said it to her half-jokingly, as if to make up for his earlier behavior, to explain himself, despite the fact that he knew he did not owe her a thing. If he was a smart man, he would have never walked into that room. But he had never claimed to be anything more than a boy with a ninth grade education in his back pocket, and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
He had felt no regret when it came tumbling out of his mouth, but the silence that lingered on afterward and the incredulous expression on Kate’s face made him begin to second-guess his hasty declaration. After a few moments without saying a word, Kate stood up from the bed, an action which Sawyer mirrored, blocking her way to the door. Her eyes fell on his for a brief moment, and he thought he could see a bit of playfulness peering out from behind the iciness that had been present ever since he trapped her inside Ben’s bedroom. She pressed her body up against his and let her lips fall mere inches away from his.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ abo-”
Before he could finish, she quickly slid past him and was out the door before he had the chance to recover from her teasing advance.
“Hey! Freckles, hold your horses!” His forehead wrinkled in bewilderment as he followed after her.
His voice sent shivers down her spine as she hurried away from him. Gone was the cold, hurtful tone that had kept her at a distance for the past few days, and in its place was the rich voice laden with sarcasm that brought color to her cheeks. He had called her Freckles again, and in spite of herself, she found she could not resist. She stopped and smiled over her shoulder, eying him like jungle cat about to nab its prey. “You are too easy.”
“Hey, give a guy a break! What would ya have me do when I finally get you alone in a bedroom?”
“Always one for romance,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes.
He took a cautious step toward her, and she did not back away, but rather deepened her smile as she turned to face him.
“Oh, it’s romance you want? And here I thought you were only after a little tumble in the hay while the Doc is out making house calls.”
On instinct, Kate opened her mouth to defend herself, but Sawyer clucked his tongue like he was scolding a child.
“Now now, Freckles, how many times do I gotta to tell ya you ain’t got to lie to me? Though if truth be told, it ain’t no picnic, you goin’ back and forth like a damned pendulum.”
Kate said nothing, but looked toward the door and then back at him.
“Go on, Kate,” the tone of his voice changed, becoming harsh and merciless again. “I won’t stop you. I’ve never stopped you.”
She hesitated, then without looking back at him, walked toward the door and reached for the knob. But rather than open the door and disappear, she twisted the lock instead. Turning around slowly, she leaned up against the door with her arms folded across her chest.
Sawyer glowered at her, putting up his best front of indifference, but it did not linger long. Soon his eyes were softening and the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk as dimples materialized onto his unshaven cheeks. Kate pursed her lips together to deter a smile from forming as she pushed herself away from the door and made her way to the kitchen.
Sawyer waited a moment before following her, then stood against the wall in the entry way, wordlessly studying Kate’s backside which was sticking out from behind the refrigerator door.
“Ain’t they feedin’ you down at the beach?”
Kate’s head popped up over the door and she lifted up a bottle of already opened Dharma wine that looked more like grape juice than anything else.
Sawyer snorted. “Nothing but the best for our pal Benji.”
“It isn’t airplane booze, but it’s better than nothing.” She closed the refrigerator with her hip and set the bottle on the counter. Sawyer hid a smile at the memory that surfaced with her comment while Kate rummaged through the cupboards for glasses.
“Don’t need ‘em,” Sawyer decided, picking up the bottle and carrying it into the living room.
He sat down on the sofa and placed the bottle on the coffee table in front of him. Rather than sit beside him, Kate positioned herself on the floor and leaned up against the bottom of the couch. Sawyer shook his head and slid down into the spot next to her. He picked up the bottle and took a long swig. His face puckered up slightly as the bottle left his lips and he handed it over to Kate who hesitated before taking a drink as well. She smacked her lips at the sour taste and put the bottle down on the coffee table, giving it a little push to move it out of her reach. Sawyer smiled at what appeared to be Kate’s inexperience with wine and picked up the bottle again for another taste.
“Tastes like church wine,” he commented.
Kate looked at him disbelievingly. Sawyer spotted her out of the corner of his eye and arched his brow.
“What? I was a good, God-fearing, Southern boy once.” His accent seemed thicker than was normal.
Kate let out a skeptical laugh. “What happened?”
The smile faded from Sawyer’s face and something much darker took its place. He took another drink from the bottle. “Momma took a bullet and Daddy blew his brains out.”
She froze.
Hardly a moment passed before Sawyer snorted and handed the bottle over to Kate. “You don’t strike me as a wine and cheese kinda gal.” He glanced over at her as if sizing her up. “Tequila?”
Kate knew better than to address the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability Sawyer had let slip through his rough veneer and shook her head. “Bourbon.”
Sawyer looked impressed. “I can try, but I just don’t see you lost in a Bourbon haze.”
Kate shrugged as the words tumbled out of her mouth, caught up in a memory. “I was thirteen. Tom’s father was a doctor. Worked late nights. So we’d break into his liquor cabinet and run off to our tree. We’d only ever take sips. Didn’t want his old man to know what we’d done; but ever since then, I have loved the taste of Bourbon.” The glazed over look in her eyes subsided as tears surfaced in the corners of her eyes.
Sawyer was aware of her sudden onset of misery, but still he pressed her. This was the most she had ever spoken about herself. “Who’s Tom?”
She blinked and looked over at Sawyer as if she had misheard him. “What?” He said nothing, and continued to look at her. She was silent, but his stare was unsettling and finally she proclaimed, “The man I lo…” She stopped herself. “The man I killed.” She took a drink from the bottle and set it back on the table. “One of them, anyway.”
Sawyer continued to watch her after she spoke, watched as a solitary tear trailed down her freckled cheeks, and he was immediately sorry he had asked. Not because he was certain he had caused her pain, but because he hated to see her like this. Wounded. Exposed. Soft. He chose his words carefully. “Well, ain’t that sweet.”
Kate’s eyes immediately filled with rage, and she glared at him incredulously. But when she met his eyes she could see that they were filled with something that looked like sympathy. She turned her head and looked away, but Sawyer reached out and curled his finger under her chin to turn her face back to him. Her eyes were still brimming with tears, but she quickly pushed them back and stared Sawyer down defiantly. He let his hand fall from her face and shook his head.
“Why’re you really here, Freckles?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.
She did not respond, but lay her head down on his shoulder, and he instinctively draped his arm around her and pulled her close to his chest. At that moment, he seemed to understand her need to run-it kept the demons at bay. He knew the feeling. And yet, the more he ran, the more he was chased by new demons, new cruel acts that would haunt him no matter where he tried to hide. He guessed that Kate had not yet come to understand that. But she would. Maybe then she would stay. Or maybe it would be too late.