Fingertips - Lost --Alex/Goodwin
Title: Fingertips
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Alex/Goodwin
Warning: May to December (older man, younger girl)
Summary: Maybe if he had stuck around she would have become the demure young lady he wanted her to be.
Authors Note: This was written about 3 weeks ago but I have only just gotten around to posting thanks to my laptop commiting suicide and me needing to type it up again from the beginning. My uni workload hasn't helped.
Enjoy and as always please comment let me know what you think!
Cold, lonely silence filled their perfect, broken home, draining her of all emotion until she felt nothing. Nothing but her heartbeat through the tips of her fingers which were wrapped around a battered leather cowboy hat. A present from her daddy when she had been a small child, that worn brown stetson had been an odd comfort since her father had left. Although she was far from a child she missed his presence at the dinner table and the way they bonded over her mothers notoriously bad cooking.
Her dad had once said her mother was incapable of even baking muffins from a packet without burning them. She had smiled and laughed with him but had all the while felt as if she was betraying her mother somehow.
Maybe if her father was still there she wouldn’t have turned out like she had. Maybe if he had stuck around she would have become the demure young lady he wanted her to be.
She looked at the clock on her bedside table and the steady thud of her heartbeat in her fingertips sped up a notch.
He would arrive soon.
She put that battered old stetson back on her bookshelf before having second thoughts and throwing it into her closet.
Slowly she glided down the stairs her fingertips drinking in every whirl and knot of the wooden banister. When she reached the bottom she couldn’t help but take an indulgent look in the mirror; her hair was messy and wild just how he liked it and the skimpy summer dress hugged her curves in all the right ways. She smiled at her reflection with a self-indulgent satisfaction.
The knock at the door made her shift her gaze up from the mirror to the walnut cased grandfather clock that sat at the top of stairs. She couldn’t see its face from the ground floor but she didn’t need to to know he was bang on time. He was a stickler for time keeping; Daddy would approve.
She flattened her dress against her flat toned stomach; the palms of her hands suddenly slick with sweat. Her fingers fumbled momentarily with the cold, chunky safety chain protecting her from the outside world; or perhaps protecting the world from her. She took a deep breath telling herself to steady down and took a second to try and coerce her rapidly beating heart to calm.
“Goodwin!” The surprise she injected into her voice doesn’t match with her expectant eyes.
“Alex.” His voice seemed to rumble deep in the expanse of his chest.
She stepped aside to let him in and Goodwin watched as she relocked the door and slid the safety chain back into its housing.
“Juliet asked me to check you are okay.”
He followed her as she sashayed into the lounge his eyes lingering on her legs before slowly heading north.
“You would think Mom would have given up checking up on me by now. After all I’m a big girl and surely I’ve spent enough nights alone for her to trust me.” She tucked an unruly curl away from her eyes. “Besides, this place is hardly rife with crime.”
“She’s just concerned for you, Alex. Can you blame her? You know she doesn’t like doing nightshifts.” His voice was kind and his eyes had an almost velveteen quality to them.
“I’m eighteen Goodwin. She has to stop being so damn protective sometime.” She frowns as she pours him some of her Dads scotch - she had stashed it away when he had moved out - her back to him. She caressed the bottle with her fingers as she swallowed a sigh before it had time to form. The bottle was cold and hard against her delicate digits; cold and hard just like her Dad.
Goodwin had taken up residence on the couch by the time she turned back to him, his long, muscular arm stretched out along its back. She handed him his scotch and felt an electric jolt up her spine as her fingertips grazed his masculine hand.
“You should consider yourself lucky; you have so many people who love you.” She hated it when he was serious; she preferred it much more when he teased. “You have Juliet, Ben…”
“Don’t.” Alex cut him off with a pout. “I don’t want to talk about Mom and Dad. It makes me feel stifled just talking about them. Don’t go making me regret having let you in.”
He smiled warmly at her attempt to lighten the tone as he took a mouthful of her fathers - and his bosses - scotch.
Sitting beside him tentatively she hoped she hadn’t scared him off with talk of her parents; she didn’t want him to leave yet. Alex glanced down at her knees curled beneath her before boldly sweeping her eyes over him. As she watched his hand wrapped around the glass she became almost mesmerised by it, wishing it was wrapped around her wrist instead, pinning it down above her head.
Despite herself she felt her cheeks flush red hot.
Goodwin smirked almost as if he could read her mind. “That’s a lovely dress you are wearing, Alex.”
“What this old thing? It’s the first thing I found when I got out of the shower.” Despite her apparent confidence Alex suddenly felt helpless like a young girl floundering in an adult ocean she was unfamiliar with.
She pressed her fingertips together and felt the pulse that reminds her she is alive. It was racing, so fast she was surprised she hadn’t suffered a seizure.
She was pulled away from the constant, furious throb in her fingertips by the clink of his glass being placed on the coffee table. His square muscular hand was still cold from the scotch drained glass when it cupped her white hot cheek.
“Where are you tonight?” His voice was low and laced with concern.
“I’m right here sat beside you.” She had meant it to sound teasing but instead it sounded achingly vulnerable to her ears.
Swallowing Alex closed her eyes against the effort it took not to climb into his lap and curl up in his arms.
Goodwin’s eyes searched her face liquid with the worry that momentarily plagued him as he wondered if she was sick or if he had said something to upset her.
“Alex?”
“I’m sorry” The apology made her voice crack.
“Hey. Its ok.” He kissed her eyelids tenderly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She paused momentarily, her beautiful eyes fluttering open. “Yes. Its Daddy, he’s…ill.”
Goodwin’s eyes grew wide understanding the gravity in the tone as he tried to mentally fill in the blanks.
“I’m sorry, Alex. You don’t deserve this to happen to you.”
Alex thought the statement odd, it wasn’t happening to her. Did he mean that her Daddy deserved it but she didn’t? His voice stopped her thoughts from meandering further.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head taking his hand in her own.
“Now I know why your Mom was so insistent I check you were ok.”
Alex nodded. “She hadn’t wanted to go but I told her that he needed her much more than I did.”
He marvelled at her bravery as he kissed her salty lips. Her response was passionate almost urgent as she ran her fingers over the rough stubble on his cheek. Once he realised what he was doing he pulled away. The chime of the grandfather clock punctuated the silence like a death knell. She wondered what her mother would think if she knew what happened everytime she worked nights and asked Goodwin to check she was ok.
When Goodwin finally broke that ghostly silence he was breathless.
“I didn’t come here for this.”
“You never do.”
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Alex/Goodwin
Warning: May to December (older man, younger girl)
Summary: Maybe if he had stuck around she would have become the demure young lady he wanted her to be.
Authors Note: This was written about 3 weeks ago but I have only just gotten around to posting thanks to my laptop commiting suicide and me needing to type it up again from the beginning. My uni workload hasn't helped.
Enjoy and as always please comment let me know what you think!
Cold, lonely silence filled their perfect, broken home, draining her of all emotion until she felt nothing. Nothing but her heartbeat through the tips of her fingers which were wrapped around a battered leather cowboy hat. A present from her daddy when she had been a small child, that worn brown stetson had been an odd comfort since her father had left. Although she was far from a child she missed his presence at the dinner table and the way they bonded over her mothers notoriously bad cooking.
Her dad had once said her mother was incapable of even baking muffins from a packet without burning them. She had smiled and laughed with him but had all the while felt as if she was betraying her mother somehow.
Maybe if her father was still there she wouldn’t have turned out like she had. Maybe if he had stuck around she would have become the demure young lady he wanted her to be.
She looked at the clock on her bedside table and the steady thud of her heartbeat in her fingertips sped up a notch.
He would arrive soon.
She put that battered old stetson back on her bookshelf before having second thoughts and throwing it into her closet.
Slowly she glided down the stairs her fingertips drinking in every whirl and knot of the wooden banister. When she reached the bottom she couldn’t help but take an indulgent look in the mirror; her hair was messy and wild just how he liked it and the skimpy summer dress hugged her curves in all the right ways. She smiled at her reflection with a self-indulgent satisfaction.
The knock at the door made her shift her gaze up from the mirror to the walnut cased grandfather clock that sat at the top of stairs. She couldn’t see its face from the ground floor but she didn’t need to to know he was bang on time. He was a stickler for time keeping; Daddy would approve.
She flattened her dress against her flat toned stomach; the palms of her hands suddenly slick with sweat. Her fingers fumbled momentarily with the cold, chunky safety chain protecting her from the outside world; or perhaps protecting the world from her. She took a deep breath telling herself to steady down and took a second to try and coerce her rapidly beating heart to calm.
“Goodwin!” The surprise she injected into her voice doesn’t match with her expectant eyes.
“Alex.” His voice seemed to rumble deep in the expanse of his chest.
She stepped aside to let him in and Goodwin watched as she relocked the door and slid the safety chain back into its housing.
“Juliet asked me to check you are okay.”
He followed her as she sashayed into the lounge his eyes lingering on her legs before slowly heading north.
“You would think Mom would have given up checking up on me by now. After all I’m a big girl and surely I’ve spent enough nights alone for her to trust me.” She tucked an unruly curl away from her eyes. “Besides, this place is hardly rife with crime.”
“She’s just concerned for you, Alex. Can you blame her? You know she doesn’t like doing nightshifts.” His voice was kind and his eyes had an almost velveteen quality to them.
“I’m eighteen Goodwin. She has to stop being so damn protective sometime.” She frowns as she pours him some of her Dads scotch - she had stashed it away when he had moved out - her back to him. She caressed the bottle with her fingers as she swallowed a sigh before it had time to form. The bottle was cold and hard against her delicate digits; cold and hard just like her Dad.
Goodwin had taken up residence on the couch by the time she turned back to him, his long, muscular arm stretched out along its back. She handed him his scotch and felt an electric jolt up her spine as her fingertips grazed his masculine hand.
“You should consider yourself lucky; you have so many people who love you.” She hated it when he was serious; she preferred it much more when he teased. “You have Juliet, Ben…”
“Don’t.” Alex cut him off with a pout. “I don’t want to talk about Mom and Dad. It makes me feel stifled just talking about them. Don’t go making me regret having let you in.”
He smiled warmly at her attempt to lighten the tone as he took a mouthful of her fathers - and his bosses - scotch.
Sitting beside him tentatively she hoped she hadn’t scared him off with talk of her parents; she didn’t want him to leave yet. Alex glanced down at her knees curled beneath her before boldly sweeping her eyes over him. As she watched his hand wrapped around the glass she became almost mesmerised by it, wishing it was wrapped around her wrist instead, pinning it down above her head.
Despite herself she felt her cheeks flush red hot.
Goodwin smirked almost as if he could read her mind. “That’s a lovely dress you are wearing, Alex.”
“What this old thing? It’s the first thing I found when I got out of the shower.” Despite her apparent confidence Alex suddenly felt helpless like a young girl floundering in an adult ocean she was unfamiliar with.
She pressed her fingertips together and felt the pulse that reminds her she is alive. It was racing, so fast she was surprised she hadn’t suffered a seizure.
She was pulled away from the constant, furious throb in her fingertips by the clink of his glass being placed on the coffee table. His square muscular hand was still cold from the scotch drained glass when it cupped her white hot cheek.
“Where are you tonight?” His voice was low and laced with concern.
“I’m right here sat beside you.” She had meant it to sound teasing but instead it sounded achingly vulnerable to her ears.
Swallowing Alex closed her eyes against the effort it took not to climb into his lap and curl up in his arms.
Goodwin’s eyes searched her face liquid with the worry that momentarily plagued him as he wondered if she was sick or if he had said something to upset her.
“Alex?”
“I’m sorry” The apology made her voice crack.
“Hey. Its ok.” He kissed her eyelids tenderly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She paused momentarily, her beautiful eyes fluttering open. “Yes. Its Daddy, he’s…ill.”
Goodwin’s eyes grew wide understanding the gravity in the tone as he tried to mentally fill in the blanks.
“I’m sorry, Alex. You don’t deserve this to happen to you.”
Alex thought the statement odd, it wasn’t happening to her. Did he mean that her Daddy deserved it but she didn’t? His voice stopped her thoughts from meandering further.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head taking his hand in her own.
“Now I know why your Mom was so insistent I check you were ok.”
Alex nodded. “She hadn’t wanted to go but I told her that he needed her much more than I did.”
He marvelled at her bravery as he kissed her salty lips. Her response was passionate almost urgent as she ran her fingers over the rough stubble on his cheek. Once he realised what he was doing he pulled away. The chime of the grandfather clock punctuated the silence like a death knell. She wondered what her mother would think if she knew what happened everytime she worked nights and asked Goodwin to check she was ok.
When Goodwin finally broke that ghostly silence he was breathless.
“I didn’t come here for this.”
“You never do.”