claire, sawyer
hastily written: i don't love it, you don't read it-deal?
i apologize in advance for this week
claire, sawyer
PG
appx 1100 words
set mid to late season 2
yes, i do realize that sawyer+baby= diabetic coma (the square root of which is shameless fangirling)
It had taken her a couple of weeks to get him to hold Aaron. He was like a lot of men who had never dealt with a baby before: he looked at the child skeptically, something between annoyed and incredulous, but that only partially veiled his terror--how did a person hold one of those without doing it some sort of damage?
But she eventually wore him down, not with pestering him but by proving to him that Aaron trusted him not to drop him. It had nothing to do with logic, only with the idea that Aaron instinctively responded to something in Sawyer's voice, maybe the musicality of his drawl, or the way it seemed smooth when he was speaking softly, harnessing his attitude. Or maybe Aaron liked the firmness of it, the way sometimes his words were so deliberately spat out even as his tone held, flat and controlled. Whatever it was, Aaron instantly calmed when he heard Sawyer speaking. That, Claire said, is something true. Babies know these things. Being a man, Sawyer didn't argue with her; he had a hard time arguing with anything Claire said when she modulated her own voice to sound both innocent and confident.
She'd coaxed Sawyer into learning how to hold the baby properly, but she never pushed him about it. If she wanted him to talk the baby out of a screaming fit, she did the holding. It was only if he wandered by and there was nothing going on with the baby that seemed to require Sawyer's intervention that she cajoled until he let her nestle the baby in his steady but awkward arms. The first time he picked up the baby of his own accord while we was fussing, she'd been too frazzled to stop and be amazed. She'd been walking with him for at least a couple of hours, and nothing worked to calm him down. Finally, she sat down at stared out at the ocean, hoping they were far enough away from camp to keep from annoying the hell out of everyone who was trying to get to sleep. She never yelled at the baby, but she wanted to, so she didn't even open her mouth to try cooing at him; she just sighed and prayed they would both calm down. She knew it was bad if she was quick to feel her nerves jump every time the baby kicked its legs out and wailed, to want to react with a scream herself.
When Sawyer shuffled up, he sat down beside her and didn't say anything at first, just peered over into the bundle in her arms. Aaron responded with another scream.
Sawyer frowned at the baby, then he studies her face. Finally, he asked her, "You slept since yesterday?"
"Not exactly."
He waited another beat, long enough for another jarring outburst from the baby, then he stood up, motioning impatiently at her to join him. "Give 'im here."
"No, that's okay, Sawyer, that's-"
"Let me take the baby for a little while."
"Maybe you could just go get a book and-"
"Claire, I'm taking that baby off your hands. You need a break."
"Mothers don't get breaks."
"Like hell. Even single mothers got people to help them sometimes. Neighbors, uncles."
"Which are you?"
He just halfway rolled his eyes and motioned for her to stand up again. She did, but she didn't pass Aaron over, not yet. She said, "You don’t have to-"
"Ain't the point. Now, do you or do you not think I'm capable of holding onto this kid while you get some of your sanity back?"
It was a dig, but it was a serious question. She felt her face relax. "Yes. Perfectly capable."
"Good. Hopefully, by the time you find us again, I'll have him asleep. I've got a book on do-it-yourself plumbing that ought to do the charm."
"Thanks, Sawyer. You come find me if you need me."
He just looked at her as if to say, don't worry, darlin', I will. She was afraid he would have to sooner than he thought.
Claire sat at the shore for a long time, too keyed up to sleep, even if that's all she wanted to do. Not that she really could anyway, given that this was only a temporary break. It was too quiet there in the darkness, away from the camp, so she forced herself to listen to all the tones of the sound of the ocean, the ones she normally blocked out, and she soon found herself lulled almost into a stupor--not exactly relaxed, but at least not so jumpy.
Finally, resolutely, she pulled herself up and trudged toward Sawyer's tent. Once she was near it, she listened for the sound of his voice reading, but what she heard was softer. She got closer, and she knew he was singing, just barely above a whisper; she couldn't hear the words. She didn't want to break up what she imagined was a sweet picture, or let Sawyer know she'd heard him, but she didn't have much choice. Slowly and with obvious noise, she walked around to the tent flap, and Sawyer looked up but he didn't stop singing right away. The baby was tucked up to his chest, its face against his neck, sound asleep. Sawyer didn't look awkward anymore, nor did he look calm; more like focused.
"I don't want to hear a word," he said, giving her a pointed but less-than-intimidating look, given the month-old baby in his arms.
"I won't tell a soul." Reluctantly, she bent over and carefully took Aaron out of his arms without waking him up. "That's amazing," she said.
"No," he said with a self-deprecating shake of his head then an amused snort. "It's Lynrd Skynrd."
"What?"
"What I was singing. 'Tuesday's Gone.' You don't know Skynrd?" She shook her head. "'Sweet Home Alabama'?" She frowned at him now, still unsure. "'Free Bird'?" Then she nodded, smiling.
She found herself examining the baby's face, his arms, to make sure he was okay-not that she didn't trust Sawyer; she was just so rarely away from Aaron it was always a little strange to get him back again. Then she searched over Sawyer's face. He was still watching her with the baby, curious and rather amazed looking. She smiled and asked, "Are you trying to turn my baby into a hillbilly?"
He snorted. "Nope. Not at all. Now, if I was, Skynrd wouldn't do it. Make him a redneck, maybe."
"There's a difference?"
"Huge," he said, lying back onto his blanket. "Less cousin marrying, more being able to handle himself in this big, scary world."
"Now why does he need to handle anything when Uncle Sawyer's around to protect him?"
Predictably, he frowned and rolled his eyes and waved his hand at her. "Aw, get on out of here so I can sleep."
"Thanks, Sawyer."
"Just don't make a habit of it, gorgeous," he said, this man who had come to her of his own accord.
"Don't worry," she replied. When she smiled, he sighed into a smile and waved her off again, and she carried her blissfully sleeping baby back to her own tent...carefully.
i apologize in advance for this week
claire, sawyer
PG
appx 1100 words
set mid to late season 2
yes, i do realize that sawyer+baby= diabetic coma (the square root of which is shameless fangirling)
It had taken her a couple of weeks to get him to hold Aaron. He was like a lot of men who had never dealt with a baby before: he looked at the child skeptically, something between annoyed and incredulous, but that only partially veiled his terror--how did a person hold one of those without doing it some sort of damage?
But she eventually wore him down, not with pestering him but by proving to him that Aaron trusted him not to drop him. It had nothing to do with logic, only with the idea that Aaron instinctively responded to something in Sawyer's voice, maybe the musicality of his drawl, or the way it seemed smooth when he was speaking softly, harnessing his attitude. Or maybe Aaron liked the firmness of it, the way sometimes his words were so deliberately spat out even as his tone held, flat and controlled. Whatever it was, Aaron instantly calmed when he heard Sawyer speaking. That, Claire said, is something true. Babies know these things. Being a man, Sawyer didn't argue with her; he had a hard time arguing with anything Claire said when she modulated her own voice to sound both innocent and confident.
She'd coaxed Sawyer into learning how to hold the baby properly, but she never pushed him about it. If she wanted him to talk the baby out of a screaming fit, she did the holding. It was only if he wandered by and there was nothing going on with the baby that seemed to require Sawyer's intervention that she cajoled until he let her nestle the baby in his steady but awkward arms. The first time he picked up the baby of his own accord while we was fussing, she'd been too frazzled to stop and be amazed. She'd been walking with him for at least a couple of hours, and nothing worked to calm him down. Finally, she sat down at stared out at the ocean, hoping they were far enough away from camp to keep from annoying the hell out of everyone who was trying to get to sleep. She never yelled at the baby, but she wanted to, so she didn't even open her mouth to try cooing at him; she just sighed and prayed they would both calm down. She knew it was bad if she was quick to feel her nerves jump every time the baby kicked its legs out and wailed, to want to react with a scream herself.
When Sawyer shuffled up, he sat down beside her and didn't say anything at first, just peered over into the bundle in her arms. Aaron responded with another scream.
Sawyer frowned at the baby, then he studies her face. Finally, he asked her, "You slept since yesterday?"
"Not exactly."
He waited another beat, long enough for another jarring outburst from the baby, then he stood up, motioning impatiently at her to join him. "Give 'im here."
"No, that's okay, Sawyer, that's-"
"Let me take the baby for a little while."
"Maybe you could just go get a book and-"
"Claire, I'm taking that baby off your hands. You need a break."
"Mothers don't get breaks."
"Like hell. Even single mothers got people to help them sometimes. Neighbors, uncles."
"Which are you?"
He just halfway rolled his eyes and motioned for her to stand up again. She did, but she didn't pass Aaron over, not yet. She said, "You don’t have to-"
"Ain't the point. Now, do you or do you not think I'm capable of holding onto this kid while you get some of your sanity back?"
It was a dig, but it was a serious question. She felt her face relax. "Yes. Perfectly capable."
"Good. Hopefully, by the time you find us again, I'll have him asleep. I've got a book on do-it-yourself plumbing that ought to do the charm."
"Thanks, Sawyer. You come find me if you need me."
He just looked at her as if to say, don't worry, darlin', I will. She was afraid he would have to sooner than he thought.
Claire sat at the shore for a long time, too keyed up to sleep, even if that's all she wanted to do. Not that she really could anyway, given that this was only a temporary break. It was too quiet there in the darkness, away from the camp, so she forced herself to listen to all the tones of the sound of the ocean, the ones she normally blocked out, and she soon found herself lulled almost into a stupor--not exactly relaxed, but at least not so jumpy.
Finally, resolutely, she pulled herself up and trudged toward Sawyer's tent. Once she was near it, she listened for the sound of his voice reading, but what she heard was softer. She got closer, and she knew he was singing, just barely above a whisper; she couldn't hear the words. She didn't want to break up what she imagined was a sweet picture, or let Sawyer know she'd heard him, but she didn't have much choice. Slowly and with obvious noise, she walked around to the tent flap, and Sawyer looked up but he didn't stop singing right away. The baby was tucked up to his chest, its face against his neck, sound asleep. Sawyer didn't look awkward anymore, nor did he look calm; more like focused.
"I don't want to hear a word," he said, giving her a pointed but less-than-intimidating look, given the month-old baby in his arms.
"I won't tell a soul." Reluctantly, she bent over and carefully took Aaron out of his arms without waking him up. "That's amazing," she said.
"No," he said with a self-deprecating shake of his head then an amused snort. "It's Lynrd Skynrd."
"What?"
"What I was singing. 'Tuesday's Gone.' You don't know Skynrd?" She shook her head. "'Sweet Home Alabama'?" She frowned at him now, still unsure. "'Free Bird'?" Then she nodded, smiling.
She found herself examining the baby's face, his arms, to make sure he was okay-not that she didn't trust Sawyer; she was just so rarely away from Aaron it was always a little strange to get him back again. Then she searched over Sawyer's face. He was still watching her with the baby, curious and rather amazed looking. She smiled and asked, "Are you trying to turn my baby into a hillbilly?"
He snorted. "Nope. Not at all. Now, if I was, Skynrd wouldn't do it. Make him a redneck, maybe."
"There's a difference?"
"Huge," he said, lying back onto his blanket. "Less cousin marrying, more being able to handle himself in this big, scary world."
"Now why does he need to handle anything when Uncle Sawyer's around to protect him?"
Predictably, he frowned and rolled his eyes and waved his hand at her. "Aw, get on out of here so I can sleep."
"Thanks, Sawyer."
"Just don't make a habit of it, gorgeous," he said, this man who had come to her of his own accord.
"Don't worry," she replied. When she smiled, he sighed into a smile and waved her off again, and she carried her blissfully sleeping baby back to her own tent...carefully.