Steep
Title: Steep
Summary: And even though he knows it's too late, he can't help but wonder.
Pairing: Miles/Claire
Rating: R
Notes: Filled for lostkinkmeme. New OTP?
Jin finds her on one of his rounds along the edge of Dharmaville. She's shivering and sobbing in a creek, blood running down her arms, both eyes bloodshot, bruises all over her arms. Horace doesn't say much about it. He's accepted the fact that Jim and his crew are an odd bunch, but they don't cause trouble and security's never been better. He let's it slide.
She can't be by herself, Juliet says, smoothing the hair from Claire's face, still finding fresh cuts that leak blood onto the sheets. She needs someone to look after her. Miles, silent and stoney in the corner stands.
I'll do it. Sawyer narrows his eyes, but Miles puts his hands up in protest. Look, I just wanna help.
The next day, she's moved into the spare room Jin wouldn't take and opted to live by himself as soon as he could. Miles chose not to take it as an insult. He didn't need any more male bonding that was necessary. And he doesn't need a half-naked beautiful girl leaning against his kitchen counter, either. But there she is.
Thanks, she says, not looking at him quite right.
Yeah, well, just don't have too many people over while I'm covering for Phil. She laughs, the sweetest noise he swears he's heard in weeks. And it makes him laugh, too. She's funny that way.
Juliet nags at him about her, tries to get something out of him about her state. Tries to see if there's something between them. He swears there isn't, but she's not an idiot. She watches the way he looks at Claire at dinner, in the mess halls, as he walks her back home and his hand goes over the small of her back just ever so slightly as he opens the door and ushers her in.
Claire tries her best to make him uncomfortable. She remembers being a younger person (it couldn't have been so long ago, she reasons with herself), sitting in boys' living rooms, wearing their button downs and rubbing lotion on her leg, licking the yogurt off of a spoon. Miles comes in some evenings and there she is, wearing his tshirt, dipping her fingers into a canister of Dharma cake icing she's swiped from the kitchen. I'm doing laundry. You don't mind. And of course, he doesn't.
When she feels better, Juliet gets her a place in the motor pool. She's surprisingly good at it, the language of the trade sinking in quickly. She comes home the same time as Miles, grease on her hands and in her hair, her cheeks stained a dark black. Each night is like that. They cook dinner and she leans in close as he stirs onions in a pan, running her finger through a stick of butter and licking it slowly. Stop that, he warns.
Stop what? Claire laughs and pulls two plates from the cabinet.
Eventually, he just can't take it anymore.
She comes home as it's getting dark, her hair a mess and her cheeks dusted with black. She walks through the hallway, unzipping her jumpsuit and stopping in front of his room. She hears the shower going and smiles to herself. Stripping down, she opens the door and steps into the shower, nakes against him.
He knows he should push her out, get rid of her, something. Instead he turns around and kisses her, deep. He's keenly aware this doesn't mean a god damn thing, but it feels better than watching her waltz around in his clothes, imagining her out of them. Cornered in a shower, he's sloppy and it's over with fast. Claire turns off the water and pulls him to the bed.
One more time. For real. And she doesn't have to ask twice. When he wakes up the next morning, she's cooking a bad breakfast in the kitchen, burning everything. He throws open a window and they look at one another for a while. I made you toast. But it tastes awful.
I'm sure it tastes fine, he says, closing the space between them, kissing her neck. She drops the plate and it shatters, but he's already gone and she's just as far away as he is. And even though he wants to feel something, wants to so badly, he knows there's no point. Each time they do this, there's nothing there. And even though he knows it's too late (he's been falling in love with her since Jin carried her into the house), he just can't help but wonder if she really doesn't feel anything.
Getting inside her head might be the worst idea he's ever had.
Summary: And even though he knows it's too late, he can't help but wonder.
Pairing: Miles/Claire
Rating: R
Notes: Filled for lostkinkmeme. New OTP?
Jin finds her on one of his rounds along the edge of Dharmaville. She's shivering and sobbing in a creek, blood running down her arms, both eyes bloodshot, bruises all over her arms. Horace doesn't say much about it. He's accepted the fact that Jim and his crew are an odd bunch, but they don't cause trouble and security's never been better. He let's it slide.
She can't be by herself, Juliet says, smoothing the hair from Claire's face, still finding fresh cuts that leak blood onto the sheets. She needs someone to look after her. Miles, silent and stoney in the corner stands.
I'll do it. Sawyer narrows his eyes, but Miles puts his hands up in protest. Look, I just wanna help.
The next day, she's moved into the spare room Jin wouldn't take and opted to live by himself as soon as he could. Miles chose not to take it as an insult. He didn't need any more male bonding that was necessary. And he doesn't need a half-naked beautiful girl leaning against his kitchen counter, either. But there she is.
Thanks, she says, not looking at him quite right.
Yeah, well, just don't have too many people over while I'm covering for Phil. She laughs, the sweetest noise he swears he's heard in weeks. And it makes him laugh, too. She's funny that way.
Juliet nags at him about her, tries to get something out of him about her state. Tries to see if there's something between them. He swears there isn't, but she's not an idiot. She watches the way he looks at Claire at dinner, in the mess halls, as he walks her back home and his hand goes over the small of her back just ever so slightly as he opens the door and ushers her in.
Claire tries her best to make him uncomfortable. She remembers being a younger person (it couldn't have been so long ago, she reasons with herself), sitting in boys' living rooms, wearing their button downs and rubbing lotion on her leg, licking the yogurt off of a spoon. Miles comes in some evenings and there she is, wearing his tshirt, dipping her fingers into a canister of Dharma cake icing she's swiped from the kitchen. I'm doing laundry. You don't mind. And of course, he doesn't.
When she feels better, Juliet gets her a place in the motor pool. She's surprisingly good at it, the language of the trade sinking in quickly. She comes home the same time as Miles, grease on her hands and in her hair, her cheeks stained a dark black. Each night is like that. They cook dinner and she leans in close as he stirs onions in a pan, running her finger through a stick of butter and licking it slowly. Stop that, he warns.
Stop what? Claire laughs and pulls two plates from the cabinet.
Eventually, he just can't take it anymore.
She comes home as it's getting dark, her hair a mess and her cheeks dusted with black. She walks through the hallway, unzipping her jumpsuit and stopping in front of his room. She hears the shower going and smiles to herself. Stripping down, she opens the door and steps into the shower, nakes against him.
He knows he should push her out, get rid of her, something. Instead he turns around and kisses her, deep. He's keenly aware this doesn't mean a god damn thing, but it feels better than watching her waltz around in his clothes, imagining her out of them. Cornered in a shower, he's sloppy and it's over with fast. Claire turns off the water and pulls him to the bed.
One more time. For real. And she doesn't have to ask twice. When he wakes up the next morning, she's cooking a bad breakfast in the kitchen, burning everything. He throws open a window and they look at one another for a while. I made you toast. But it tastes awful.
I'm sure it tastes fine, he says, closing the space between them, kissing her neck. She drops the plate and it shatters, but he's already gone and she's just as far away as he is. And even though he wants to feel something, wants to so badly, he knows there's no point. Each time they do this, there's nothing there. And even though he knows it's too late (he's been falling in love with her since Jin carried her into the house), he just can't help but wonder if she really doesn't feel anything.
Getting inside her head might be the worst idea he's ever had.