(no subject)
Title: The Grinch That Stole...Halloween
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Sawyer/Claire
Word Count: 636
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: For
pellamerethiel
Summary: Post We Paint These Pictures. All he really wanted to do was sleep. Claire had a different idea.
It’s unusually chilly and not so unusually foggy (although, this being not too far outside of Los Angeles, it’s more from pollution than nature setting the mood) on Halloween, and Sawyer’s just spent three hours of the previous night first making sure the heat worked (it did) and second discovering that the pilot light had gone out on the hot water tank (and cold showers, while sometimes useful, were not in this situation). So, suffice to say, he was tired and all he really wanted to do was sleep and not be domestic (and he really hated being domestic, but he would for her).
Claire had a different idea.
“It’s his first Halloween; he has to go trick or treating.” She insists, hands on hips, standing in front of him and blocking the TV that was about a few minutes away from lulling him to sleep despite the fact that it was now just after noon. She had decided to swing by on her lunch break.
“Did they even do that in good ol’ Australia?”
“Well they did, sort of, I just didn’t. My mom wasn’t really into it.” There was a serious difference of opinion here, as he looked at her like that proved his point, and she looked at him like that was precisely why Aaron had to go. “Are you really going to make him miss out on a major part of his childhood? What’s next, Christmas?”
Not only had she hit a nerve, but she also made him into the bad guy. And he hated being the bad guy. And her overbearing half-brother would probably find him and kick his ass (Jack was just looking for a reason). So with a heavy, slightly hesitant, sigh he told her, “Fine. You can freeze your ass off out there.”
“We.” She corrected. “We can freeze our asses off out there.”
“Oh no, no we.” He cuts in quickly, as soon as she implies that he’s got to go out there too. “I’m not doing this.”
“Sawyer, I don’t expect you to get in costume, I just expect you to help me take him around to a few houses. That’s all I’m asking.” She gives him those eyes, the pleading ones, the ones he hates because he has a very hard time saying ‘no, absolutely not’ which is what his mind is screaming for him to say. Then she adds a soft “please” and it’s all he can do not to just give in right there.
“Do I actually have to go up there or can I just hang back.” He doesn’t want to go up to the door is his problem. He doesn’t want people to see him doing this. He has no problem with her seeing him do this; it’s just that everyone else doesn’t need to know that he’s a softie on the inside. And occasionally the outside, if it’s forced (or manipulated) out of him.
“You can hang back. It’ll be dark; no one will even see you. I’m sure of it.” She’s lying, people will notice him, at least someone will because he’s entirely reclusive and the only time these neighbors see him is if he’s getting in his car and driving into the city. He has something against the suburbs and the only reason he even parked his shit here was because of her and because of Aaron. Because this is where they belonged. He was second to that. “So will you go?”
Again, that little voice is pleading with him, telling him to say ‘no’, to tell her he isn’t that kind of guy. Instead he concedes, “Yeah, alright.”
And when she holds up the little pumpkin costume she bought for Aaron with a smile that could light up Times Square he knows he made the right choice.
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Sawyer/Claire
Word Count: 636
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: For
pellamerethiel
Summary: Post We Paint These Pictures. All he really wanted to do was sleep. Claire had a different idea.
It’s unusually chilly and not so unusually foggy (although, this being not too far outside of Los Angeles, it’s more from pollution than nature setting the mood) on Halloween, and Sawyer’s just spent three hours of the previous night first making sure the heat worked (it did) and second discovering that the pilot light had gone out on the hot water tank (and cold showers, while sometimes useful, were not in this situation). So, suffice to say, he was tired and all he really wanted to do was sleep and not be domestic (and he really hated being domestic, but he would for her).
Claire had a different idea.
“It’s his first Halloween; he has to go trick or treating.” She insists, hands on hips, standing in front of him and blocking the TV that was about a few minutes away from lulling him to sleep despite the fact that it was now just after noon. She had decided to swing by on her lunch break.
“Did they even do that in good ol’ Australia?”
“Well they did, sort of, I just didn’t. My mom wasn’t really into it.” There was a serious difference of opinion here, as he looked at her like that proved his point, and she looked at him like that was precisely why Aaron had to go. “Are you really going to make him miss out on a major part of his childhood? What’s next, Christmas?”
Not only had she hit a nerve, but she also made him into the bad guy. And he hated being the bad guy. And her overbearing half-brother would probably find him and kick his ass (Jack was just looking for a reason). So with a heavy, slightly hesitant, sigh he told her, “Fine. You can freeze your ass off out there.”
“We.” She corrected. “We can freeze our asses off out there.”
“Oh no, no we.” He cuts in quickly, as soon as she implies that he’s got to go out there too. “I’m not doing this.”
“Sawyer, I don’t expect you to get in costume, I just expect you to help me take him around to a few houses. That’s all I’m asking.” She gives him those eyes, the pleading ones, the ones he hates because he has a very hard time saying ‘no, absolutely not’ which is what his mind is screaming for him to say. Then she adds a soft “please” and it’s all he can do not to just give in right there.
“Do I actually have to go up there or can I just hang back.” He doesn’t want to go up to the door is his problem. He doesn’t want people to see him doing this. He has no problem with her seeing him do this; it’s just that everyone else doesn’t need to know that he’s a softie on the inside. And occasionally the outside, if it’s forced (or manipulated) out of him.
“You can hang back. It’ll be dark; no one will even see you. I’m sure of it.” She’s lying, people will notice him, at least someone will because he’s entirely reclusive and the only time these neighbors see him is if he’s getting in his car and driving into the city. He has something against the suburbs and the only reason he even parked his shit here was because of her and because of Aaron. Because this is where they belonged. He was second to that. “So will you go?”
Again, that little voice is pleading with him, telling him to say ‘no’, to tell her he isn’t that kind of guy. Instead he concedes, “Yeah, alright.”
And when she holds up the little pumpkin costume she bought for Aaron with a smile that could light up Times Square he knows he made the right choice.