Post-Op
Title: Post-Op
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4500
Summary: If Sawyer had been present after Jack's surgery. AU as of 4x10 but still fun...I hope.
This one is for inthekeyofd alliecat8 and invisiblelove I hope it meets your queenly expectations and I do apologize for it being late. :)
^^
The damn Doc had a fever. At least that's how it started. Juliet had taken out his appendix, he had downright refused to take it easy, and now the damn Doc had himself a damn fever.
Sawyer was not impressed. It shouldn't of had anything to do with him at all, but the Doc being sick seemed to have snowballed throughout the camp with the same magnitude as God catching a cold.
The first sixteen hours post operation consisted of a lot of yelling on Juliet's part, though Kate had done her fair share as well. Hell, at one point Rose had even made a roar at him for checking up on Scott's...no Steve's hives. Three hours later someone, he suspected Kate, had slipped a generous helping of prescription sleeping pills into Jack's water. Five hours after that she was complaining he wouldn't wake up and Juliet was mumbling something about an infection.
By day two, the sky had turned dark and rain clouds were rolling in from the east. His head was pounding, but at first, he couldn't be bothered to leave the safety of Isak Dinesen's Out of Africa. Eye strain was a bitch and probably wouldn't be happening if he had a proper prescription. Creasing the page, Sawyer tucked it with the dozens of others he had salvaged; everything from Joseph Heller to Stephen King lay hidden in an old suitcase that was half coming apart at the hinges and had duct tape reinforcing one battered side. His makeshift glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he manhandled the lid tightly shut before ripping them off his face. He could smell the rain, a coppery tang that assaulted his nostrils and hung thickly in the salt laden air.
The beach was deserted except for an older couple six tents down who were taking in laundry as the wind picked up. Everyone else was seeking refuge in the rugged shelter that their tents did offer, not completely waterproof but enough to keep them mostly dry.
Another wave of pain struck him mid-forehead, making him grit his teeth and swallow back the sting pooling in the base of his throat. all he needed was a damn aspirin.
Naturally, the Doc had to make things difficult by keeping the medicine all in one place. It complicated matters that he had to stalk down the beach and into the doctor's tent where Kate was propped up against a pile of blankets. She twitched in her sleep, both legs stuck off at awkward angles and her chin tilted against her chest. He knew she would have a stiff neck when she woke up from the sleep she had obviously been fighting for what he was sure was days. She had done the exact same thing when he was sick and it made him feel strangely guilty and just a little jealous.
Sawyer shifted his gaze to where Jack should have been only to find an empty bedroll and no sign of the sick doctor. He was mildly surprised that Kate hadn't stirred from the sound of his footsteps scuffing out of the tent and kicking up sand.
"Son of a bitch!" the southerner seethed, feeling the sky brake loose in a torrent of water that forced him to squint if he wanted to see anything. A gray haze was drifting over the horizon, Jack among it, just down the beach where the shoreline stretched out into the merciless ocean.
"Hey Doc, helluva' time for a swim." Sawyer called after him, trotting up to the doctor's side when the man didn't so much as blink in response.
"You really think that should get wet?" He pointed to the bandage crisscrossing along Jack's side.
"What?" Jack asked in confusion, turning to look at him with a hazy, blank expression.
"Your wound Chief," Sawyer clarified with a hint of indignation. "Something tells me going for a midday swim ain't gonna do wonders for that thing."
"I'm late as it is," his voice was grainy and weak, but he didn't let it stop him from staggering closer to the water's edge. "My Father hates it when I'm late, he wanted to see me before the board meeting...I don't know if I can..." he trailed off.
Sawyer grabbed him before he could collapse any further than his knees, the bare skin busting open from the share friction of his fall. Jack fought with every ouch of strength he had. He couldn't let his father down anymore, he couldn't let him lose his medical license over one stupid mistake.
"I think you ought'a sit down, Doc," the sandy haired man warned. "You ain't yer'self right now."
"No, I owe him this. I don't want to, but I owe it to him. Don't you understand?" His motions turned erratic as he violently tried to throw himself out of Sawyer's grasp. Now he was puzzled, he felt the waves of heat pressing up against his own body, the dangerous flush that had tinted Jack's skin a bloody shade of crimson.
"Come on, Doc. Don't go loopy on me now," he hissed, feeling the strain start to give on his shoulders. Holding the doctor back was like trying to hold onto a rabid dog, damn near impossible.
"I've gotta get there, she's gonna leave me if I don't...gotta convince her to stay...gave my word I could fix this." It was difficult to hear his fevered whispers over the steady hiss of rain that was bombarding them. Sawyer roughly swat away the hair that was hanging in his face frowning and grunting under the onslaught of Jack's motions.
Something eventually clicked, a vague memory of being caught in a similar position not too long ago. He remembered being trapped in his own bitter realities with that nightmarish heat that muddled any possible thought he could form, the kind that turned his dreams against him. The Doc and Freckles were there, it didn't come back to him fully, but he recalled being thrust into the shower on several occasions, knowing full well the soothing reprieve the simple gesture had offered.
"Is that what ya need Jack?" He used his name this time, a low gravely whisper that didn't prevent the doctor from struggling any less. If it would work the same way on Jack as it did on him then it was worth the risk of his bandages soaking through; with the way he was fighting now he was lucky his stitches weren't already torn.
Jack gave another frustrated groan as he muttered something thick and barely audible. Sawyer slackened his grip, letting the fevered man walk head on into the waves. The surf wasn't overly high making it easy for the southerner to keep the doctor upright by the armpits, allowing the urgency to dissolve from his fever ridden body.
"Can't believe I'm saying this Doc but ya really need to work on getting better here before ya drive Freckles off the deep end. I'm gonna make this quite clear now that if you pull something this stupid again I'm gonna wring yer neck." Jack's body slumped forcing Sawyer to take on the whole of his weight.
"Consider that yer warning Doc," his tone was even. He knew Jack was too out of it to understand a word of what he was saying but it didn't stop him from getting it off his own chest as he examined the preposterous nature of the situation while they bobbed along.
"Besides, you don't really wanna let yer island following down do ya Doc? Hell, all ya really gotta do is grow a beard, they already believe you can walk on water." Sawyer paused to keep Jack's drooping head above the water.
"You just gotta stop trying to fix what ain't broken and get that stick outta yer ass. You ain't yer daddy, Doc. Yer the damn hero that's gonna get us the hell off this Craphole Island. Just gotta rest up long enough to get better and do it is all."
A wave splashed over them as they waded their way in, it made Jack gasp and sputter. Sawyer could feel his muscles tense as the panic rose.
"Sawyer? What's going on?" Jack grimaced, he was wet, cold, and very confused. The other man was guiding him out of the water but his mind felt too disjointed to piece any of it together. He could do little to suppress the shivers and couldn't understand why he was on the beach in only his boxers or why it was raining. His entire body burned, every muscle rendered to jelly as he moved to support his own weight, Sawyer still had a firm hold on him.
"You're running a fever, Chief," Sawyer tugged him back toward his tent, feeling the resistance build in Jack's tired frame. "I think you ought'a take a time out for a little while."
"No." Jack shook his head as he wobbled. "I need to see how everyone is holding up...make sure they're all alright."
"Of course you do," the southerner huffed, noticing how reluctant Jack's legs were to support him. At least he was lucid now which was a start.
"Lets start with Freckles shall we?"
"Something's wrong with Kate?" He instantly straightened against Sawyer, leaning heavily and allowing the other man to lead him.
They met her as she was squeezing out through the flap, panic ridden and visibly shaken Kate didn't look much better than Jack himself.
"What happened? Where did you go?" Both hands found their way to Jack's cheeks as she stared into his hooded eyes.
"Don't know. I'm fine..." He assured, brushing her off with a weak flex of his arm.
"Jack, you're not okay. You're still burning up," she pressed the back of her palm to his forehead. "Can't you see that you need to rest?"
"She's right Doc, I'm pretty sure we could fry an egg on your forehead if we wanted to."
He could feel himself slipping again, forced to squeeze his eyes tightly shut as everything suddenly seemed far too bright. The pain reached a blinding crescendo right behind his skill making him grab his head and sink against Sawyer with a choked moan.
"Jack? What's happening?" she asked in confusion. He fisted his hands and pressed them harder against his eyes.
"Pain...in my head..." he panted as soon as he could get out the words. It felt like his skull was being torn apart from the inside. It wasn't subsiding, making him feel like he needed to vomit.
"Is it the light Doc?" Sawyer observed how tightly he was covering his eyes. They took the low moan he issued as an affirmative and shuffled him inside. He collapsed onto the bedroll, breathing through the pain like it was stabbing him, jarring his insides and making it impossible to think of anything else, even with his fever raging at full force.
"Sawyer, what are you doing? We have to help him."
She watched him digging through Jack's suitcase, tossing clothes this way and that until he found what he was looking for. He held up the pair of sunglasses to Kate who nodded and attempted to pry Jack's hands away.
"Jack," she whispered when he wouldn't budge. "Hey," she tilted her head closer to his ear. "We have something that might help but we need you to help us Jack, take your hands away ...just for a minute."
His response came in the form of a frustrated groan as he let her slip her fingers into the heel of his palms and ease them down. The wave of pain intensified tenfold even though he kept his eyes squeezed shut. Sawyer slid the sunglasses on him while Kate kept his hands at bay, preventing him from driving the shades right into the front of his head.
He then moistened one of Jack's t-shirts and folded it over the glasses, adjusting it so it draped across his forehead but didn't come down far enough cover his nose.
"Any better Doc?"
Jack gave an absent nod, waiting for the next wave of pain to assault him. Kate was ready when it did, gently rubbing slow circles from his temples to the nape of his neck.
"What are you doing?" Sawyer asked with raised eyebrows hearing the doctor give a shaky sigh.
"It works for migraines," she pushed a little deeper, countering the pain before it could hurt Jack further. Kate altered the pressure as she gently moved her hands across his forehead, mapping his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs and finally skating down to his stubbed jawline. The tension in the crest of his jaw gradually melted away with her ministrations, bridging him into a painless unconsciousness as she played on that velvety spot just below his earlobes.
Sawyer watched, impassive even with the doctor's tiny whimpers urging her along. He found the aspirin he was looking for earlier and stuffed it in his pack, trying not to pay much attention to what Kate was doing.
"Can you get Juliet?" She asked, but didn't look up.
"One doctor, coming right up." Sawyer faked a smile as he picked up his pack and left the tent. Whatever was wrong with the Doc wasn't good, that he knew for sure.
On day three he drew the short straw and ended up on 'Jack Watch'. It was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
"Mmmm...that tickles."
Sawyer raised an eyebrow, glancing over a battered copy of White Fang. "What was that, Doc?"
Jack shifted on the pillow. "Tickles," he sighed, flexing his hands around the hem of his shirt. "Feels nice though." His voice was syrupy and thick with sleep.
"Do it like that," he grunted in between snores.
Sawyer blinked and set the book down in his lap. "Having yerself a little private party there, Doc Giggles?"
"More." Jack responded to the honeyed voice as though it was the only thing tethering him to a shallow reprieve, something to ground him just enough to chase all the stress and all the demons away from his mind.
"Please...more." He moaned and squeezed his eyes tighter, fingers playing with the brass button that kept his jeans snuggly around his waste.
Sawyer didn't know why they bothered to keep them on him anyway. The man was in no shape for traipsing around the beach so he certainly didn't need to be dressed like it.
"Didn't know you were that kinky, Chief. She better be hot." His remark was slow and if Jack hadn't been so sick he would almost be amused. Trust the Doc to be a raving sex addict in his sleep, it's probably the only time he gets to get some.
Day four was much like day three in the sense that Jack didn't wake up and Sawyer learned that talking in his sleep seemed to be common place for the doctor. He also learned that he could sit there for hours listening to the man mutter things about surgeries, his father, and at one point, purple penguins.
Doctor Delusional seemed to be an appropriate nickname, but he wouldn't dare say it.
Day five came with some progress. Juliet finally determined that his post operative infection was starting to heal. Jack remained asleep and Kate made a wary joke that he was catching up on all the sleep that he hadn't bothered to get in the past three months since they crashed. She took the day shifts mostly while Sawyer insisted on being there during the night. He hadn't wanted to at first, but decided he had nothing better to do.
"If he wakes up I get to beat him over the head to make sure he doesn't go nowhere." Sawyer had once explained to Juliet and a handful of others when he actually offered to take 'Jack Watch' for the second time.
Kate suspected he was trying to repay a past debut, but kept that thought to herself. Hurley called it 'transference'.
On day six Sawyer found himself actually entertained by the things Jack was saying. His fever had broken at sometime through the night, but it hadn't made him any less talkative.
"Sawyer," he muttered through pursed lips. The sound was breathy and barely audible over the sounds of waves crashing in the distance.
"You finally deciding to rejoin the world of the liven' Doc Van Winkle?" The southerner quipped, mildly surprised that the Doc had been out of the game this long. "Gonna get back to boss'n the hell outta everybody?"
He was surprised when Jack's response was in the form of a firm grip on his wrist. It almost hurt as the other man's eyeballs rolled under their lids, caught in the throws of something Sawyer couldn't pry himself away from.
Jack had been stripped down to nothing more than a pair of white boxers.
"Don't stop," he let out a content sigh and pressed the southerner's hand against his half hard member. The motion made Sawyer start and withdraw as though he had been burned. Jack's grip was iron clad, a calloused, well practiced hand forcing him back to that sweet spot that made him whimper. He glanced at Jack's face, completely mellow and needing the gentle weight that was teasing him into erection.
"You really are one horny son of a bitch, you know that?" Sawyer huffed, flexing his fingers against the soft cotton, feeling the warm bulge against the palm of his hand. It made his heart beat just a little bit faster.
Part of him wondered how long it had been for Jack, doubting the doctor ever found time to get himself off because he was too busy wiping runny noses and comforting old ladies on their death bed. Wasn't much of a turn on, he mused.
With his other hand he absently stroked the tattoos along Jack's forearm. The swirls of red and blue stars were almost mesmerizing. Jack's lips parted slightly when his thumb struck the star in the juncture of his elbow. His cock twitched making him wonder if that had happened when he was getting the tattoo in the first place.
Sawyer tried to picture it, Jack in some up scale tattoo parlor shifting like mad because some dopey employee was unknowingly getting him in all the right places. Jack wouldn't be one to cap the problem right then and there. He wasn't the type for that. He probably be anal enough to not let his dick get to full hardness just on share will alone. Or maybe he'd politely stick it out until he could get himself back to his car, definitely something high-end, a nice Mercedes or a BMW, and let himself go. He most likely wouldn't without a fight.
The southerner could almost picturing Jack ignoring the throbbing need because he was late for some damn surgery. His thumb brushed against the spot again, the doctor moaned. The hand resting over his package felt him swell impossibly bigger to the point Jack's own hands were tugging at his boxers.
"Damn," Sawyer huffed, his mind drifting back to the scene in Jack's car. He decided on a Cadillac just for good measure. Black, of course, a good doctor car. He would hope Jack would get his pants down all the way so he could feel the posh leather seats against his tight ass. It would be quick and rough like the man would never be with anyone else. Long, practiced strokes from root to tip with just enough pressure to make him grunt, enough to push him over the top.
"Fuck...don't stop."
The sleepy words went to his own cock. One of Jack's hands had slid under his boxers to help himself along. He didn't quite have the coordination to manage a proper jerk resulting in something that looked more uncomfortable than anything else. Sawyer stared at the faint drop of moisture soiling the pristane white fabric. Sighing, he hiked the offending object down to knee level and settled his hand between Jack's legs, knocking the other man's hands away.
"This one's on me Jackass," he half grinned as he lowered his head to take the other man into his mouth. Jack's hips jerked upward almost knocking the chin straight off of him. Sawyer cursed, his words vibrating down Jack's shaft, giving a slow, sure rhythm that made the unconscious man whimper in pleasure.
"Please...morefuckplease."
Jack was in a place he had never been before. So damn relaxed and sweaty as the pleasure was being milked straight out of him in the form of a warm heat that coiled in his belly and sent jolts straight to his cock. He let his arms drop like lead weights to his sides, deciding for once, he didn't have to do anything except let it happen. For once in his life he didn't care about anything else besides the warm cavern inclosing his cock in oh sweet bliss. The gentle suction it was producing was so damn perfect he couldn't help the sounds tumbling out over his lips. It was a dream, not real...didn't matter...could let go. Could finally let go.
"You gonna come for me, Doc?" Someone panted in the far distance.
He let out a groan in protest that the tongue swirling around his head was gone. He was cold and wanted to be sheethed in that warmth again. It was the good kind that didn't muddle his thoughts or make it hard to keep track of where he was. He tried reaching down, groping at himself to recreate the pleasure but something knocked him away.
"Need more," he moaned in frustration, begging his dream to let him have release just this once. This was the part where he usually woke up and opted for a cold shower instead of actually finishing it.
"Fuck yeah." Sawyer was too breathy to string together a full sentence. He shoved one hand straight into his jeans while his mouth went Jack's balls, nipping and teasing the swollen globes with his teeth. He pumped himself letting his lips and tongue dance along the underside of Jack's cock in a slow, leisurely manner that he doubted Jack had ever managed to carry out with himself.
"Gotta come, Doc." He huffed, thrusting into his hand and taking hold of Jack with the other. One more firm squeeze and they were past it, seeing stars, somewhere between grunting and gasping.
Sawyer recovered first, wetting his lips and ignoring the dampness that made his jeans cling to his crotch. Jack's belly was in a similar situation so he grabbed a cloth from the basin of water by the bedside and wiped them both off.
"Is Jack okay? I thought I heard something" Kate ducked her head in the tent. The southerner dropped the cloth on Jack's stomach. She eyed the boxers still settled at his knees and frowned.
"Male stuff." Sawyer shook his head and stalked out of the tent before he could say anything else.
"Jack?" She tentatively picked up the cloth and ran it over his face and down his throat. There were tear stains dried into his cheeks and she did her best to rub them away. Her advances across his shoulders were more hesitant. Someone had replaced the basin of seawater so it was fresh and cold. She dipped the cloth back in before letting it linger on the mysterious tattoos on his bicep and forearm. Further down the expanse of bare skin stretched across his light sprinkling of chest hair and into the taunt planes of his abdomen. She didn't go any further and blushed a little as she hauled his boxers back up.
"Sawyer," Jack muttered rolling toward the sensations. "...I love him."
On day seven he finally opened his eyes. The first thing he was aware of was his heart beating far to fast for his body to catch up with. It shouldn't have been, judging by the way he was lying, so still, as though he had just woken up from a long sleep. His mouth was dry and his head fuzzy, making him wonder if he was still alive at all. Maybe he wasn't? But that heart beat, pounding so wildly against the wall of his chest.
Jack tried his best to push himself up, his muscles were lax and uncooperative. He groaned, struggling to bring himself to full awareness.
"Jack?" Kate gazed down at him as she ran the back of her hand across her eyes to roughly swat away the grains of sleep that left her squinting.
"What's going on?" his voice was gruff from lack of use. She could see him gesturing to the binds with a hint of fear in his tone. He licked his dry lips and his brow furrowed even more. "You were crying," he added as an afterthought, concerned.
"It's nothing. I'm just happy to have you back." She shrugged it off.
"Have me back? I..." he glanced down at his uncooperative body.
"I'm just in my boxers. Why am I just in my boxers?" He asked with such utter bewilderment that she couldn't help but smile.
"Kate, what happened?" He didn't wait for an answer looking her in the eyes with a cloudy, exhausted gaze.
"You scared the hell out of us Jack," she breathed. "You've had a fever, a really high one. You've been out of it for six days."
"Days?" He whispered. "I've left all of you alone for days?" She hated the self-hating tone that his voice took on, like he did this to him on purpose. Didn't he understand that this was one of these things he couldn't control, that he couldn't cheat himself out of getting sick just like he had tried to do with sleeping first when they had crashed. Didn't he understand that he was only human?
"Well, Juliet says the infection is almost gone and your fever has broken so your on the mend now." She assured. "Say, did anyone ever tell you that you talk in your sleep?" She teased to cover up her own wariness.
His chuckle was cut short by a grimace that thinned his lips before he opened his mouth and blew out a wheezy breath of air. The motion jostled his body making his abdominal muscles clench and the incision site ripple in pain.
"Did I say anything interesting?" He winced, raking his mind to try and remember anything of the past week. It drew a solid, fuzzy blank.
"Sawyer seemed to think so." She shook her head and grinned. "You said you loved him, must have been some fever huh?"
Jack nodded and turned a very distinct shade of red.
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4500
Summary: If Sawyer had been present after Jack's surgery. AU as of 4x10 but still fun...I hope.
This one is for inthekeyofd alliecat8 and invisiblelove I hope it meets your queenly expectations and I do apologize for it being late. :)
^^
The damn Doc had a fever. At least that's how it started. Juliet had taken out his appendix, he had downright refused to take it easy, and now the damn Doc had himself a damn fever.
Sawyer was not impressed. It shouldn't of had anything to do with him at all, but the Doc being sick seemed to have snowballed throughout the camp with the same magnitude as God catching a cold.
The first sixteen hours post operation consisted of a lot of yelling on Juliet's part, though Kate had done her fair share as well. Hell, at one point Rose had even made a roar at him for checking up on Scott's...no Steve's hives. Three hours later someone, he suspected Kate, had slipped a generous helping of prescription sleeping pills into Jack's water. Five hours after that she was complaining he wouldn't wake up and Juliet was mumbling something about an infection.
By day two, the sky had turned dark and rain clouds were rolling in from the east. His head was pounding, but at first, he couldn't be bothered to leave the safety of Isak Dinesen's Out of Africa. Eye strain was a bitch and probably wouldn't be happening if he had a proper prescription. Creasing the page, Sawyer tucked it with the dozens of others he had salvaged; everything from Joseph Heller to Stephen King lay hidden in an old suitcase that was half coming apart at the hinges and had duct tape reinforcing one battered side. His makeshift glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he manhandled the lid tightly shut before ripping them off his face. He could smell the rain, a coppery tang that assaulted his nostrils and hung thickly in the salt laden air.
The beach was deserted except for an older couple six tents down who were taking in laundry as the wind picked up. Everyone else was seeking refuge in the rugged shelter that their tents did offer, not completely waterproof but enough to keep them mostly dry.
Another wave of pain struck him mid-forehead, making him grit his teeth and swallow back the sting pooling in the base of his throat. all he needed was a damn aspirin.
Naturally, the Doc had to make things difficult by keeping the medicine all in one place. It complicated matters that he had to stalk down the beach and into the doctor's tent where Kate was propped up against a pile of blankets. She twitched in her sleep, both legs stuck off at awkward angles and her chin tilted against her chest. He knew she would have a stiff neck when she woke up from the sleep she had obviously been fighting for what he was sure was days. She had done the exact same thing when he was sick and it made him feel strangely guilty and just a little jealous.
Sawyer shifted his gaze to where Jack should have been only to find an empty bedroll and no sign of the sick doctor. He was mildly surprised that Kate hadn't stirred from the sound of his footsteps scuffing out of the tent and kicking up sand.
"Son of a bitch!" the southerner seethed, feeling the sky brake loose in a torrent of water that forced him to squint if he wanted to see anything. A gray haze was drifting over the horizon, Jack among it, just down the beach where the shoreline stretched out into the merciless ocean.
"Hey Doc, helluva' time for a swim." Sawyer called after him, trotting up to the doctor's side when the man didn't so much as blink in response.
"You really think that should get wet?" He pointed to the bandage crisscrossing along Jack's side.
"What?" Jack asked in confusion, turning to look at him with a hazy, blank expression.
"Your wound Chief," Sawyer clarified with a hint of indignation. "Something tells me going for a midday swim ain't gonna do wonders for that thing."
"I'm late as it is," his voice was grainy and weak, but he didn't let it stop him from staggering closer to the water's edge. "My Father hates it when I'm late, he wanted to see me before the board meeting...I don't know if I can..." he trailed off.
Sawyer grabbed him before he could collapse any further than his knees, the bare skin busting open from the share friction of his fall. Jack fought with every ouch of strength he had. He couldn't let his father down anymore, he couldn't let him lose his medical license over one stupid mistake.
"I think you ought'a sit down, Doc," the sandy haired man warned. "You ain't yer'self right now."
"No, I owe him this. I don't want to, but I owe it to him. Don't you understand?" His motions turned erratic as he violently tried to throw himself out of Sawyer's grasp. Now he was puzzled, he felt the waves of heat pressing up against his own body, the dangerous flush that had tinted Jack's skin a bloody shade of crimson.
"Come on, Doc. Don't go loopy on me now," he hissed, feeling the strain start to give on his shoulders. Holding the doctor back was like trying to hold onto a rabid dog, damn near impossible.
"I've gotta get there, she's gonna leave me if I don't...gotta convince her to stay...gave my word I could fix this." It was difficult to hear his fevered whispers over the steady hiss of rain that was bombarding them. Sawyer roughly swat away the hair that was hanging in his face frowning and grunting under the onslaught of Jack's motions.
Something eventually clicked, a vague memory of being caught in a similar position not too long ago. He remembered being trapped in his own bitter realities with that nightmarish heat that muddled any possible thought he could form, the kind that turned his dreams against him. The Doc and Freckles were there, it didn't come back to him fully, but he recalled being thrust into the shower on several occasions, knowing full well the soothing reprieve the simple gesture had offered.
"Is that what ya need Jack?" He used his name this time, a low gravely whisper that didn't prevent the doctor from struggling any less. If it would work the same way on Jack as it did on him then it was worth the risk of his bandages soaking through; with the way he was fighting now he was lucky his stitches weren't already torn.
Jack gave another frustrated groan as he muttered something thick and barely audible. Sawyer slackened his grip, letting the fevered man walk head on into the waves. The surf wasn't overly high making it easy for the southerner to keep the doctor upright by the armpits, allowing the urgency to dissolve from his fever ridden body.
"Can't believe I'm saying this Doc but ya really need to work on getting better here before ya drive Freckles off the deep end. I'm gonna make this quite clear now that if you pull something this stupid again I'm gonna wring yer neck." Jack's body slumped forcing Sawyer to take on the whole of his weight.
"Consider that yer warning Doc," his tone was even. He knew Jack was too out of it to understand a word of what he was saying but it didn't stop him from getting it off his own chest as he examined the preposterous nature of the situation while they bobbed along.
"Besides, you don't really wanna let yer island following down do ya Doc? Hell, all ya really gotta do is grow a beard, they already believe you can walk on water." Sawyer paused to keep Jack's drooping head above the water.
"You just gotta stop trying to fix what ain't broken and get that stick outta yer ass. You ain't yer daddy, Doc. Yer the damn hero that's gonna get us the hell off this Craphole Island. Just gotta rest up long enough to get better and do it is all."
A wave splashed over them as they waded their way in, it made Jack gasp and sputter. Sawyer could feel his muscles tense as the panic rose.
"Sawyer? What's going on?" Jack grimaced, he was wet, cold, and very confused. The other man was guiding him out of the water but his mind felt too disjointed to piece any of it together. He could do little to suppress the shivers and couldn't understand why he was on the beach in only his boxers or why it was raining. His entire body burned, every muscle rendered to jelly as he moved to support his own weight, Sawyer still had a firm hold on him.
"You're running a fever, Chief," Sawyer tugged him back toward his tent, feeling the resistance build in Jack's tired frame. "I think you ought'a take a time out for a little while."
"No." Jack shook his head as he wobbled. "I need to see how everyone is holding up...make sure they're all alright."
"Of course you do," the southerner huffed, noticing how reluctant Jack's legs were to support him. At least he was lucid now which was a start.
"Lets start with Freckles shall we?"
"Something's wrong with Kate?" He instantly straightened against Sawyer, leaning heavily and allowing the other man to lead him.
They met her as she was squeezing out through the flap, panic ridden and visibly shaken Kate didn't look much better than Jack himself.
"What happened? Where did you go?" Both hands found their way to Jack's cheeks as she stared into his hooded eyes.
"Don't know. I'm fine..." He assured, brushing her off with a weak flex of his arm.
"Jack, you're not okay. You're still burning up," she pressed the back of her palm to his forehead. "Can't you see that you need to rest?"
"She's right Doc, I'm pretty sure we could fry an egg on your forehead if we wanted to."
He could feel himself slipping again, forced to squeeze his eyes tightly shut as everything suddenly seemed far too bright. The pain reached a blinding crescendo right behind his skill making him grab his head and sink against Sawyer with a choked moan.
"Jack? What's happening?" she asked in confusion. He fisted his hands and pressed them harder against his eyes.
"Pain...in my head..." he panted as soon as he could get out the words. It felt like his skull was being torn apart from the inside. It wasn't subsiding, making him feel like he needed to vomit.
"Is it the light Doc?" Sawyer observed how tightly he was covering his eyes. They took the low moan he issued as an affirmative and shuffled him inside. He collapsed onto the bedroll, breathing through the pain like it was stabbing him, jarring his insides and making it impossible to think of anything else, even with his fever raging at full force.
"Sawyer, what are you doing? We have to help him."
She watched him digging through Jack's suitcase, tossing clothes this way and that until he found what he was looking for. He held up the pair of sunglasses to Kate who nodded and attempted to pry Jack's hands away.
"Jack," she whispered when he wouldn't budge. "Hey," she tilted her head closer to his ear. "We have something that might help but we need you to help us Jack, take your hands away ...just for a minute."
His response came in the form of a frustrated groan as he let her slip her fingers into the heel of his palms and ease them down. The wave of pain intensified tenfold even though he kept his eyes squeezed shut. Sawyer slid the sunglasses on him while Kate kept his hands at bay, preventing him from driving the shades right into the front of his head.
He then moistened one of Jack's t-shirts and folded it over the glasses, adjusting it so it draped across his forehead but didn't come down far enough cover his nose.
"Any better Doc?"
Jack gave an absent nod, waiting for the next wave of pain to assault him. Kate was ready when it did, gently rubbing slow circles from his temples to the nape of his neck.
"What are you doing?" Sawyer asked with raised eyebrows hearing the doctor give a shaky sigh.
"It works for migraines," she pushed a little deeper, countering the pain before it could hurt Jack further. Kate altered the pressure as she gently moved her hands across his forehead, mapping his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs and finally skating down to his stubbed jawline. The tension in the crest of his jaw gradually melted away with her ministrations, bridging him into a painless unconsciousness as she played on that velvety spot just below his earlobes.
Sawyer watched, impassive even with the doctor's tiny whimpers urging her along. He found the aspirin he was looking for earlier and stuffed it in his pack, trying not to pay much attention to what Kate was doing.
"Can you get Juliet?" She asked, but didn't look up.
"One doctor, coming right up." Sawyer faked a smile as he picked up his pack and left the tent. Whatever was wrong with the Doc wasn't good, that he knew for sure.
On day three he drew the short straw and ended up on 'Jack Watch'. It was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
"Mmmm...that tickles."
Sawyer raised an eyebrow, glancing over a battered copy of White Fang. "What was that, Doc?"
Jack shifted on the pillow. "Tickles," he sighed, flexing his hands around the hem of his shirt. "Feels nice though." His voice was syrupy and thick with sleep.
"Do it like that," he grunted in between snores.
Sawyer blinked and set the book down in his lap. "Having yerself a little private party there, Doc Giggles?"
"More." Jack responded to the honeyed voice as though it was the only thing tethering him to a shallow reprieve, something to ground him just enough to chase all the stress and all the demons away from his mind.
"Please...more." He moaned and squeezed his eyes tighter, fingers playing with the brass button that kept his jeans snuggly around his waste.
Sawyer didn't know why they bothered to keep them on him anyway. The man was in no shape for traipsing around the beach so he certainly didn't need to be dressed like it.
"Didn't know you were that kinky, Chief. She better be hot." His remark was slow and if Jack hadn't been so sick he would almost be amused. Trust the Doc to be a raving sex addict in his sleep, it's probably the only time he gets to get some.
Day four was much like day three in the sense that Jack didn't wake up and Sawyer learned that talking in his sleep seemed to be common place for the doctor. He also learned that he could sit there for hours listening to the man mutter things about surgeries, his father, and at one point, purple penguins.
Doctor Delusional seemed to be an appropriate nickname, but he wouldn't dare say it.
Day five came with some progress. Juliet finally determined that his post operative infection was starting to heal. Jack remained asleep and Kate made a wary joke that he was catching up on all the sleep that he hadn't bothered to get in the past three months since they crashed. She took the day shifts mostly while Sawyer insisted on being there during the night. He hadn't wanted to at first, but decided he had nothing better to do.
"If he wakes up I get to beat him over the head to make sure he doesn't go nowhere." Sawyer had once explained to Juliet and a handful of others when he actually offered to take 'Jack Watch' for the second time.
Kate suspected he was trying to repay a past debut, but kept that thought to herself. Hurley called it 'transference'.
On day six Sawyer found himself actually entertained by the things Jack was saying. His fever had broken at sometime through the night, but it hadn't made him any less talkative.
"Sawyer," he muttered through pursed lips. The sound was breathy and barely audible over the sounds of waves crashing in the distance.
"You finally deciding to rejoin the world of the liven' Doc Van Winkle?" The southerner quipped, mildly surprised that the Doc had been out of the game this long. "Gonna get back to boss'n the hell outta everybody?"
He was surprised when Jack's response was in the form of a firm grip on his wrist. It almost hurt as the other man's eyeballs rolled under their lids, caught in the throws of something Sawyer couldn't pry himself away from.
Jack had been stripped down to nothing more than a pair of white boxers.
"Don't stop," he let out a content sigh and pressed the southerner's hand against his half hard member. The motion made Sawyer start and withdraw as though he had been burned. Jack's grip was iron clad, a calloused, well practiced hand forcing him back to that sweet spot that made him whimper. He glanced at Jack's face, completely mellow and needing the gentle weight that was teasing him into erection.
"You really are one horny son of a bitch, you know that?" Sawyer huffed, flexing his fingers against the soft cotton, feeling the warm bulge against the palm of his hand. It made his heart beat just a little bit faster.
Part of him wondered how long it had been for Jack, doubting the doctor ever found time to get himself off because he was too busy wiping runny noses and comforting old ladies on their death bed. Wasn't much of a turn on, he mused.
With his other hand he absently stroked the tattoos along Jack's forearm. The swirls of red and blue stars were almost mesmerizing. Jack's lips parted slightly when his thumb struck the star in the juncture of his elbow. His cock twitched making him wonder if that had happened when he was getting the tattoo in the first place.
Sawyer tried to picture it, Jack in some up scale tattoo parlor shifting like mad because some dopey employee was unknowingly getting him in all the right places. Jack wouldn't be one to cap the problem right then and there. He wasn't the type for that. He probably be anal enough to not let his dick get to full hardness just on share will alone. Or maybe he'd politely stick it out until he could get himself back to his car, definitely something high-end, a nice Mercedes or a BMW, and let himself go. He most likely wouldn't without a fight.
The southerner could almost picturing Jack ignoring the throbbing need because he was late for some damn surgery. His thumb brushed against the spot again, the doctor moaned. The hand resting over his package felt him swell impossibly bigger to the point Jack's own hands were tugging at his boxers.
"Damn," Sawyer huffed, his mind drifting back to the scene in Jack's car. He decided on a Cadillac just for good measure. Black, of course, a good doctor car. He would hope Jack would get his pants down all the way so he could feel the posh leather seats against his tight ass. It would be quick and rough like the man would never be with anyone else. Long, practiced strokes from root to tip with just enough pressure to make him grunt, enough to push him over the top.
"Fuck...don't stop."
The sleepy words went to his own cock. One of Jack's hands had slid under his boxers to help himself along. He didn't quite have the coordination to manage a proper jerk resulting in something that looked more uncomfortable than anything else. Sawyer stared at the faint drop of moisture soiling the pristane white fabric. Sighing, he hiked the offending object down to knee level and settled his hand between Jack's legs, knocking the other man's hands away.
"This one's on me Jackass," he half grinned as he lowered his head to take the other man into his mouth. Jack's hips jerked upward almost knocking the chin straight off of him. Sawyer cursed, his words vibrating down Jack's shaft, giving a slow, sure rhythm that made the unconscious man whimper in pleasure.
"Please...morefuckplease."
Jack was in a place he had never been before. So damn relaxed and sweaty as the pleasure was being milked straight out of him in the form of a warm heat that coiled in his belly and sent jolts straight to his cock. He let his arms drop like lead weights to his sides, deciding for once, he didn't have to do anything except let it happen. For once in his life he didn't care about anything else besides the warm cavern inclosing his cock in oh sweet bliss. The gentle suction it was producing was so damn perfect he couldn't help the sounds tumbling out over his lips. It was a dream, not real...didn't matter...could let go. Could finally let go.
"You gonna come for me, Doc?" Someone panted in the far distance.
He let out a groan in protest that the tongue swirling around his head was gone. He was cold and wanted to be sheethed in that warmth again. It was the good kind that didn't muddle his thoughts or make it hard to keep track of where he was. He tried reaching down, groping at himself to recreate the pleasure but something knocked him away.
"Need more," he moaned in frustration, begging his dream to let him have release just this once. This was the part where he usually woke up and opted for a cold shower instead of actually finishing it.
"Fuck yeah." Sawyer was too breathy to string together a full sentence. He shoved one hand straight into his jeans while his mouth went Jack's balls, nipping and teasing the swollen globes with his teeth. He pumped himself letting his lips and tongue dance along the underside of Jack's cock in a slow, leisurely manner that he doubted Jack had ever managed to carry out with himself.
"Gotta come, Doc." He huffed, thrusting into his hand and taking hold of Jack with the other. One more firm squeeze and they were past it, seeing stars, somewhere between grunting and gasping.
Sawyer recovered first, wetting his lips and ignoring the dampness that made his jeans cling to his crotch. Jack's belly was in a similar situation so he grabbed a cloth from the basin of water by the bedside and wiped them both off.
"Is Jack okay? I thought I heard something" Kate ducked her head in the tent. The southerner dropped the cloth on Jack's stomach. She eyed the boxers still settled at his knees and frowned.
"Male stuff." Sawyer shook his head and stalked out of the tent before he could say anything else.
"Jack?" She tentatively picked up the cloth and ran it over his face and down his throat. There were tear stains dried into his cheeks and she did her best to rub them away. Her advances across his shoulders were more hesitant. Someone had replaced the basin of seawater so it was fresh and cold. She dipped the cloth back in before letting it linger on the mysterious tattoos on his bicep and forearm. Further down the expanse of bare skin stretched across his light sprinkling of chest hair and into the taunt planes of his abdomen. She didn't go any further and blushed a little as she hauled his boxers back up.
"Sawyer," Jack muttered rolling toward the sensations. "...I love him."
On day seven he finally opened his eyes. The first thing he was aware of was his heart beating far to fast for his body to catch up with. It shouldn't have been, judging by the way he was lying, so still, as though he had just woken up from a long sleep. His mouth was dry and his head fuzzy, making him wonder if he was still alive at all. Maybe he wasn't? But that heart beat, pounding so wildly against the wall of his chest.
Jack tried his best to push himself up, his muscles were lax and uncooperative. He groaned, struggling to bring himself to full awareness.
"Jack?" Kate gazed down at him as she ran the back of her hand across her eyes to roughly swat away the grains of sleep that left her squinting.
"What's going on?" his voice was gruff from lack of use. She could see him gesturing to the binds with a hint of fear in his tone. He licked his dry lips and his brow furrowed even more. "You were crying," he added as an afterthought, concerned.
"It's nothing. I'm just happy to have you back." She shrugged it off.
"Have me back? I..." he glanced down at his uncooperative body.
"I'm just in my boxers. Why am I just in my boxers?" He asked with such utter bewilderment that she couldn't help but smile.
"Kate, what happened?" He didn't wait for an answer looking her in the eyes with a cloudy, exhausted gaze.
"You scared the hell out of us Jack," she breathed. "You've had a fever, a really high one. You've been out of it for six days."
"Days?" He whispered. "I've left all of you alone for days?" She hated the self-hating tone that his voice took on, like he did this to him on purpose. Didn't he understand that this was one of these things he couldn't control, that he couldn't cheat himself out of getting sick just like he had tried to do with sleeping first when they had crashed. Didn't he understand that he was only human?
"Well, Juliet says the infection is almost gone and your fever has broken so your on the mend now." She assured. "Say, did anyone ever tell you that you talk in your sleep?" She teased to cover up her own wariness.
His chuckle was cut short by a grimace that thinned his lips before he opened his mouth and blew out a wheezy breath of air. The motion jostled his body making his abdominal muscles clench and the incision site ripple in pain.
"Did I say anything interesting?" He winced, raking his mind to try and remember anything of the past week. It drew a solid, fuzzy blank.
"Sawyer seemed to think so." She shook her head and grinned. "You said you loved him, must have been some fever huh?"
Jack nodded and turned a very distinct shade of red.