Nailed - Part Three
Series: Nailed
Title: Reconstruction
Part: 3/3
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Genre: Futurefic
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Previous Parts: 1 | 2
When Sawyer wakes in the middle of the night, he finds himself alone.
Again.
His eyes adjust to the darkness slowly but he doesn’t really need to see and he doesn’t need to wait and make sure. He knows where Jack is. And from the cold chill of the sheets beside him, he knows he’s been there for quite awhile.
Grunting slightly as he pulls himself from bed, Sawyer wraps the heavy quilt around his bare shoulders and makes his way toward the living room. Jack doesn’t turn to look at him as he enters and he doesn’t acknowledge him when he sits down across from him on the window seat.
Jack is nearly naked; his stark white boxers seem brighter in the moonlight, his tan skin seems pale. He sits with his knees drawn close to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, his gaze focused out the window intently. The windowpanes cast a grid of shadows across his handsome face, imprisoning him with a simple trick of light. Sawyer watches him for a moment in undisturbed silence.
“You’ve gotta be freezin’,” he finally says when the quiet grows unbearable, his voice calm but concerned. It’s more of a preface to action, words explaining the way for his intentions. It’s nothing he expects Jack to answer to. Sawyer reaches out and sets his hand on Jack’s forearm, goose bumps raised there underneath his rough fingertips to prove his suspicion right.
“Here…” Sawyer stands and unwinds the blanket from around his body, then carefully sets it over Jack’s broad shoulders. His hands linger, warm and steady on Jack’s cold skin; he reluctantly lets go. The fabric slides down Jack’s arm, far enough to reveal his dark tattoos to Sawyer’s sight. Sawyer carefully and stubbornly resituates it, making sure that it stays this time.
Sawyer crouches down beside Jack and stares at him hard, like if he just looks long enough he could see the gears turning inside Jack’s head and figure out what’s going on. If only Jack would look at him. If only he’d say something. But Jack’s gaze remains fixated out into the dark night and he doesn’t breathe a word.
Sawyer stands up. He’s been waiting for a week and another night won’t make a difference. He’s kidding himself if he pretends there won’t be many more nights like this. He can’t be selfish and let it hurt because he knows it’s not about him. Whatever has its hold on Jack, Jack has to be the one to rid himself of it. Sawyer can’t do a thing but wait until Jack’s ready.
He hates feeling this helpless.
“You should come back to bed,” he says gruffly, coughing once to clear the emotion from his voice. “Gotta be at work in a few hours.” Work that they will drive to separately, despite the fact Jack has been spending all of his nights at Sawyer’s place. Work where Jack will ignore him all day long, despite showing up without explanation every evening as soon as dusk fell.
Sawyer pauses in the doorway and his eyes find Jack again, as blank and unreadable as a silhouette, as motionless as a statue.
“Jack.” His name leaves his lips because he simply can’t stop it. All he wants is one look, one simple shifting glance. His foolish hope is not rewarded. He returns to his bedroom by himself, that much colder and alone.
He lies awake until the sun rises, turning off his alarm clock before it has its chance to ring, stifling its purpose. The new morning routine begins. Jack moves around like a ghost, a whisper, and Sawyer lets him drift, afraid to touch him. The man that falls into his bed at night is never the same man that leaves him in the morning.
But Sawyer doesn’t argue or push for anything more because during those fleeting moments when Jack is his each night, he can steal a glimpse of relief, happiness, in Jack’s dark eyes. He knows he is allowing Jack a brief respite from pain and that, perhaps, he is the only one who can. So he keeps giving.
Sawyer doesn’t understand all that Jack has become. But he knows who Jack once was and that alone gives him faith that things will change. Things will get better.
Jack passes him in the hallway, his blue plaid shirt from the night before unbuttoned and his jeans hanging loose around his hips. He somehow smells both of mint and smoke, aftershave and sawdust. Sawyer follows him into the kitchen and hands him the cup of coffee he had already poured, strong and black the way Jack once told him he liked it. A simple conversation from earlier times on the island that Jack probably doesn’t even remember.
As Jack takes it, an incredibly faint smile appears on his face and Sawyer reaches out to catch it, touch it, his hand of its own volition caressing the side of Jack’s clean-shaven face.
Jack covers Sawyer’s hand with his own but he doesn’t push away his touch as Sawyer expected him to.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
“For what?”
“I used your razor.”
“That’s fine,” Sawyer assures him, merely grateful to hear his voice. If someone had told him three years ago that he would be anxious just to hear Jack talk, he would have laughed riotously. Now his body surges with relief at Jack’s few, weak words. “Looks good.”
It happens then; belated but there. He doesn’t know the reason - he never does - but he can see the hasty retreat in Jack’s eyes. Jack carefully drops his hand, pulling Sawyer’s away with it. Sawyer lets him step back. He’s learned that protesting or asking why only pushes Jack further away, undoes what small progress has been made.
Jack takes one sip of his coffee and then sets the nearly full mug on the kitchen counter before heading to the backdoor.
He hesitates in the threshold, looking down at his feet.
“I’ll…see you at work, Sawyer.” He bites his lip and swallows hard but he doesn’t look at Sawyer. He steps outside.
“Yeah. See ya,” Sawyer replies shortly, quietly, the sound of the screen door shutting as sharp as a slap to the face. He waits until he hears Jack’s truck roll away before letting out the deep breath he’d been holding, tension releasing from his shoulders.
Sawyer picks up Jack’s basically untouched coffee and dumps it down the drain. The heavy ceramic mug clatters into the stainless steel sink. He closes his eyes tightly, not about to let it all get to him now - not now - and then heads to his bedroom to finish getting ready to leave.
*******
“Boss, you’re late.” It’s not an admonishment by any means; more of an amused observation, like Nate didn’t believe him capable of such a thing. Nate lifts his baseball cap and runs his hand over his buzz cut, scratches his forehead and then puts his hat back on, smiling at Sawyer goofily.
“Truck wouldn’t start,” Sawyer mutters. “I think the alternator’s goin’.”
“That sucks. You shoulda called me up, I could’ve picked you up on my way through.”
“All the tools are in here,” Sawyer points out, tapping the black, rusted tool chest that shoulders across the bed of the truck directly behind the cab. Nate shrugs like it doesn’t matter. Sawyer then gestures to the ladder rack. “Can’t exactly load them onto your Camaro there, kid.” Even though he is talking to Nate he can’t keep his attention focused on him. His eyes push past him, obviously looking for something. “Did the…did the windows come yet or…”
“He’s inside working,” Nate suddenly says after Sawyer falls quiet, too distracted to finish out his thought. Sawyer’s head snaps toward Nate, surprised and defensive. Nate looks back at him without judgment. He had been merely telling Sawyer something he clearly wanted to know, a matter-of-fact assessment as simple as telling him what work still needed to be done. Sawyer relaxes, instead casting his gaze down to the ground, slightly embarrassed by being so transparent.
“Oh. Right. Well,” Sawyer turns away from the house. “Did the windows come yet or do I have to call the company again?”
“They came. I had the delivery guys put them down over on the side, outta the way of these guys with the plumbing and all that.” Nate seeks Sawyer’s approval for his on-the-spot decision and Sawyer obliges, patting him on the shoulder and offering him a smile.
“Good call, kiddo. Soon you’ll be runnin’ these jobs and I can just sit on back and delegate from some swanky office somewhere.”
“Sure thing boss.” Nate agrees happily. “What side of the house you want to do first?”
“Back’s fine,” He says casually, despite the fact it really does matter to him. He always likes to start with the back first because then when it comes time to do the front, the part that makes it look finished, it actually is finished. Nothing’s worse than believing something hard to be over and then discovering it’s not, that there is still more work to be done. “Jeff here?”
“Yeah, he’s here. Hung over as all shit but he’s here.” They round the corner to the back yard and find Jeff sitting on the edge of the pallet that used to lay underneath the bundles of shingles, his head between his knees, his hands gripping the top of his backward baseball cap. “Jeff!” Nate barks way too loudly, harassing him with a gleeful smile.
“Urrrrrggggghhh,” Jeff groans and slowly raises his head. Sawyer laughs good-naturedly.
“You need a morning beer, there, Jeffrey?”
“Think I might, boss.”
“What the hell’d you do last night, boy?” Sawyer asks, setting his hand on Jeff’s shoulder and shaking him back and forth a few times, knowing it will wreak havoc on his pounding headache. Jeff winces and mewls in pain.
“Probably drank a six pack by himself while he sat in the basement and whacked off to porn,” Nate jokes crassly, opening up their cooler and pulling out a bottle of water. Jeff reaches for it as Nate cracks it open and takes a sip. He looks at Jeff innocently as he swallows. “Oh, you want one?”
Jeff glares at him and Nate tosses him a bottle. He can’t react quickly enough to catch it but Sawyer does, grabbing it in mid-air and handing it to Jeff carefully.
“You want me to send ya home?” Sawyer asks. Jeff shakes his head no, flinching at the movement.
“Just gimme a minute, I’ll be fine,” he assures Sawyer, waving him off. “Worked through worse.”
“Yeah, I know, I seen you do it,” Sawyer mutters. He’s not really angry; they’re just kids. They’re a far cry more responsible than he had been at their age. At twenty he had already been scamming people for money, targeting unsuspecting lonely women who turned soft and stupid at the sight of his sleepy, sensual smile. He hadn’t been showing up for work at 7am and working long hard days in the steaming hot sun. “Drink some water and sit for awhile, come on up when you stop seein’ double.”
“I’m not seein’ double,” Jeff remarks and Sawyer thumps him on the back. Jeff lurches forward and yelps.
“Then drink up and let’s get to work.” He grins and then joins Nate toward the pile of long, thin cardboard boxes marked Andersen. He points to the one that Nate is labeling with a thick black Sharpie. “You already sortin’ these?”
“Kinda don’t know what I’m doing but I’m trying,” Nate admits he’s clueless. “I’ll be damned if I can tell what goes where.”
“That’s cause I ain’t told you yet,” Sawyer replies and digs a piece of torn notebook paper from his back pocket, unfolding it. He has drawn messy sketches of each side of the house, measurements of each window written his in small, cramped handwriting. It takes them while but eventually they figure out what size should end up where, marking them carefully back and front with where exactly they belong.
“Let’s take these inside.” Sawyer jerks his head toward the house, his hand on the stack of matching windows that go along the second floor in the back. “Installin’ ‘em should be a snap, probably get ‘em done today if we haul ass.”
“I hate windows,” Jeff mumbles, still sitting five feet away from them with his head in his hands.
“Doesn’t seem much to matter, lazyass,” Nate retorts and gestures to the first box before bending down to put his hands on either corner of his end.
“Got it?” Sawyer asks after he takes his end; Nate nods and they lift it together. They carry it easily inside through the still wide-open frame in the back where there will soon be a sliding glass door. It’s a bit more awkward to get it up the stairs but they make it to the back bedroom and place it carefully on the dusty floor, managing to set it down without causing an indelicate thud.
“Okay, now we only have to do that…eleven more times?” Nate laughs, and then wipes his forehead. “Shit, why does anyone need a house this big. They have like fifteen kids or something?”
“Probably just got money to burn,” Sawyer mutters. “You know the type.”
“Can’t say as I do, personally…I mean, you got the money, boss, but you sure aren’t burning it.” Sawyer raises his eyebrows.
“Been doin’ more readin’, I take it.” Nate obviously takes this as permission to give his opinion.
“I don’t get why you’re busting your ass everyday when you’re sitting on that amount of money!” Nate drops his voice low, whispering excitedly of Sawyer’s fortunes like a secret.
“I started the company with it,” Sawyer informs him and Nate just scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“You bought a couple of ladders, a truck and some business cards, boss, come on. You still got millions.”
“How do you know I didn’t blow it on somethin’ else already?” Sawyer points out with a smirk and Nate merely shakes his head and walks past him, heading back down the stairs.
“Because you didn’t,” Nate states confidently and jumps down the last two steps, landing on the ground with loud, reverberating thud. A couple of voices rise up from the basement in angry warning and Nate chuckles before yelling an apology to whoever is working down there.
Sawyer is about to follow Nate when he sees Jack out of the corner of his eye, walking down the hallway toward him from the west side of the house. He turns to face him but doesn’t speak, waiting to see if Jack is going to acknowledge him or not.
“Hey,” Jack says, stopping a few feet away from him. His hands play anxiously with the edges of his tool belt. Sawyer fidgets as well before answering. He half expects this greeting to be the beginning and end of the conversation and braces himself for the let down.
“Hey.”
“You…you were late today. Everything all right?” Jack questions, his voice cracking.
Sawyer doesn’t speak, at first processing the fact that Jack actually is speaking with him normally and secondly amazed that he even noticed he hadn’t arrived on time. Most days Jack keeps his head down and pretends Sawyer doesn’t exist.
“Everythin’s fine. Just some trouble with the truck is all.” Sawyer itches his temple with his index finger and then runs his hand through his hair. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jack replies, shooting Sawyer a strange look. Apparently this conversation wasn’t meant to go both ways; Sawyer should’ve known. “Uh…let us know when you’re done with the windows in there. We can start the plumbing and electric afterward.”
“Yeah…sure.” Sawyer nods slowly and takes a tentative step down the stairs. He doesn’t know if Jack has more to say but he’s not sure he wants to hear it even if he does. The push and pull of everyday life with Jack is growing more confusing. He never knows when he’s crossing the line because the line keeps moving. “I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.” Jack stands there; he doesn’t go back down the hall, doesn’t move toward Sawyer, but stands there. Sawyer doesn’t move either. Jack clearly has something more to say but doesn’t know how to say it. Jack rubs his thumb over his lip once and then looks up at Sawyer, swallowing hard. “Um…thanks for the coffee this morning.”
Sawyer lets out a short laugh, more out of surprise than anything else. He hadn’t expected anything but he definitely hadn’t expected that.
“You didn’t even drink it,” he says. Jack smiles gently, resting one hand on the top of his hammer and the other going to the back of his head.
“Still…thanks all the same,” he replies shyly, thoughtfully, his face growing serious. Sawyer waits a moment before saying anything, letting Jack’s words hang in the air, untouched.
“Well…you’re welcome.” All of a sudden he feels like he is back on the island, back when courteous exchanges between the pair of them felt unusual and awkward, and smiles and well wishes were rare. It’s all that tenuous and fragile and unfamiliar. Sawyer never knew where he stood with Jack then either, back when all he wanted was respect. Jack had given that to him far more easily than what Sawyer is trying to gain from him now.
They stand there, so close yet not touching, in the hallway for what seems like an eternity. They both have things they should be doing, people waiting on them. It all doesn’t seem as important as what happens next.
With a small glance over his shoulder, Jack steps inside one of the unfinished bedrooms. He doesn’t ask Sawyer to follow but Sawyer does anyway.
“You the only one up here?” Sawyer asks Jack and Jack nods. “They’re all down in the kitchen?”
“And the basement.” Jack walks to the exterior wall, the only wall that is solid, and leans against it. “The sump pump isn’t working properly and we’re supposed to get rain.”
“Rain, is that right?” Sawyer gives him a small smile and looks around, across the maze of 2x4s that make it impossible to distinguish one room from another from where they are standing. He can hear everyone downstairs, wrenches clanging against metal, and idle chitchat. It doesn’t stop him from moving toward Jack.
“It’s supposed to start this afternoon and last all weekend.” Jack replies, angling his face toward the empty rectangle where Sawyer is supposed to be placing windows at this very moment, looking out at the forest of pines still so close to the house. Sawyer steps closer and Jack turns back to him quickly. He has that look in his eye, the one he has at night when he knocks on Sawyer’s front door and lets Sawyer pull him inside. It’s the first time Sawyer has seen such a gaze in daylight hours and he loves it all the more for that reason.
“Roof’s all done…I don’t mind a little rain,” Sawyer murmurs, eyes rising toward the ceiling and then leveling back toward Jack, giving him a small shrug.
“You used to hate it. On the island.” Sawyer fixes Jack with a surprised stare; he can’t help it. Jack has never brought up the island before, not on his own. He recovers and pretends to consider the point for a moment.
“I hated getting wet…I didn’t mind the rain.” He smiles but his eyes darken, gaining a bit of predatory confidence as he suddenly feels that Jack is right where he wants him.
“Is there a difference?” Jack inquires, his voice hitching as Sawyer’s hands find his hips, holding him tightly. Sawyer moves so close that his next words brush against Jack’s cheeks like a warm caress.
“’Course there is…” Jack shifts underneath his touch, apprehensive but yearning. “One you’re watchin’ the storm... the other, well, you’re in it, ain’t ya.”
His words become touch, hands soft on Jack’s freshly shaven face. Sawyer holds Jack delicately when he presses his lips to his face, his kisses feather light over Jack’s skin until he claims his mouth. When he moves to deepen it, Jack’s hands find his wrists, trying to stop it even though he was the one who drew Sawyer in. Sawyer hushes him, not allowing him to pull back.
“I know you’re in it, Doc…I know.”
“Sawyer…” Jack whispers, the two syllables shattering underneath the weight of all the contradictory emotions they tried to support.
“C’mon, Doc…only a damned fool stands out ‘n the rain when he knows full well he can come inside.”
Jack opens his mouth like he wants to say something but he stops abruptly, instead opting to press his parted lips to Sawyer’s.
Something gives, something breaks and suddenly the kiss is passionate, fervent; he feels Jack with him more than he has felt before. He never realized until then that this is what he always imagined kissing Jack would be like. Every kiss before this one, the ones that had sent shivers down his spine, pale in comparison. This is real. This is right.
This is Jack.
Jack’s large hands are tangled in his hair and his own fingers grip the collar of Jack’s plaid shirt. They remain there, the flannel soft under his fingertips, when they finally break away from another, breathing hard and heavy. Their foreheads rest against each other’s and their lips desperately try to meet again but the need for a moment’s air is too great. They hold one another like that, eyes locked, until they can kiss or speak, whatever comes first.
“Holy shit.”
Nate’s shocked voice cuts through Sawyer and Jack’s embrace and Sawyer quickly steps back, startled. Jack looks at Nate once and then looks down to the ground, dropping his hands to his sides. He doesn’t say anything and his expression goes blank. Sawyer wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand and swallows hard.
“Nate. Hey, sorry. Right. I’ll be right there to help with the windows.” He’s flustered and it shows. Nate remains fixed, gaping, in the doorway.
Sawyer grunts, becoming frustrated and defensive quickly. He attacks before he can be attacked.
“Can you give me a damn minute here?” He glares at Nate like Nate’s surprise at finding him lip-locked with another man is ridiculous.
Nate doesn’t say anything. He just takes two steps backward and then turns and walks down the stairs, his daze wearing off and his pace increasing as he reaches the bottom.
“Fuck,” Sawyer mutters, running his hand through his hair once, pushing it back from his face. He turns to Jack, who is still standing there motionless. “I guess I got some explainin’ to do.” Jack nods once, blinking a few times and then lifting his head. That too familiar sadness is creeping back over his face. “That’s what I get for makin’ out on the job.” Sawyer chuckles in an attempt to bring a smile to Jack’s face.
Jack obligingly gives him one but it doesn’t reach his eyes; not even close.
“We should…uh, we should both get back to work then.” Jack fixes his rumpled shirt, his gaze everywhere but on Sawyer, and then heads for the door.
“Jack.” Sawyer stops him sharply. He doesn’t have anything to follow it up with but he can’t let him leave just like that, nothing said. What happened was too important to be brushed off.
“It’s okay. I’ll see you tonight,” Jack tells him as he pauses in the doorway. He taps his hand twice lightly against the frame and then walks out. Sawyer watches him disappear down the staircase and his heart sinks like a lead weight. He doesn’t feel reassured.
*******
Nate won’t meet his eyes when he goes to the backyard. He busies himself with looking through the boxes they’d already painstakingly sorted and doesn’t say a word when Sawyer stops opposite him.
“You okay?” Sawyer asks him. He feels vaguely like a parent having to face a child who’d just walked in on him having sex. Embarrassed and concerned and slightly annoyed that it has to be discussed.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Nate mumbles without looking up. Sawyer sighs. “I mean, you’re gay. So what. None of my business.”
“I’m not really…I mean, I woulda told you and all,” Sawyer states, uneasy. He coughs into his fist once, clearing his raspy throat. “Didn’t know what you’d make of it.”
“You thought I was going to call you a fag or something, make fun of you? Or quit workin’ for you?” Nate finally raises his head and Sawyer finds his blue eyes blazing with anger, hurt, betrayal. “I thought that we were friends, man. You lie about god damned everything.”
“I don’t…I didn’t lie to ya.”
“Would it have been so hard to say you’re into the guy?” Nate asks, annoyed. “I tell you about all the girls I date.”
“There’s some things I don’t share,” Sawyer replies and Nate rolls his eyes, huffing, exasperated. “You keep wantin’ there to be no difference between you and me, ya want us to be buddies like you ‘n Jeff are buddies, but that ain’t gonna work, okay? We got diff’rent sets of problems, you and me. There’re some things you…couldn’t understand.”
“Like what?”
“It ain’t nothin’ pers’nal, don’t get all pissy-faced on me, all right? It’s age, it’s life, it’s…whatever. It’s how it is.”
“Yeah. That’s how it is.” His words are bitter. Nate bends down and picks up his side of the next box with a grunt. He looks at Sawyer expectantly, waiting for him to lift his two corners. Sawyer hesitates and then rolls his eyes, hefting it up off the ground.
“So this is gonna be a problem, then?” Sawyer asks bluntly. Nate shakes his head.
“No problem, boss.”
“We’re just gonna drop it.”
“It’s fine, whatever. You got your life, I got mine, we aren’t friends. Forget I said anything.” Nate replies as they back the door into the house and stagger toward the stairs. Sawyer readjusts his slipping grip on the right corner before angling the long, thin box up the staircase.
“I never said that we ain’t friends.”
“Only that there’s shit we can’t ever talk about.” Nate pushes a little harder from his position at the bottom, setting Sawyer slightly off balance. Sawyer looks around the edge of the box toward Nate.
“Quit pushin’ so hard, slow it down. You tryin’ to make me fall?” He reaches the top and starts turning down the hallway, going down far enough to give Nate room to come onto the landing. “Put it back in the same room as the other one.”
“You mean the makeout room?” Nate asks loudly. Sawyer glares at him.
“Shut the hell up, would you?” Sawyer hisses in response. “I don’t see why you gotta be so mad about it. The whole thing’s not somethin’ you just bring up outta the blue, is all. What should I have said? ‘Hey Nate, bring up the roll of ice and water and by the way I fuck guys’?”
“That would’ve been one way to do it.” Nate snorts with laughter despite himself but then scowls stubbornly.
‘Sides, Jack and I ain’t really…” Sawyer pauses. Discussing his relationship makes his feel girly in too many ways to be comfortable. “Whatever. I don’t really talk about it but if ya wanna ask, go ahead.”
They set down the window with a careful but inevitable thud and Nate wipes his dusty hands on his jeans. He stares at Sawyer for a moment, a question clearly on his mind.
“What?” Sawyer prompts him, impatient. He wants to get on with this and move past it.
“You seriously fuck guys? Like, for real?” Nate’s eyes narrow like he can’t quite believe it.
“Not guys…it’s only Jack.”
“Like…ever?”
“I sure ain’t a virgin, kid, if that’s what you suddenly got all wide-eyed about.” Sawyer snaps, pointing at him but then letting up.
“So it’s more of a Jack thing than a gay thing.”
“You uncomfortable with that gay thing? ‘Cause Jack is a guy, so if you have to label it all, it is a gay thing.” Sawyer sighs. The whole situation is growing more frustrating by the second. “Why’d you gotta make this into a big deal?”
“I’m not.” Nate shakes his head furiously and heads for the door. “My girlfriend always says she’s got good gaydar and man, she never said a word.” Sawyer pauses, having to quickly recant the angry retort he had prepared in his mind. He stares at Nate, wondering if he’s joking.
“What the hell’d you just say? Gaydar?” Sawyer scoffs and Nate laughs outright. Like that, the tension is diffused and Sawyer finds himself laughing too.
“Just saying, it isn’t obvious, boss. I never would’ve guessed. I mean, especially with all the plaid and shit…”
“Yeah, well…don’t go throwin’ me a pride parade anytime soon, all right? Things with Jack…let’s say they’re a mess and I ain’t about to make it worse by gettin’ everyone else into it.” Nate holds up a hand to shush Sawyer and then looks around like he’s searching for something. Sawyer lets out an annoyed sigh. “What?”
“They aren’t done building the closets yet, boss, so that might not be the best place to hide,” Nate comments as he heads down the stairs.
“Shut it, you snarky bastard,” Sawyer mutters, shoving Nate in the shoulder but chuckling a little as he does so.
“Hey, hey, on the stairs here! Work safety comes first, dude!” Nate protests, pretending to stumble down the last two steps and landing with a heavy and awkward thump on the bottom landing. Sawyer walks right past him, ignoring his dramatics.
“C’mon, it’s supposed to rain later. Let’s get the windows in before we end up workin’ wet.”
Sawyer takes a look around before going outside, hoping to find Jack and give him a reassuring smile, let him know that everything is okay, but there is no sign of him. He goes back to work without too much concern. He’ll be able to tell him later tonight.
The thought of having a later tonight fills him with unfamiliar happiness and he is barely bothered by having to step over Jeff’s legs when he goes to the backyard, finding him laying down on the ground moaning something about tequila being a bad idea.
“Tequila’s always a bad idea,” Sawyer tells him without much sympathy but with a light laugh. Jeff groans and rolls over, clutching his stomach.
“Got that right…”
*******
-------> THIS PART CONTINUED...