Lost fic: Housekeeping (Jack, Sawyer, fluff!)
Just in case anybody else needed something a bit lighter after that last story.
Disclaimer: You should be glad Lost does not belong to me.
Warnings: Mentions season 2 people, places and things. Fluff.
Author's Notes: Using for fanfic100 prompt 096, writer's choice (pink).
Housekeeping
by eponine119
January 27, 2006
Jack liked to clean when he was stressed out. He liked to wash dishes, especially. It gave him something to do with his hands and occupied his mind just enough to let him stop thinking about whatever was stressing him out.
This was evidently not true of anyone else who had been in the hatch since they discovered it, as evidenced by the sink filled with dirty dishes, dust bunnies lurking in the corners, and stuff piled up everywhere. It both disgusted Jack and reassured him. There was enough cleaning to handle all of his stress.
Jack also liked to be naked when he was stressed out. Something about the feel of air against his bare skin relaxed him.
But cleaning and being naked didn't go especially well together, as he'd learned from painful personal experience. So he'd been happy to discover the thin cotton apron that he now wore. Who cared if it was pink? It was clean.
Jack was happily scrubbing away at a sticky pile of dishes when he heard a noise. He stopped and turned his head, listening carefully. Nothing. So he went back to scrubbing, and then he heard it again. Louder. He turned off the hot water tap, his stomach knotting. Someone was in the hatch. It was as disturbing as realizing someone else was in your house when you thought you were alone.
"Who's there?" he called. There was no answer. He proceeded carefully in the direction of the noise. It was coming from behind the closed bedroom door. Jack tiptoed in that direction, feeling the cold key to the gun case bounce against his chest with every step, reminding him that he wasn't armed.
He figured the element of surprise was with him, so he crept up on the closed door and them flung it open. There was a startled scream from inside the bedroom, followed quickly by Jack's startled scream when he saw the person standing there. And then the person screamed again when he saw Jack.
They stood there staring at each other for a long, tense moment. Then Sawyer burst into laughter. "What the hell you doin', doc?" he cried.
"Are you sure you should be asking me that question?" Jack asked, with his eyebrows raised. It made perfect sense to wear an apron when one was cleaning. But there was no ready excuse for Sawyer's attire.
The other man was wearing a dress. A very pretty dark blue dress. It was crafted out of some sort of soft fabric, hugging his shoulders and chest before draping into long folds that hung down against his legs. One of his hands rested against his hip, rubbing lightly back and forth like he didn't realize he was doing it. Like it felt good.
"I s'pose you wanna know what I'm doing," Sawyer said, challengingly. Jack's forehead wrinkled as he waited for an explanation. Sawyer sighed. "Don't you ever get curious about things?"
"I'm curious about this," Jack admitted, gazing at Sawyer. There was something alluring about his tan legs and bare feet beneath the hem of the dress.
"It's kinda nice. Breezy," Sawyer said, nailing Jack with a steady gaze. "But I'm guessing you already know that."
"I have shorts on," Jack protested, flipping up his apron to display them to Sawyer.
"Pink ones," Sawyer pointed out.
"That's your fault," Jack reminded him. He let the apron fall back down over his thighs and looked at Sawyer again. His eyes seemed brighter somehow. Bluer. "That's a good color on you," he remarked.
"Thanks," Sawyer said, turning his back on Jack to look in the mirror again. He ran one hand lightly down the bodice of the dress, then met Jack's eyes in the glass.
"You find that in the laundry?" Jack asked.
"Ain't pink, is it?" Sawyer asked.
"No."
"Then I didn't find it in the laundry, did I?" Sawyer asked, trying to watch himself in the mirror as he turned. He twisted, trying to catch his rear view. "Looks vintage, don't you think?"
"Maybe it belonged to somebody from the hatch," Jack said. No one had mentioned women in the hatch, so he hadn't imagined there had been any. He supposed there was no reason why there couldn't have been women there.
"That guy," Sawyer said, a scowl darkening his face. "I hate him."
"Did you ever meet him?" Jack asked, surprised.
"Indirectly," Sawyer grumbled. Jack still didn't understand. "He wrote in all the fucking books!" Sawyer cried, exasperated, one hand flying up out of rage.
"Doesn't everybody do that?" Jack asked, blinking innocently. Sawyer growled and went back to looking at himself in the mirror. "At least you two had something in common."
"I swear to god, Jack, this is the first time I ever put on a dress," Sawyer said.
Somehow Jack didn't quite believe him. "I meant reading," he replied.
Sawyer made another face, and then dug his hands through his hair, pulling it back as though trying something new. "You think it looks better on me?" he asked, glancing back at Jack.
Jack thought about Desmond, his pale face and compact physique. Then he looked at Sawyer. So tall and leanly muscled and tan, with the dress bringing out the color of his eyes…Jack may have sighed involuntarily.
"Bet it'd look good on you," Sawyer said. He sounded kind of hopeful.
"Not my color," Jack said quickly, and turned away, feeling heat rising in his face.
"Forgot," Sawyer said in a low voice. "Pink's your color."
"It is not!" Jack cried. "Everybody on the island is wearing pink underwear, okay? And we're all just fine with it!"
"I'm not," Sawyer said, with a shrug.
"I know," Jack replied. Now he was exasperated.
"How'd you know that?" Sawyer asked.
"You're wearing a dress!" Jack cried. Sawyer made a swipe at the skirt and started trying to see his ass in the mirror again. "Besides, everyone knows you never wear any underwear."
"Everyone?" Sawyer asked, grinning at himself in the mirror, trying not to laugh again. His dimples were impossibly deep and Jack felt something tug at him inside. "Maybe you should try it sometime."
"I'll stick with my pink shorts, thanks," Jack said. He turned away. He thought he'd heard the dryer stop, and he was suddenly wanting to put on real clothes.
"You keep saying that like it's my fault. Hell, Jack, even I know better'n to wash darks with lights."
"I separated!" Jack screamed.
"And if you are gonna wash darks and lights together, gotta do it in cold water," Sawyer continued as though Jack hadn't spoken.
Jack groaned as though he was having a stroke. "Whites ALWAYS get washed in hot water," he said. "Do you know what kind of germs --" He stopped himself, shaking his head. He pointed an accusing finger. "I know it was you."
"What?" Sawyer laughed.
"I know it was you. You put that red sock in the basket when my back was turned."
"Why would I do that?" Sawyer asked. He almost sounded like he hadn't done it.
"Because you wanted me to have to wear pink underwear!"
Sawyer didn't deny it. Jack's eyes widened and he kept waiting, but the denial never came. "You did!" Jack cried. "You really did it!"
"What can I say," Sawyer said. "It's your color." Sawyer was grinning again now. It looked so damn good on him.
end
Disclaimer: You should be glad Lost does not belong to me.
Warnings: Mentions season 2 people, places and things. Fluff.
Author's Notes: Using for fanfic100 prompt 096, writer's choice (pink).
Housekeeping
by eponine119
January 27, 2006
Jack liked to clean when he was stressed out. He liked to wash dishes, especially. It gave him something to do with his hands and occupied his mind just enough to let him stop thinking about whatever was stressing him out.
This was evidently not true of anyone else who had been in the hatch since they discovered it, as evidenced by the sink filled with dirty dishes, dust bunnies lurking in the corners, and stuff piled up everywhere. It both disgusted Jack and reassured him. There was enough cleaning to handle all of his stress.
Jack also liked to be naked when he was stressed out. Something about the feel of air against his bare skin relaxed him.
But cleaning and being naked didn't go especially well together, as he'd learned from painful personal experience. So he'd been happy to discover the thin cotton apron that he now wore. Who cared if it was pink? It was clean.
Jack was happily scrubbing away at a sticky pile of dishes when he heard a noise. He stopped and turned his head, listening carefully. Nothing. So he went back to scrubbing, and then he heard it again. Louder. He turned off the hot water tap, his stomach knotting. Someone was in the hatch. It was as disturbing as realizing someone else was in your house when you thought you were alone.
"Who's there?" he called. There was no answer. He proceeded carefully in the direction of the noise. It was coming from behind the closed bedroom door. Jack tiptoed in that direction, feeling the cold key to the gun case bounce against his chest with every step, reminding him that he wasn't armed.
He figured the element of surprise was with him, so he crept up on the closed door and them flung it open. There was a startled scream from inside the bedroom, followed quickly by Jack's startled scream when he saw the person standing there. And then the person screamed again when he saw Jack.
They stood there staring at each other for a long, tense moment. Then Sawyer burst into laughter. "What the hell you doin', doc?" he cried.
"Are you sure you should be asking me that question?" Jack asked, with his eyebrows raised. It made perfect sense to wear an apron when one was cleaning. But there was no ready excuse for Sawyer's attire.
The other man was wearing a dress. A very pretty dark blue dress. It was crafted out of some sort of soft fabric, hugging his shoulders and chest before draping into long folds that hung down against his legs. One of his hands rested against his hip, rubbing lightly back and forth like he didn't realize he was doing it. Like it felt good.
"I s'pose you wanna know what I'm doing," Sawyer said, challengingly. Jack's forehead wrinkled as he waited for an explanation. Sawyer sighed. "Don't you ever get curious about things?"
"I'm curious about this," Jack admitted, gazing at Sawyer. There was something alluring about his tan legs and bare feet beneath the hem of the dress.
"It's kinda nice. Breezy," Sawyer said, nailing Jack with a steady gaze. "But I'm guessing you already know that."
"I have shorts on," Jack protested, flipping up his apron to display them to Sawyer.
"Pink ones," Sawyer pointed out.
"That's your fault," Jack reminded him. He let the apron fall back down over his thighs and looked at Sawyer again. His eyes seemed brighter somehow. Bluer. "That's a good color on you," he remarked.
"Thanks," Sawyer said, turning his back on Jack to look in the mirror again. He ran one hand lightly down the bodice of the dress, then met Jack's eyes in the glass.
"You find that in the laundry?" Jack asked.
"Ain't pink, is it?" Sawyer asked.
"No."
"Then I didn't find it in the laundry, did I?" Sawyer asked, trying to watch himself in the mirror as he turned. He twisted, trying to catch his rear view. "Looks vintage, don't you think?"
"Maybe it belonged to somebody from the hatch," Jack said. No one had mentioned women in the hatch, so he hadn't imagined there had been any. He supposed there was no reason why there couldn't have been women there.
"That guy," Sawyer said, a scowl darkening his face. "I hate him."
"Did you ever meet him?" Jack asked, surprised.
"Indirectly," Sawyer grumbled. Jack still didn't understand. "He wrote in all the fucking books!" Sawyer cried, exasperated, one hand flying up out of rage.
"Doesn't everybody do that?" Jack asked, blinking innocently. Sawyer growled and went back to looking at himself in the mirror. "At least you two had something in common."
"I swear to god, Jack, this is the first time I ever put on a dress," Sawyer said.
Somehow Jack didn't quite believe him. "I meant reading," he replied.
Sawyer made another face, and then dug his hands through his hair, pulling it back as though trying something new. "You think it looks better on me?" he asked, glancing back at Jack.
Jack thought about Desmond, his pale face and compact physique. Then he looked at Sawyer. So tall and leanly muscled and tan, with the dress bringing out the color of his eyes…Jack may have sighed involuntarily.
"Bet it'd look good on you," Sawyer said. He sounded kind of hopeful.
"Not my color," Jack said quickly, and turned away, feeling heat rising in his face.
"Forgot," Sawyer said in a low voice. "Pink's your color."
"It is not!" Jack cried. "Everybody on the island is wearing pink underwear, okay? And we're all just fine with it!"
"I'm not," Sawyer said, with a shrug.
"I know," Jack replied. Now he was exasperated.
"How'd you know that?" Sawyer asked.
"You're wearing a dress!" Jack cried. Sawyer made a swipe at the skirt and started trying to see his ass in the mirror again. "Besides, everyone knows you never wear any underwear."
"Everyone?" Sawyer asked, grinning at himself in the mirror, trying not to laugh again. His dimples were impossibly deep and Jack felt something tug at him inside. "Maybe you should try it sometime."
"I'll stick with my pink shorts, thanks," Jack said. He turned away. He thought he'd heard the dryer stop, and he was suddenly wanting to put on real clothes.
"You keep saying that like it's my fault. Hell, Jack, even I know better'n to wash darks with lights."
"I separated!" Jack screamed.
"And if you are gonna wash darks and lights together, gotta do it in cold water," Sawyer continued as though Jack hadn't spoken.
Jack groaned as though he was having a stroke. "Whites ALWAYS get washed in hot water," he said. "Do you know what kind of germs --" He stopped himself, shaking his head. He pointed an accusing finger. "I know it was you."
"What?" Sawyer laughed.
"I know it was you. You put that red sock in the basket when my back was turned."
"Why would I do that?" Sawyer asked. He almost sounded like he hadn't done it.
"Because you wanted me to have to wear pink underwear!"
Sawyer didn't deny it. Jack's eyes widened and he kept waiting, but the denial never came. "You did!" Jack cried. "You really did it!"
"What can I say," Sawyer said. "It's your color." Sawyer was grinning again now. It looked so damn good on him.
end