Maybe This is Our Love Story [1/2] - Lost - Charlie/Sawyer
Title: Maybe This is Our Love Story [1/2]
Pairing: Charlie/Sawyer (Jack/Kate, one-sided Kate/Sawyer)
Word Count: 5900 overall
Rating: R
A/N: A very, very self-indulgent story I wrote while on holiday for lostpicksix's "Chance encounter" prompt, set in a future that pretends Through The Looking Glass never happened.
Summary: It starts in a coffee shop, or maybe it doesn't. Maybe it started long before either of them realised it.
Charlie didn't look up when he first felt the weight of someone's eyes on him. His skin prickled but he tried not to le it bother him too much. People always stared these days, didn't they? Why wouldn't they? As one of the gaggle of survivors from Oceanic Flight 815 - and a former rock star as well - he was something of an oddity. A rare find. The shiniest gem in the jewel box.
He'd loved it in the first few weeks. One little plane crash - and the months of disastrous danger that had followed - had brought him all the fame that he and Liam had spent years chasing. Now people asked for his autograph. Now they stared at him in coffee shops.
And now it was bloody annoying. Why had he and Liam ever wanted this so much? They must have been completely mad. There was no other explanation.
He flipped the page of his newspaper and scanned the headlines as he took a wincing sip from his cup of god-awful coffee. Nothing seemed especially gripping. It was hard, really, to get in tune with the outside world again. Even months later it all felt strangely irrelevant. He placed his cup down and flipped the page again without bother to read the full articles.
That person, whoever they were, was still watching him. He could feel it.
With a frustrated huff he looked up, ready to glare and rant and complain if necessary. Glancing around the small selection of tables he paused when he found the culprit - paused and stared, bemused, at the unexpected watcher.
Same blond hair, same blue eyes, same infuriating smirk. It was Sawyer, alright.
So, Charlie thought as he watched him for a few unsteady seconds, what the hell brings Sawyer to Manchester?
He folded his paper in half and placed it down on the table before he waved Sawyer over - he found an awkward burst of nerves rushing through him in anticipation of all the stretching silences that no doubt awaited them. He'd had no reason to contact Sawyer since they'd got to the mainland, to freedom. They'd rarely talked while on the island and he'd seen no reason to start once they'd escaped.
As he watched Sawyer stand - and he really was an annoyingly tall bastard, wasn't he? - he was therefore surprised by the rush of warmth that spread through him. Sawyer lumbered over and Charlie smiled. He must have missed him, in an odd kind of way.
"Definitely didn't expect to see you here," he said as Sawyer slouched into the seat opposite him.
The smug bastard was already smirking, that neat little grin that made all the girls' hearts start pitter-pattering. Those bloody dimples, they were to blame. "Wasn't exactly planning on running into you either."
"Really?" Charlie asked sceptically. "So you just happened to be in my city in the same coffee shop as me?"
"Yeah. Damn bad luck, I guess." Sawyer hadn't stopped smirking for even one scant second. "I'm just travellin' around at the moment."
"I know. Hurley told me. He said you took off after Kate and Jack --"
"And what about you?" Sawyer said sharply. "Heard you're writing these days?"
"Song-writing, yeah," Charlie confirmed. "It's going okay."
"I figured you would've got that 'rock' band together again. Driveshaft. Thought you were dying to be our next big thing."
Charlie shrugged. "I was - but I got over it. Grew up, I guess."
Funny the changes that one little plane crash could bring about. After the rescue, becoming an overnight success hadn't seemed too important any more. He wrote; he composed. He heard his music on the radio sang by singers who were slightly more competent than he or Liam had ever been and he also heard it mangled in the 'dance remixes'. The royalties trickled into his fattening bank account. Life was going pretty well.
He wondered if Sawyer could say the same thing. He hoped so, he really did, but there was a hollow glint in Sawyer's eyes that never used to be there. He'd lost all sense of purpose while he was on that island, hadn't he?
"Are you in town for long?" he asked after clearing his throat.
"Haven't decided yet," Sawyer said. He picked up a packet of sugar from the container in the centre of the table, ripping the top off and pouring the contents into his tall cup. "You think I oughta stick around?"
"Sure." Charlie shrugged. "I can show you around if you'd like."
It was meant as a polite offer, an empty welcome, but Sawyer effortlessly caught and held his gaze. "I'd like that," he said. "I'd like that a whole lot."
Charlie smiled and nodded, at ease around him in a way he never had been on the island. "One guided tour of Manchester coming up," he said. "Can't promise you anything too grand, though. I kind of decided to come back here 'cause, well, it's ordinary."
"I like ordinary," Sawyer said. "After all we've been through I'd say 'ordinary' is one hell of a welcome change."
It was easier once they got going - instead of having to make idle, uninterested chit-chat Charlie could talk about where they were going, what they were seeing, and the spotted tales and anecdotes that he remembered about the old streets and buildings. Sawyer was easier company than he remembered, even if dressed in his leather jacket and toting shades he looked more intimidating than ever. Smiled the same, though. Talked the same. Teased the same.
It was getting late and Charlie's stomach was itching with the need for food by the time they stopped on the pavement. Charlie looked around thoughtfully. "D'you want to go for dinner?" he suggested. "I'm starving. Kinda forgot to eat lunch, actually. It's-" He paused when Sawyer grabbed the collar of his jacket and braced himself, ready for the stab of pain that usually came when someone punched him. This time it didn't arrive - Sawyer just grabbed his jacket and held on. "Sawyer, what the hell? Have you lost your sodding mind?"
Sawyer gave a frustrated sigh. "Anyone ever tell you, Pace, you talk way too much?"
Plenty of people - I just never paid them too much attention, Charlie thought, but he was interrupted before he could voice as much, interrupted by Sawyer yanking at his jacket to pull him a little closer than necessary, interrupted by the feel of Sawyer's breath skating over his skin, interrupted by the way Sawyer's head tilted low towards his and interrupted - finally - by the crush of Sawyer's lips to his. Tasted like smoke, like desperation, like the world was ending. Charlie's hands flailed uselessly before he settled them on Sawyer's biceps and shoved him back lightly.
"Been waiting for the right time to do that all afternoon," Sawyer said when he let go of him abruptly.
Charlie took a step or two backwards. "You - what?"
Sawyer stuck his thumbs into his pockets, smiling with the empty echo of innocence. Nothing Sawyer did could ever pass as 'innocent', but he certainly tried it. "Well, you ain't hit me yet," he said. "That's a better reaction than I was expecting."
"Give me a minute," Charlie grumbled. "I'm working up to it."
"Don't work too hard." Sawyer stayed smirking, watching him with mischievous mirth glinting in his eyes. "Might strain something."
"Would you care to explain what the hell just happened, or are you gonna spend the evening taking the piss instead?"
"Doing both ain't an option?"
Charlie scowled. "You weren't really 'just in town', were you?"
"Not exactly." Sawyer shrugged with the grace of a bashful god. "I was looking for a familiar face."
Not a friendly one, clearly. There were far better ports of call if that had been his purpose.
"What d'you mean?"
"Means…Fuck, do I gotta explain everything to you?"
"Yeah, actually. Explain."
"Means I got an invitation, Charlie," Sawyer said. His false bluster faded away for once. "Checked through my post a couple of days ago - 'You are invited to the wedding of Kate Austen and Jack Shephard'."
Charlie winced. He had an invitation of his own pinned on the notice board in his flat: he hadn't thought that Sawyer would have received one too. He supposed, though, that Jack wouldn't have wanted to exclude him. Despite their tangled little triangle, Sawyer was still one of them. A survivor - bound by the glue of shared experiences.
Sawyer sighed and paced away from him, landing up leaning by a nearby lamp post. After a moment of thought, Charlie trailed after him.
"So, now I get why you turned up in Manchester," he mused, swinging one foot by the kerb. Sawyer watched him as cautiously as he'd watch a snake about to strike. "But - I still don't get why you just kissed me."
If it had been companionship that Sawyer had been after then there were several easier people to turn to. If he'd been trying to make Kate jealous then finding Juliet would have done a much better job.
"I wanted a distraction," Sawyer sighed. "I wanted to stop thinking about her for once in my goddamn life."
Charlie looked up at him, working hard to make sure that no pity stained his eyes. "Distractions I can do," he said - dinner, getting some good food in their stomach, then they'd be out on the town to get rip-roaringly drunk. "Distraction but no funny business, okay? I'm not into men. Promise?"
Sawyer's eyes twinkled. "I promise not to let my hands go wandering where they shouldn't," he said - his eyes travelling heatedly over the place his hands couldn't roam.
Despite that promise, though, Charlie couldn't say that he was altogether surprised when he ended the evening face-down in Sawyer's hotel bed: trousers by his knees, Sawyer plastered against his back, and small, keening whimpers tripping from his lips.
*
It wasn't until Sawyer's sixth visit - sixth in two months - that Charlie sat thoughtfully, head in Sawyer's lap, as he wondered how to ask. There was a football game on the television and a beer in Sawyer's left hand. His right hand was preoccupied with Charlie's hair, stroking it as if in a trance. Charlie wasn't paying any attention to the game: he'd found it too hard to keep up with the footie teams since being gone. No passion remained.
The wiry hair on Sawyer's bare leg tickled his face every time he moved - which wasn't often. Lying peacefully in Sawyer's hotel suite, he felt more content than he had since the island. He only wished that 'content' translated to 'secure'.
"Sawyer?" he asked, not shifting his eyes from the television. "This… You, me, us… Is it a - regular thing now?"
He hated asking that question and he hated the itchy silence that followed. This was the part where Sawyer would storm out, wasn't it? Charlie had never really understood why he'd turned up, never mind why he kept on turning up.
Sawyer cleared his throat and shuffled around, jostling Charlie's head. "Could be," he said.
"'Could be'." Charlie sighed. "Well, that is a very precise answer, isn't it?"
Sawyer sighed at him in turn, exaggerating it. "I mean 'could be' - if that's what you want."
"Oh." He spent a quiet moment staring at the television screen, watching the ball being passed back and forth and kicked to soaring heights. Rolling over onto his back, he looked up at Sawyer and tried to read the hidden expression on his face. It was a tighter mystery than he could unravel. "Well, yeah. I mean, I'd want that."
"Then you got it." It didn't take a decoder ring to help him make sense of the expression on Sawyer's face now - a giddy little smile. "Should've known you were the type that needed settlin' down."
"We're not 'settling down'!" Charlie protested. "We're just… Not screwing around? Or, well… I don't know. I just wanted to know whether to expect you back each time you leave. Waiting and not-knowing's not much fun."
"Okay," Sawyer said, allowing his hand to slip down Charlie's front, over his chest. "If I plan on not returning, I'll make sure you know about it."
"Right. Good." Deceptively easy, in fact. Charlie had expected to have to suffer through a lot more teasing than that. "Thanks."
Sawyer gave an unamused chuckle, his hand pausing its downward journey when it reached his navel. He rested there like a warm rock. "No problem," he said. "Think you're just about the only thing keeping me sane these days."
Charlie wriggled and shuffled until he could sit up, snatching a kiss from Sawyer's unhappy lips. "Never reckoned it'd all turn out like this," he muttered.
Sawyer's head rested against his shoulder, limp. "Really didn't," he agreed, hollow and empty.
Charlie's arms moved like those of a stiff mannequin's around his shoulders: he'd been through it often enough to know what it looked like when someone was falling apart, hitting rock bottom, self-destructing. He held onto him, offering the warmth from skin. Knowing how to recognise it didn't mean he knew how to help.
*
Took another six weeks before he decided to mention it to Claire. It wasn't a secret, not exactly. He just didn't have the vocabulary to know how to talk about it. Whether or not there was an 'it' to talk about also remained a difficult issue. Sawyer turned up once a week or so to demand sex and companionship, two things that Charlie could provide readily.
"So… you're dating him?" Claire asked, her voice crackling along the phone line with disbelief. "Really?"
"Not exactly." Charlie rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. He wished - as he always did when he heard her voice - that she was there with him instead of half-way across the world. His visits to see her and Aaron could never be frequent enough. "Dating would actually require us to have, y'know, dates."
"And you don't?"
"Nah. He just turns up, lets himself in, eats, then we, uh-" He let the awkward pause speak for itself: the weight of history between him and Claire made it too awkward to talk about that. "Then we laze about for a bit before he buggers off again. It's weird."
"Yeah," Claire hummed. "Hurley was saying he's been worried about him, that something seems off. Maybe-"
"Christ, Claire, do not tell Hurley about this. It's bad enough telling you."
He could hear from her tone the way she rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not going to spill your dirty little secret, Charlie - but it's going to come out eventually, isn't it? All it would take would be one picture of you two to turn up in the papers and…"
Charlie could read everything that she wouldn't say in the silence. "I don't think he's doing it maliciously - if he was trying to get back at Kate and Jack there are way easier targets."
"You're probably right," Claire sighed. "Just be careful, Charlie. I don’t want to see you get hurt."
"Not particularly keen on getting hurt either," Charlie said, as light as he could - but he knew she was right. This could only end in disaster, in broken hearts and wounded egos. Sawyer was poised in just the right position to hurt him bad, to hurt him deep. He'd only just healed from the sting of rejection with Claire. "Don't go worrying about me."
"You are good at taking care of yourself, I suppose," Claire murmured. Sometimes, hearing things like that, Charlie wondered if his closest friend actually knew him at all. He let the conversation drift to softer, easier places from that point on.
His heart winced and throbbed with every mention of Aaron, his little one. The pain of separation was almost too much to take. "I'll be back over there in a few months," he promised eagerly. "Got to see the tyke off to his first day of school, don't I?"
"He misses you, Charlie. He keeps asking me when 'Daddy' is coming home."
"Soon," Charlie promised, eyes closed as he struggled to sound normal. It had been too painful when he'd lived over there, so close to perfection but too dirty to touch it. He couldn't decide if putting the globe between them made it easier or harder. "Soon, I promise. Is he there?"
"Pre-school," Claire answered. "I'm sorry."
"No, no… It's fine, really. I should've known - time difference, it gets me every time."
"He'll be bummed that he missed you."
Thinking of Aaron's cheerful disposition - and that alone brought another stab of pain to his heart - Charlie very much doubted if he'd ever manage to be 'bummed' for too long. "Give him a real big hug for me."
"I will, Charlie," Claire promised gently. "I will."
Once she'd hung up, he lasted only for about half a minute before he found himself reaching for the phone again. That half-minute - thirty scant seconds - was spent watching his hand as it trembled and shook. Sawyer should have been the very last person on his mind right now, but that was the number he called. He'd never tried to contact Sawyer this way before, but it was answered within three rings.
"Sawyer?" Charlie asked. His voice was stronger than he'd expected. "How far away are you? I kind of want to see you tonight."
Sawyer breathed static at him. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, fine. I was just on the phone to Claire, and…" He didn't know how he could tell Sawyer any of this. There was still a deep-rooted part of him that expected Sawyer to snap, snarl, snark and drag him down further. "Aaron wasn't there. I guess I'm just…"
"Give me a couple of hours," Sawyer said. "I'll be there, kid."
"Thanks," Charlie murmured. He felt like he'd fallen into a safety net. "Sorry if I'm… I dunno."
"It's fine. I'm glad you called me. I gotta go now, though. You'll be okay by yourself for a bit, right?"
"I'm not gonna fall apart if that's what you mean, mate."
Sawyer gave a disbelieving huff but seemed to decide to take him at his word. "See you soon," he promised before hanging up.
Charlie placed his phone down and wandered aimlessly to the different rooms of the apartment. He picked up a pen at one point, hovering over the half-written songs spread on his desktop. Nothing came. He abandoned the attempt and stood up again. Walked into the kitchen and considered making something to eat. Gave up on that when he realised that he wasn't remotely hungry and moved to stare vacantly out of the window instead, out at the evening's sky. Manchester's' skyline continued to buzz and bustle at all times.
Time crawled. Slowly. Slowly.
By the time he heard the sound of Sawyer's key in the lock he was calmer - but only, he supposed, because he'd known he was coming. He'd known that this loneliness wouldn't and couldn't last for much longer. "I'm through here," he yelled when he heard Sawyer calling his name.
Heavy footfalls. "Are you trying to scare the hell outta me?" Sawyer asked, exasperated, when he cleared the room.
Charlie looked finally away from the window, over his shoulder. Sawyer looked stressed out, tired and angry. "Sorry," Charlie sighed.
"Don't fucking apologise," Sawyer grumbled. "I was worried. That's all."
"Worried about me?" Charlie let his tension rush away in a sigh when Sawyer reached him, arms slipping around him. Charlie rested his forehead against Sawyer's chest. "I'm being daft."
"You're missing your family," Sawyer murmured, holding onto him. "That's not 'daft'. It's human."
Charlie had nothing further to say following that and let them stand together in silence. Sawyer's arms around him were more comforting than they should have been: he couldn't understand when this man had become such a supporting stone in his life. He'd thought he was the one holding Sawyer together - now, in gentle silence, he was beginning to think it was the other way around.
"Can we go out somewhere?" he asked quietly. "Tomorrow. We never go anywhere."
"Where've you got in mind?"
"I dunno." His pregnant pause lasted a lifetime. He bit his bottom lip thoughtfully then confessed. "Claire asked if we were dating."
"Yeah?" Sawyer's hand stilled where it had been in the relaxing process of stroking his back. Charlie swallowed. "And what'd you tell her?"
"Said we didn't go on any dates," Charlie mumbled.
Any embarrassment was short-lived and short-term. Sawyer chuckled by his ear, chest rumbling, and picked him up effortlessly. Charlie would have scolded him for the indignity but he was too busy making sure that Sawyer wouldn't drop him. His legs moved around Sawyer's waist; his arms would his shoulders. Sawyer held him up like he hardly weighed anything at all. "Guess I'd better start takin' you out," Sawyer mused, lips as hair's-breadth from Charlie's own. "Can't let our Claire start thinkin' we ain't serious."
Charlie didn't know if they were serious - he didn't know anything at all about this bloody relationship - but that didn't stop him from laughing and playing along when Sawyer carried him through to the bedroom and made sure that all traces of loneliness were firmly banished from his mind.
*
Part Two
Pairing: Charlie/Sawyer (Jack/Kate, one-sided Kate/Sawyer)
Word Count: 5900 overall
Rating: R
A/N: A very, very self-indulgent story I wrote while on holiday for lostpicksix's "Chance encounter" prompt, set in a future that pretends Through The Looking Glass never happened.
Summary: It starts in a coffee shop, or maybe it doesn't. Maybe it started long before either of them realised it.
Charlie didn't look up when he first felt the weight of someone's eyes on him. His skin prickled but he tried not to le it bother him too much. People always stared these days, didn't they? Why wouldn't they? As one of the gaggle of survivors from Oceanic Flight 815 - and a former rock star as well - he was something of an oddity. A rare find. The shiniest gem in the jewel box.
He'd loved it in the first few weeks. One little plane crash - and the months of disastrous danger that had followed - had brought him all the fame that he and Liam had spent years chasing. Now people asked for his autograph. Now they stared at him in coffee shops.
And now it was bloody annoying. Why had he and Liam ever wanted this so much? They must have been completely mad. There was no other explanation.
He flipped the page of his newspaper and scanned the headlines as he took a wincing sip from his cup of god-awful coffee. Nothing seemed especially gripping. It was hard, really, to get in tune with the outside world again. Even months later it all felt strangely irrelevant. He placed his cup down and flipped the page again without bother to read the full articles.
That person, whoever they were, was still watching him. He could feel it.
With a frustrated huff he looked up, ready to glare and rant and complain if necessary. Glancing around the small selection of tables he paused when he found the culprit - paused and stared, bemused, at the unexpected watcher.
Same blond hair, same blue eyes, same infuriating smirk. It was Sawyer, alright.
So, Charlie thought as he watched him for a few unsteady seconds, what the hell brings Sawyer to Manchester?
He folded his paper in half and placed it down on the table before he waved Sawyer over - he found an awkward burst of nerves rushing through him in anticipation of all the stretching silences that no doubt awaited them. He'd had no reason to contact Sawyer since they'd got to the mainland, to freedom. They'd rarely talked while on the island and he'd seen no reason to start once they'd escaped.
As he watched Sawyer stand - and he really was an annoyingly tall bastard, wasn't he? - he was therefore surprised by the rush of warmth that spread through him. Sawyer lumbered over and Charlie smiled. He must have missed him, in an odd kind of way.
"Definitely didn't expect to see you here," he said as Sawyer slouched into the seat opposite him.
The smug bastard was already smirking, that neat little grin that made all the girls' hearts start pitter-pattering. Those bloody dimples, they were to blame. "Wasn't exactly planning on running into you either."
"Really?" Charlie asked sceptically. "So you just happened to be in my city in the same coffee shop as me?"
"Yeah. Damn bad luck, I guess." Sawyer hadn't stopped smirking for even one scant second. "I'm just travellin' around at the moment."
"I know. Hurley told me. He said you took off after Kate and Jack --"
"And what about you?" Sawyer said sharply. "Heard you're writing these days?"
"Song-writing, yeah," Charlie confirmed. "It's going okay."
"I figured you would've got that 'rock' band together again. Driveshaft. Thought you were dying to be our next big thing."
Charlie shrugged. "I was - but I got over it. Grew up, I guess."
Funny the changes that one little plane crash could bring about. After the rescue, becoming an overnight success hadn't seemed too important any more. He wrote; he composed. He heard his music on the radio sang by singers who were slightly more competent than he or Liam had ever been and he also heard it mangled in the 'dance remixes'. The royalties trickled into his fattening bank account. Life was going pretty well.
He wondered if Sawyer could say the same thing. He hoped so, he really did, but there was a hollow glint in Sawyer's eyes that never used to be there. He'd lost all sense of purpose while he was on that island, hadn't he?
"Are you in town for long?" he asked after clearing his throat.
"Haven't decided yet," Sawyer said. He picked up a packet of sugar from the container in the centre of the table, ripping the top off and pouring the contents into his tall cup. "You think I oughta stick around?"
"Sure." Charlie shrugged. "I can show you around if you'd like."
It was meant as a polite offer, an empty welcome, but Sawyer effortlessly caught and held his gaze. "I'd like that," he said. "I'd like that a whole lot."
Charlie smiled and nodded, at ease around him in a way he never had been on the island. "One guided tour of Manchester coming up," he said. "Can't promise you anything too grand, though. I kind of decided to come back here 'cause, well, it's ordinary."
"I like ordinary," Sawyer said. "After all we've been through I'd say 'ordinary' is one hell of a welcome change."
It was easier once they got going - instead of having to make idle, uninterested chit-chat Charlie could talk about where they were going, what they were seeing, and the spotted tales and anecdotes that he remembered about the old streets and buildings. Sawyer was easier company than he remembered, even if dressed in his leather jacket and toting shades he looked more intimidating than ever. Smiled the same, though. Talked the same. Teased the same.
It was getting late and Charlie's stomach was itching with the need for food by the time they stopped on the pavement. Charlie looked around thoughtfully. "D'you want to go for dinner?" he suggested. "I'm starving. Kinda forgot to eat lunch, actually. It's-" He paused when Sawyer grabbed the collar of his jacket and braced himself, ready for the stab of pain that usually came when someone punched him. This time it didn't arrive - Sawyer just grabbed his jacket and held on. "Sawyer, what the hell? Have you lost your sodding mind?"
Sawyer gave a frustrated sigh. "Anyone ever tell you, Pace, you talk way too much?"
Plenty of people - I just never paid them too much attention, Charlie thought, but he was interrupted before he could voice as much, interrupted by Sawyer yanking at his jacket to pull him a little closer than necessary, interrupted by the feel of Sawyer's breath skating over his skin, interrupted by the way Sawyer's head tilted low towards his and interrupted - finally - by the crush of Sawyer's lips to his. Tasted like smoke, like desperation, like the world was ending. Charlie's hands flailed uselessly before he settled them on Sawyer's biceps and shoved him back lightly.
"Been waiting for the right time to do that all afternoon," Sawyer said when he let go of him abruptly.
Charlie took a step or two backwards. "You - what?"
Sawyer stuck his thumbs into his pockets, smiling with the empty echo of innocence. Nothing Sawyer did could ever pass as 'innocent', but he certainly tried it. "Well, you ain't hit me yet," he said. "That's a better reaction than I was expecting."
"Give me a minute," Charlie grumbled. "I'm working up to it."
"Don't work too hard." Sawyer stayed smirking, watching him with mischievous mirth glinting in his eyes. "Might strain something."
"Would you care to explain what the hell just happened, or are you gonna spend the evening taking the piss instead?"
"Doing both ain't an option?"
Charlie scowled. "You weren't really 'just in town', were you?"
"Not exactly." Sawyer shrugged with the grace of a bashful god. "I was looking for a familiar face."
Not a friendly one, clearly. There were far better ports of call if that had been his purpose.
"What d'you mean?"
"Means…Fuck, do I gotta explain everything to you?"
"Yeah, actually. Explain."
"Means I got an invitation, Charlie," Sawyer said. His false bluster faded away for once. "Checked through my post a couple of days ago - 'You are invited to the wedding of Kate Austen and Jack Shephard'."
Charlie winced. He had an invitation of his own pinned on the notice board in his flat: he hadn't thought that Sawyer would have received one too. He supposed, though, that Jack wouldn't have wanted to exclude him. Despite their tangled little triangle, Sawyer was still one of them. A survivor - bound by the glue of shared experiences.
Sawyer sighed and paced away from him, landing up leaning by a nearby lamp post. After a moment of thought, Charlie trailed after him.
"So, now I get why you turned up in Manchester," he mused, swinging one foot by the kerb. Sawyer watched him as cautiously as he'd watch a snake about to strike. "But - I still don't get why you just kissed me."
If it had been companionship that Sawyer had been after then there were several easier people to turn to. If he'd been trying to make Kate jealous then finding Juliet would have done a much better job.
"I wanted a distraction," Sawyer sighed. "I wanted to stop thinking about her for once in my goddamn life."
Charlie looked up at him, working hard to make sure that no pity stained his eyes. "Distractions I can do," he said - dinner, getting some good food in their stomach, then they'd be out on the town to get rip-roaringly drunk. "Distraction but no funny business, okay? I'm not into men. Promise?"
Sawyer's eyes twinkled. "I promise not to let my hands go wandering where they shouldn't," he said - his eyes travelling heatedly over the place his hands couldn't roam.
Despite that promise, though, Charlie couldn't say that he was altogether surprised when he ended the evening face-down in Sawyer's hotel bed: trousers by his knees, Sawyer plastered against his back, and small, keening whimpers tripping from his lips.
*
It wasn't until Sawyer's sixth visit - sixth in two months - that Charlie sat thoughtfully, head in Sawyer's lap, as he wondered how to ask. There was a football game on the television and a beer in Sawyer's left hand. His right hand was preoccupied with Charlie's hair, stroking it as if in a trance. Charlie wasn't paying any attention to the game: he'd found it too hard to keep up with the footie teams since being gone. No passion remained.
The wiry hair on Sawyer's bare leg tickled his face every time he moved - which wasn't often. Lying peacefully in Sawyer's hotel suite, he felt more content than he had since the island. He only wished that 'content' translated to 'secure'.
"Sawyer?" he asked, not shifting his eyes from the television. "This… You, me, us… Is it a - regular thing now?"
He hated asking that question and he hated the itchy silence that followed. This was the part where Sawyer would storm out, wasn't it? Charlie had never really understood why he'd turned up, never mind why he kept on turning up.
Sawyer cleared his throat and shuffled around, jostling Charlie's head. "Could be," he said.
"'Could be'." Charlie sighed. "Well, that is a very precise answer, isn't it?"
Sawyer sighed at him in turn, exaggerating it. "I mean 'could be' - if that's what you want."
"Oh." He spent a quiet moment staring at the television screen, watching the ball being passed back and forth and kicked to soaring heights. Rolling over onto his back, he looked up at Sawyer and tried to read the hidden expression on his face. It was a tighter mystery than he could unravel. "Well, yeah. I mean, I'd want that."
"Then you got it." It didn't take a decoder ring to help him make sense of the expression on Sawyer's face now - a giddy little smile. "Should've known you were the type that needed settlin' down."
"We're not 'settling down'!" Charlie protested. "We're just… Not screwing around? Or, well… I don't know. I just wanted to know whether to expect you back each time you leave. Waiting and not-knowing's not much fun."
"Okay," Sawyer said, allowing his hand to slip down Charlie's front, over his chest. "If I plan on not returning, I'll make sure you know about it."
"Right. Good." Deceptively easy, in fact. Charlie had expected to have to suffer through a lot more teasing than that. "Thanks."
Sawyer gave an unamused chuckle, his hand pausing its downward journey when it reached his navel. He rested there like a warm rock. "No problem," he said. "Think you're just about the only thing keeping me sane these days."
Charlie wriggled and shuffled until he could sit up, snatching a kiss from Sawyer's unhappy lips. "Never reckoned it'd all turn out like this," he muttered.
Sawyer's head rested against his shoulder, limp. "Really didn't," he agreed, hollow and empty.
Charlie's arms moved like those of a stiff mannequin's around his shoulders: he'd been through it often enough to know what it looked like when someone was falling apart, hitting rock bottom, self-destructing. He held onto him, offering the warmth from skin. Knowing how to recognise it didn't mean he knew how to help.
*
Took another six weeks before he decided to mention it to Claire. It wasn't a secret, not exactly. He just didn't have the vocabulary to know how to talk about it. Whether or not there was an 'it' to talk about also remained a difficult issue. Sawyer turned up once a week or so to demand sex and companionship, two things that Charlie could provide readily.
"So… you're dating him?" Claire asked, her voice crackling along the phone line with disbelief. "Really?"
"Not exactly." Charlie rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. He wished - as he always did when he heard her voice - that she was there with him instead of half-way across the world. His visits to see her and Aaron could never be frequent enough. "Dating would actually require us to have, y'know, dates."
"And you don't?"
"Nah. He just turns up, lets himself in, eats, then we, uh-" He let the awkward pause speak for itself: the weight of history between him and Claire made it too awkward to talk about that. "Then we laze about for a bit before he buggers off again. It's weird."
"Yeah," Claire hummed. "Hurley was saying he's been worried about him, that something seems off. Maybe-"
"Christ, Claire, do not tell Hurley about this. It's bad enough telling you."
He could hear from her tone the way she rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not going to spill your dirty little secret, Charlie - but it's going to come out eventually, isn't it? All it would take would be one picture of you two to turn up in the papers and…"
Charlie could read everything that she wouldn't say in the silence. "I don't think he's doing it maliciously - if he was trying to get back at Kate and Jack there are way easier targets."
"You're probably right," Claire sighed. "Just be careful, Charlie. I don’t want to see you get hurt."
"Not particularly keen on getting hurt either," Charlie said, as light as he could - but he knew she was right. This could only end in disaster, in broken hearts and wounded egos. Sawyer was poised in just the right position to hurt him bad, to hurt him deep. He'd only just healed from the sting of rejection with Claire. "Don't go worrying about me."
"You are good at taking care of yourself, I suppose," Claire murmured. Sometimes, hearing things like that, Charlie wondered if his closest friend actually knew him at all. He let the conversation drift to softer, easier places from that point on.
His heart winced and throbbed with every mention of Aaron, his little one. The pain of separation was almost too much to take. "I'll be back over there in a few months," he promised eagerly. "Got to see the tyke off to his first day of school, don't I?"
"He misses you, Charlie. He keeps asking me when 'Daddy' is coming home."
"Soon," Charlie promised, eyes closed as he struggled to sound normal. It had been too painful when he'd lived over there, so close to perfection but too dirty to touch it. He couldn't decide if putting the globe between them made it easier or harder. "Soon, I promise. Is he there?"
"Pre-school," Claire answered. "I'm sorry."
"No, no… It's fine, really. I should've known - time difference, it gets me every time."
"He'll be bummed that he missed you."
Thinking of Aaron's cheerful disposition - and that alone brought another stab of pain to his heart - Charlie very much doubted if he'd ever manage to be 'bummed' for too long. "Give him a real big hug for me."
"I will, Charlie," Claire promised gently. "I will."
Once she'd hung up, he lasted only for about half a minute before he found himself reaching for the phone again. That half-minute - thirty scant seconds - was spent watching his hand as it trembled and shook. Sawyer should have been the very last person on his mind right now, but that was the number he called. He'd never tried to contact Sawyer this way before, but it was answered within three rings.
"Sawyer?" Charlie asked. His voice was stronger than he'd expected. "How far away are you? I kind of want to see you tonight."
Sawyer breathed static at him. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, fine. I was just on the phone to Claire, and…" He didn't know how he could tell Sawyer any of this. There was still a deep-rooted part of him that expected Sawyer to snap, snarl, snark and drag him down further. "Aaron wasn't there. I guess I'm just…"
"Give me a couple of hours," Sawyer said. "I'll be there, kid."
"Thanks," Charlie murmured. He felt like he'd fallen into a safety net. "Sorry if I'm… I dunno."
"It's fine. I'm glad you called me. I gotta go now, though. You'll be okay by yourself for a bit, right?"
"I'm not gonna fall apart if that's what you mean, mate."
Sawyer gave a disbelieving huff but seemed to decide to take him at his word. "See you soon," he promised before hanging up.
Charlie placed his phone down and wandered aimlessly to the different rooms of the apartment. He picked up a pen at one point, hovering over the half-written songs spread on his desktop. Nothing came. He abandoned the attempt and stood up again. Walked into the kitchen and considered making something to eat. Gave up on that when he realised that he wasn't remotely hungry and moved to stare vacantly out of the window instead, out at the evening's sky. Manchester's' skyline continued to buzz and bustle at all times.
Time crawled. Slowly. Slowly.
By the time he heard the sound of Sawyer's key in the lock he was calmer - but only, he supposed, because he'd known he was coming. He'd known that this loneliness wouldn't and couldn't last for much longer. "I'm through here," he yelled when he heard Sawyer calling his name.
Heavy footfalls. "Are you trying to scare the hell outta me?" Sawyer asked, exasperated, when he cleared the room.
Charlie looked finally away from the window, over his shoulder. Sawyer looked stressed out, tired and angry. "Sorry," Charlie sighed.
"Don't fucking apologise," Sawyer grumbled. "I was worried. That's all."
"Worried about me?" Charlie let his tension rush away in a sigh when Sawyer reached him, arms slipping around him. Charlie rested his forehead against Sawyer's chest. "I'm being daft."
"You're missing your family," Sawyer murmured, holding onto him. "That's not 'daft'. It's human."
Charlie had nothing further to say following that and let them stand together in silence. Sawyer's arms around him were more comforting than they should have been: he couldn't understand when this man had become such a supporting stone in his life. He'd thought he was the one holding Sawyer together - now, in gentle silence, he was beginning to think it was the other way around.
"Can we go out somewhere?" he asked quietly. "Tomorrow. We never go anywhere."
"Where've you got in mind?"
"I dunno." His pregnant pause lasted a lifetime. He bit his bottom lip thoughtfully then confessed. "Claire asked if we were dating."
"Yeah?" Sawyer's hand stilled where it had been in the relaxing process of stroking his back. Charlie swallowed. "And what'd you tell her?"
"Said we didn't go on any dates," Charlie mumbled.
Any embarrassment was short-lived and short-term. Sawyer chuckled by his ear, chest rumbling, and picked him up effortlessly. Charlie would have scolded him for the indignity but he was too busy making sure that Sawyer wouldn't drop him. His legs moved around Sawyer's waist; his arms would his shoulders. Sawyer held him up like he hardly weighed anything at all. "Guess I'd better start takin' you out," Sawyer mused, lips as hair's-breadth from Charlie's own. "Can't let our Claire start thinkin' we ain't serious."
Charlie didn't know if they were serious - he didn't know anything at all about this bloody relationship - but that didn't stop him from laughing and playing along when Sawyer carried him through to the bedroom and made sure that all traces of loneliness were firmly banished from his mind.
*
Part Two