Fic, Lost: The Ground Beneath His Feet (Jack/Sawyer), PG, for lostfichallenge
I mean, I wrote this in half an hour and it took me one to find the title. *headdesk* And I'll be off to university now *sigh*.
Title: The Ground Beneath His Feet
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer (sort of)
Word counting: 1000
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Come on, if they were I'd be much richer than I am.
Spoilers: General S4, implied the finale.
Summary: Sawyer doesn’t ask him anything; why is he alone, are the others coming too, where are they in case they are alive, how and from where did he swim up here.
A/N: written for lostfichallenge #74, pictures. The one I chose is under the cut. Also using for 10_shakespeare, "The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.". Don't ask me why those two were the first I thought about when seeing that picture, it just came and I had to get it out, even if I still think that it's one of the most difficult pairings to write ever existed and I don't really know where it came from or where it wanted to go. Title shamelessly stolen from a U2 song after more time spent searching for a sort of decent one than for writing this whole thing.
Inspired by this picture:
The wood of the dock is cold under his bare feet. He doesn’t doubt that the water Jack is immersed in feels even colder.
Sawyer doesn’t ask him anything; why is he alone, are the others coming too, where are they in case they are alive, how and from where did he swim up here.
He just crouches, extends a hand out and helps Jack standing, not surprised when Jack’s hands go to his arms in order to steady himself. His legs tremble for a while before he stands without swaying.
It’s enough for Sawyer to have a look at him; the dark circles under his eyes, longer hair, wet and torn clothes, a stubble which threatens to move into beard territory. Sawyer can safely say that his shaving is way better than Jack’s and it’s not like he has any electric razors at hand.
Jack doesn’t ask him why he’s alone, either; Sawyer doesn’t pressure it.
When Jack’s hands leave his arms they just stand there on the dock, looking and not looking at each other; Sawyer glances down and sees that Jack’s feet are bare, too.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before Jack speaks.
“I’m sorry.”
Sawyer nods when Jack’s head turns towards him; he knows and he isn’t angry at him, or at them. Believing that they were all dead didn’t last long anyway, no hard feelings.
“No need to be.”
“I was an idiot.”, he answers, his voice slurring a bit.
“Wise for you to recognize it, then. Took you a long time to admit what I’ve been tellin’ you since day one.”
Jack doesn’t answer and Sawyer guesses that not answering means agreeing.
A light breeze comes suddenly between them and Jack shivers, of course, there isn’t an inch of him which is dry.
There are a lot of things Sawyer would like to ask him, but it doesn’t look like Jack is in any shape to answer anything. Then he shivers again and sneezes; Sawyer has an idea that the less he stays here the better it would be, but when he comes closer, in order to tell him that they should go, Jack shakes his head and his fingers grasp lightly his arms again. His head is bent down; they don’t look at each other, but Jack’s hands are there and Sawyer trembles, too, for a second; then Jack’s hands leave again and he takes one step that Sawyer figures was in order to leave the dock, or at least move.
It’s a false one though and Sawyer ends up catching him before he falls down, his hands on Jack’s hips, one of Jack’s arms behind his neck, the other on his arm again.
They don’t move, then; Jack’s breath is strangely hot against his cheek and their knees are touching; the wood under Sawyer’s feet gets colder by the second and it’s a strange sensation, considering that his whole body is feeling strangely warm right now. Jack’s clothes are not as wet as they were before and his skin is not as cold as Sawyer could expect; nonetheless, he knows they should go, that they should talk, that there are important matters to discuss.
Sawyer doesn’t move and neither does Jack; it’s when Sawyer shifts one leg just slightly and the skin of their feet brush that Jack turns his head up and Sawyer finds himself staring into his eyes, the dark circles especially evident against Jack’s pale skin. He doesn’t remember him being so pale. Sawyer thinks for a disjointed second that he could really use more sunlight before noticing small wrinkles around Jack’s eyes, realizing that he looks older and well, he doesn’t want to say wiser but he can’t find a better word.
He wonders what Jack is seeing, then thinks that it really doesn’t matter and he doesn’t know why for a second he presses his lips to Jack’s, before retreating quickly. He doesn’t leave his position, though.
Jack doesn’t move either and the look in his eyes isn’t as questioning as Sawyer would have thought.
He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then shakes his head and Sawyer guesses it isn’t good news, but it’s not like he has any good news either.
He can almost hear Jack’s voice of the first weeks on the island in his head. This is a mistake. It’s stupid. It’s not wise.
But he has an idea that now Jack has realized that doing foolish things doesn’t mean being any less wiser and then Jack speaks.
“She didn’t come.”
No questioning and no further information; Sawyer understands right away and it hurts much less than it should have.
“She ain’t around much, these days.”, he answers, hoping that he doesn’t have to explain Jack everything behind that sentence.
Jack seems to understand what it means and then he’s closer, though maybe he’s not acting with an exact knowledge of what he’s doing; his lips hover along Sawyer’s again, his arm a bit stronger behind Sawyer’s shoulders. Sawyer figures it really wouldn’t be so foolish to take the last step, wouldn’t it?
So his head moves a bit forward and his lips caress Jack’s for a second before they finally meet halfway.
A droplet of water meets his tongue as soon as it trails along Jack’s upper lip, after all his hair is still dripping wet; it’s slow, as gentle as it goes and Sawyer wouldn’t have imagined to ever taste the ocean on Jack’s lips, but he does and he ignores everything else.
He wonders what Jack is thinking when his lips part and he gives Sawyer full access; he just knows that the hand on his back and the one on his arm grip tighter and it doesn’t really hurt.
The wood of the dock is cold under his bare feet but the rest of his body is drowning in a delicious kind of heat and for now he doesn’t need to know anything else.
End.
Title: The Ground Beneath His Feet
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer (sort of)
Word counting: 1000
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Come on, if they were I'd be much richer than I am.
Spoilers: General S4, implied the finale.
Summary: Sawyer doesn’t ask him anything; why is he alone, are the others coming too, where are they in case they are alive, how and from where did he swim up here.
A/N: written for lostfichallenge #74, pictures. The one I chose is under the cut. Also using for 10_shakespeare, "The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.". Don't ask me why those two were the first I thought about when seeing that picture, it just came and I had to get it out, even if I still think that it's one of the most difficult pairings to write ever existed and I don't really know where it came from or where it wanted to go. Title shamelessly stolen from a U2 song after more time spent searching for a sort of decent one than for writing this whole thing.
Inspired by this picture:
The wood of the dock is cold under his bare feet. He doesn’t doubt that the water Jack is immersed in feels even colder.
Sawyer doesn’t ask him anything; why is he alone, are the others coming too, where are they in case they are alive, how and from where did he swim up here.
He just crouches, extends a hand out and helps Jack standing, not surprised when Jack’s hands go to his arms in order to steady himself. His legs tremble for a while before he stands without swaying.
It’s enough for Sawyer to have a look at him; the dark circles under his eyes, longer hair, wet and torn clothes, a stubble which threatens to move into beard territory. Sawyer can safely say that his shaving is way better than Jack’s and it’s not like he has any electric razors at hand.
Jack doesn’t ask him why he’s alone, either; Sawyer doesn’t pressure it.
When Jack’s hands leave his arms they just stand there on the dock, looking and not looking at each other; Sawyer glances down and sees that Jack’s feet are bare, too.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before Jack speaks.
“I’m sorry.”
Sawyer nods when Jack’s head turns towards him; he knows and he isn’t angry at him, or at them. Believing that they were all dead didn’t last long anyway, no hard feelings.
“No need to be.”
“I was an idiot.”, he answers, his voice slurring a bit.
“Wise for you to recognize it, then. Took you a long time to admit what I’ve been tellin’ you since day one.”
Jack doesn’t answer and Sawyer guesses that not answering means agreeing.
A light breeze comes suddenly between them and Jack shivers, of course, there isn’t an inch of him which is dry.
There are a lot of things Sawyer would like to ask him, but it doesn’t look like Jack is in any shape to answer anything. Then he shivers again and sneezes; Sawyer has an idea that the less he stays here the better it would be, but when he comes closer, in order to tell him that they should go, Jack shakes his head and his fingers grasp lightly his arms again. His head is bent down; they don’t look at each other, but Jack’s hands are there and Sawyer trembles, too, for a second; then Jack’s hands leave again and he takes one step that Sawyer figures was in order to leave the dock, or at least move.
It’s a false one though and Sawyer ends up catching him before he falls down, his hands on Jack’s hips, one of Jack’s arms behind his neck, the other on his arm again.
They don’t move, then; Jack’s breath is strangely hot against his cheek and their knees are touching; the wood under Sawyer’s feet gets colder by the second and it’s a strange sensation, considering that his whole body is feeling strangely warm right now. Jack’s clothes are not as wet as they were before and his skin is not as cold as Sawyer could expect; nonetheless, he knows they should go, that they should talk, that there are important matters to discuss.
Sawyer doesn’t move and neither does Jack; it’s when Sawyer shifts one leg just slightly and the skin of their feet brush that Jack turns his head up and Sawyer finds himself staring into his eyes, the dark circles especially evident against Jack’s pale skin. He doesn’t remember him being so pale. Sawyer thinks for a disjointed second that he could really use more sunlight before noticing small wrinkles around Jack’s eyes, realizing that he looks older and well, he doesn’t want to say wiser but he can’t find a better word.
He wonders what Jack is seeing, then thinks that it really doesn’t matter and he doesn’t know why for a second he presses his lips to Jack’s, before retreating quickly. He doesn’t leave his position, though.
Jack doesn’t move either and the look in his eyes isn’t as questioning as Sawyer would have thought.
He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then shakes his head and Sawyer guesses it isn’t good news, but it’s not like he has any good news either.
He can almost hear Jack’s voice of the first weeks on the island in his head. This is a mistake. It’s stupid. It’s not wise.
But he has an idea that now Jack has realized that doing foolish things doesn’t mean being any less wiser and then Jack speaks.
“She didn’t come.”
No questioning and no further information; Sawyer understands right away and it hurts much less than it should have.
“She ain’t around much, these days.”, he answers, hoping that he doesn’t have to explain Jack everything behind that sentence.
Jack seems to understand what it means and then he’s closer, though maybe he’s not acting with an exact knowledge of what he’s doing; his lips hover along Sawyer’s again, his arm a bit stronger behind Sawyer’s shoulders. Sawyer figures it really wouldn’t be so foolish to take the last step, wouldn’t it?
So his head moves a bit forward and his lips caress Jack’s for a second before they finally meet halfway.
A droplet of water meets his tongue as soon as it trails along Jack’s upper lip, after all his hair is still dripping wet; it’s slow, as gentle as it goes and Sawyer wouldn’t have imagined to ever taste the ocean on Jack’s lips, but he does and he ignores everything else.
He wonders what Jack is thinking when his lips part and he gives Sawyer full access; he just knows that the hand on his back and the one on his arm grip tighter and it doesn’t really hurt.
The wood of the dock is cold under his bare feet but the rest of his body is drowning in a delicious kind of heat and for now he doesn’t need to know anything else.
End.