(no subject)
Title: Follower
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Shannon
Prompt:
uhzoomzip wanted Jack/Shannon and motorcycles for her day as queen over at
lostsquee
Word Count: 1,096
Rating: PG-13
Awards: Winner of Best Het Fic at
lost_fic_awards(August 2007)
Summary: AU. She looks closely at this man, on this motorcycle, because in an instant she realizes that he's no stranger.
Shannon’s always gone for the rich guys. The guys she knows can take care of her. Of course, by admitting that she realizes that she’s saying Boone was right. Not that he’ll ever know.
Point is, when she sees a man zoom past her on a motorcycle one night, she isn’t going to look at him twice. Not even when he’s stopped at a light, and she’s walking up to the same one.
She’s on her way home, back from a late night get together with friends she doesn’t necessarily get along with anymore but still goes out with. Force of habit, and maybe even loneliness. Shannon’s been lonely before, but that’s not something she likes to admit either.
The closer she gets to the motorcycle the more she can feel the vibrations it gives off. The feeling makes her shoot a look over at the leather jacket clad man, and there’s something so familiar about him. The way he holds himself, the confident front that she can see right through because she does the same thing. He’s trying to be something he isn’t. She’s been doing that all her life.
She looks closely at this man, on this motorcycle, because in an instant she realizes that he’s no stranger. He’s the same man who ran through a disaster area, thinking of others before himself, and he’s the same man that tried to save them all (and some might say that he did, physically), regardless as to whether or not they were beyond saving.
“Jack,” Shannon has to yell over the sound of the engine, but he hears her all the same.
He lifts his helmet, and the expression on his face is pure surprise. Of the two of them, she’s the one who should be surprised. “Shannon, what are you doing here?”
“Walking home,” she gestures to their surroundings, because they’re not really in a specific place. It’s a street; plenty of people pass each other every day, hell she almost passed him. “Since when do you ride?”
Jack looks almost sheepish, “It’s a new thing I’m trying out.”
“A mid-life crisis thing?” She asks. She doesn’t know his age; she never thought to ask on the island, never talked to him enough. Not even after Boone, after they suddenly had something in common. Grief.
“I’m not that old.” He tells her, smarting from her question, although it really had been said jokingly. It’s quiet after that. She hadn’t thought that far ahead into the conversation, wasn’t prepared to keep it afloat. She’s about to tell him that she’s really got to get going but maybe she’ll see him around, when he asks, “You want a ride?”
She hesitates a few seconds, but when she shifts her weight and feels the way her heels pinch at her toes she decides that she might as well get on, if just to save her shoes from any more wear. “Sure.”
---
This isn’t her first time on a motorcycle, so it doesn’t worry her when they pick up speed, or it dips to one side at a stop. She just holds on tight, ignoring the initial awkwardness that results from their current level of close contact, and lets herself enjoy the ride, the feeling of near invincibility.
It’s over too quickly though, and they pull up outside of her apartment complex. He cuts the engine, which to her implies this isn’t going to be a quick ‘thanks, see you later, bye’ type of thing. She’s not sure she minds. She doesn’t have anything, or anyone, waiting for her, and it’s not late enough for sleep.
He surveys the building, and she blushes, not particularly proud of her current living situation. Then again, she wasn’t so happy when she found out she no longer had a trust fund either. “Yeah, I know, not what you were expecting.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to run into you either, and I highly doubt you were expecting me to give you a ride home.” He says, with a shrug.
Shannon tries not to smile, but she does, teasing him, “You know, saying you’re a doctor is usually enough to pick up women. Don’t you think the bike is going overboard?”
She makes him uncomfortable, she knows, because of the way she just comes right out and says things, a practiced flirty edge to her voice. He’s not used to that. “That’s not what it’s for.”
For whatever reason, she takes a step closer to him, and he neither backs away nor closes the distance between them. “And what is it for?”
“It’s an escape,” he admits, after a moment.
She knows she can’t look too good right now. Her hair is a mess from the wind, the ends that frame her face sticky from her lip gloss, and, as one of her friends pointed out, there are dark circles under her eyes that no amount of concealer was covering. But under the dim streetlights that cut through the darkness, he doesn’t seem to care, as he pulls her to him, and kisses her. There’s no tentativeness to it, he just does it like he could care less about the consequences. It’s not smart, and it’s not the safe move, but neither is that damn motorcycle. She knows from watching him and Kate do their back and forth dance that the old Jack didn’t move this fast.
That doesn’t change the fact that they’re currently kissing in the parking lot, his hands on the small of her back, just under the silky material of her shirt, and she holds herself to him with one hand fisted into his t-shirt. They shouldn’t be doing this here. The thought that they probably shouldn’t be doing this at all doesn’t even cross her mind, because Shannon isn’t one who reads that far into kissing, or sex for that matter (and it’s surely going to lead there, and damn if she doesn’t need it to lead there).
She breaks the kiss, detaching herself from him. He looks confused, and also like he doesn’t quite want to let go, and she can see a bit of the old Jack there, always so worried about making the right moves, always worried about control and whether or not he has it. She’s something different, because she doesn’t allow him to be in control. She takes a few steps away from him, headed for the entrance to the complex, and when he doesn’t catch on, she turns back, eyebrow raised suggestively, “Are you coming?”
And for once Jack plays the follower.
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Shannon
Prompt:
uhzoomzip wanted Jack/Shannon and motorcycles for her day as queen over at
lostsquee
Word Count: 1,096
Rating: PG-13
Awards: Winner of Best Het Fic at
lost_fic_awards(August 2007)
Summary: AU. She looks closely at this man, on this motorcycle, because in an instant she realizes that he's no stranger.
Shannon’s always gone for the rich guys. The guys she knows can take care of her. Of course, by admitting that she realizes that she’s saying Boone was right. Not that he’ll ever know.
Point is, when she sees a man zoom past her on a motorcycle one night, she isn’t going to look at him twice. Not even when he’s stopped at a light, and she’s walking up to the same one.
She’s on her way home, back from a late night get together with friends she doesn’t necessarily get along with anymore but still goes out with. Force of habit, and maybe even loneliness. Shannon’s been lonely before, but that’s not something she likes to admit either.
The closer she gets to the motorcycle the more she can feel the vibrations it gives off. The feeling makes her shoot a look over at the leather jacket clad man, and there’s something so familiar about him. The way he holds himself, the confident front that she can see right through because she does the same thing. He’s trying to be something he isn’t. She’s been doing that all her life.
She looks closely at this man, on this motorcycle, because in an instant she realizes that he’s no stranger. He’s the same man who ran through a disaster area, thinking of others before himself, and he’s the same man that tried to save them all (and some might say that he did, physically), regardless as to whether or not they were beyond saving.
“Jack,” Shannon has to yell over the sound of the engine, but he hears her all the same.
He lifts his helmet, and the expression on his face is pure surprise. Of the two of them, she’s the one who should be surprised. “Shannon, what are you doing here?”
“Walking home,” she gestures to their surroundings, because they’re not really in a specific place. It’s a street; plenty of people pass each other every day, hell she almost passed him. “Since when do you ride?”
Jack looks almost sheepish, “It’s a new thing I’m trying out.”
“A mid-life crisis thing?” She asks. She doesn’t know his age; she never thought to ask on the island, never talked to him enough. Not even after Boone, after they suddenly had something in common. Grief.
“I’m not that old.” He tells her, smarting from her question, although it really had been said jokingly. It’s quiet after that. She hadn’t thought that far ahead into the conversation, wasn’t prepared to keep it afloat. She’s about to tell him that she’s really got to get going but maybe she’ll see him around, when he asks, “You want a ride?”
She hesitates a few seconds, but when she shifts her weight and feels the way her heels pinch at her toes she decides that she might as well get on, if just to save her shoes from any more wear. “Sure.”
---
This isn’t her first time on a motorcycle, so it doesn’t worry her when they pick up speed, or it dips to one side at a stop. She just holds on tight, ignoring the initial awkwardness that results from their current level of close contact, and lets herself enjoy the ride, the feeling of near invincibility.
It’s over too quickly though, and they pull up outside of her apartment complex. He cuts the engine, which to her implies this isn’t going to be a quick ‘thanks, see you later, bye’ type of thing. She’s not sure she minds. She doesn’t have anything, or anyone, waiting for her, and it’s not late enough for sleep.
He surveys the building, and she blushes, not particularly proud of her current living situation. Then again, she wasn’t so happy when she found out she no longer had a trust fund either. “Yeah, I know, not what you were expecting.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to run into you either, and I highly doubt you were expecting me to give you a ride home.” He says, with a shrug.
Shannon tries not to smile, but she does, teasing him, “You know, saying you’re a doctor is usually enough to pick up women. Don’t you think the bike is going overboard?”
She makes him uncomfortable, she knows, because of the way she just comes right out and says things, a practiced flirty edge to her voice. He’s not used to that. “That’s not what it’s for.”
For whatever reason, she takes a step closer to him, and he neither backs away nor closes the distance between them. “And what is it for?”
“It’s an escape,” he admits, after a moment.
She knows she can’t look too good right now. Her hair is a mess from the wind, the ends that frame her face sticky from her lip gloss, and, as one of her friends pointed out, there are dark circles under her eyes that no amount of concealer was covering. But under the dim streetlights that cut through the darkness, he doesn’t seem to care, as he pulls her to him, and kisses her. There’s no tentativeness to it, he just does it like he could care less about the consequences. It’s not smart, and it’s not the safe move, but neither is that damn motorcycle. She knows from watching him and Kate do their back and forth dance that the old Jack didn’t move this fast.
That doesn’t change the fact that they’re currently kissing in the parking lot, his hands on the small of her back, just under the silky material of her shirt, and she holds herself to him with one hand fisted into his t-shirt. They shouldn’t be doing this here. The thought that they probably shouldn’t be doing this at all doesn’t even cross her mind, because Shannon isn’t one who reads that far into kissing, or sex for that matter (and it’s surely going to lead there, and damn if she doesn’t need it to lead there).
She breaks the kiss, detaching herself from him. He looks confused, and also like he doesn’t quite want to let go, and she can see a bit of the old Jack there, always so worried about making the right moves, always worried about control and whether or not he has it. She’s something different, because she doesn’t allow him to be in control. She takes a few steps away from him, headed for the entrance to the complex, and when he doesn’t catch on, she turns back, eyebrow raised suggestively, “Are you coming?”
And for once Jack plays the follower.