So...remember when I said that I finally wrote slash? Well, that's true. This wasn't it though. I've since decided, that one isn't going to see the light of day. I needed more practice so I've been writing and writing over the past couple of weeks and this is the first thing that I feel comfortable showing everyone. Or at least as comfortable as I'm going to get. *begins chewing on finger nails* I have this other thing that I'm working on too. It's much longer, but it's also going to require a little more work. So, here it goes, my first slash fic to be posted on LJ, and hopefully not my last:

Title: Getaway
Rating: PG-13, for language only
Summery: Sawyer can't get Jack to come out of the closet. Literally.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost. At all. I wish but alas...
Author's Note: This is pure, unadulterated sap. It's fluffy, happy, sappy fluff. It's also not an original idea and has probably been done much better by many people before. And with porn.



“You have actually heard of a vacation, right?” Sawyer threw his duffel bag on the floor at the foot of the bed, then flopped down on top of the heavy down comforter. He sighed, checked his watch, and stared at the ceiling fan as it went around and around.

“Shut up,” Jack called from the depths of the walk-in closet. He’d been in there for almost an hour now. Sawyer knew because he’d managed to throw a few shirts and a pair of jeans into a bag, make himself a sandwich, eat it, and come back to the bedroom to find Jack still standing in front of a row of shirts, examining them closely, like X rays. For a short time it was amusing, but now it was just annoying the hell out of him.

With a small huff, Sawyer jumped off of the bed, leaning against the door frame of the closet with his arms crossed over his chest. “I can’t believe you ain’t done yet,” he said. Jack would classify it as complaining, but Sawyer firmly believed that after an hour of pacing the floor, bored out of his mind, waiting on Jack’s indecisive ass, he had earned the right.

“Just because every item of clothing you own can fit in a drawer…” he replied, turing to face Sawyer for only a second before, once more, analyzing the row of shirts in front of him. Sawyer had to snort in something adjacent to contempt. Jack’s closet was enormous. He had more suits then could possibly be necessary, a thousand shirts, and what seemed to Sawyer to be a thousand pairs of the same black pants. Half of this stuff, Jack didn’t even wear.

“Let’s make this simple,” Sawyer said, pushing Jack out of the way and ignoring him when he protested. He quickly grabbed two white dress shirts, a red one, a blue one, and a green tee shirt, then dropped them into Jack’s suitcase. He pulled two pairs of jeans from and open drawer, threw them in as well, then slammed the suitcase shut.

“There,” he said decidedly, picking it up and holding it out to Jack.

“You can’t just randomly pick clothes and drop them in, Sawyer,” he protested, but took the suitcase anyway.

“You’re way too practical for your own good, Doc,” Sawyer told him as he left the closet, overjoyed that Jack was following him. “And there wasn’t anything random about it. Those were my favorites.”

Jack smirked as he closed the doors of the closet and set his suitcase down next to Sawyer’s duffle bag.

“Aww.”

Sawyer scowled. “Shut up.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Oh, so it was me that wanted to fly off to the Bahamas for our anniversary? Oh, no wait, I seem to recall that was you.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Okay, so I’m a sap too.” He checked the tickets one last time, grabbed his wallet and keys and took a look around the room, trying to come up with anything he might have forgotten. Unable to think of anything, he put his wallet and keys in his pocket. “And you could have said no.”

“Two weeks of nothing to do but lay around in the sun, sleep all day, and fuck like rabbits? Why the hell would I say no to that?”

Jack looked down at his suitcase. “Do you think I have enough clothes for two weeks?”

“You think you’ll be needin’ them?” Sawyer smirked.

“This should be fine,” he said, trying not to grin and failing.

“Plane takes off in two hours,” Sawyer reminded Jack, his eyes cast down to his watch once more. He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We gotta leave soon if we’re gonna get through security.”

“Do we have to fly?” Sawyer would most definitely call that whining, but since he was no more eager to be back in the air than Jack, he decided to bite down on the many sarcastic replies that immediately sprang to his mind.

“Well I sure as hell ain’t getting’ back on a boat.”

Jack nodded slowly. He remembered well the weeks it had taken the rescue boat to get back to dry land. He had spent most of it with Sawyer, in their cabin, taking care of him while he was violently seasick. If he had a choice between falling out of the sky all over again or praying to the porcelain gods his whole anniversary, Sawyer would happily take another plane crash, thank you very much. At least the odds of that were slime to none.

“Yeah, alright,” Jack replied.

“Got the keys?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Tickets?”

He held them up for Sawyer to see.

“Then what’re we waiting for?”

Jack turned off lights as they went, the bedroom, the hallway, the kitchen, and made sure to set the alarm and lock the door behind them. Unexpectedly, Jack felt content instead of anxious, excited to get away instead of nervous about the responsibilities that he would miss. In fact, the closer they got to the car, the less he was thinking about that at all.

“Happy anniversary Sawyer,” he said, before they reached the car.

Sawyer smiled despite his best efforts not to. “Happy anniversary Jackass.”