Title: Better Late Than Never
Rating: PG
Summary: Jack being late was nothing new, sadly. There was always some emergency that needed attending to, some doctor who just couldn’t get along without Jack’s professional opinion. Sawyer questioned how some of them got through medical school at all with the amount of times that they ran to Jack for every little thing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost. At all. I wish but alas...
Author's Note: The first of many. :) Let's start with the unrepentant fluff.



The food was getting cold. Again. Sawyer picked it up, sighing at it and wondering how many more times he could nuke it in the microwave before it was no longer salvageable.

Jack being late was nothing new, sadly. There was always some emergency that needed attending to, some doctor who just couldn’t get along without Jack’s professional opinion. Sawyer questioned how some of them got through medical school at all with the amount of times that they ran to Jack for every little thing.

That’s what he got for dating a brilliant doctor though, he thought bitterly as he waited for dinner to reheat. He not only had to do his own job, but everyone else’s too. The hospital got most of his time, and any other day of the year, Sawyer would have been happy to take whatever was left without complaint. But not today.

Today, Jack’s shift was supposed to end two hours ago. Today was supposed to be just for them. But that had all been thrown right out the window when Jack had called to say he would be late.

Sawyer had opened his mouth to object, then closed it very quickly. He shoved the hurt and disappointment back down his throat, along with the angry words his mouth wanted to spit out at Jack and answered him with a sigh and a, “Yeah, sure, doc.”

He allowed his disappointment to fester for the next hour, walking from room to room as he cursed Jack’s job and his patients, and finally himself for being such a selfish asshole. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t known this going in, as if he hadn’t known Jack. There were always going to be other people that needed him, and if he wanted to stay in Jack’s life – which he did – he was going to have to learn how to share.

But all he wanted was today, one day with Jack and then he would give him back to the hospital. It may have needed him, but Sawyer needed him too.

The food wasn’t going to keep, he decided. Maybe it was just as well. He wasn’t a very good cook anyway. At least not compared to Jack. Sighing, he tossed out the food and began searching through the stack of take-out menus they kept by the phone.

He was somewhere in the middle of the Italian menus when he heard the front door opening. His breath skipped, very much against his will, but he bit down hard on the urge to drop the task at hand and go to meet Jack.

It wasn’t that he blamed him. He barely even blamed the job. He just didn’t want his eagerness to betray his hurt. Jack would probably see them both – he could be annoyingly perceptive when he really tried – but he certainly wasn’t going to fold just because he knew he was going to be beaten. It was the principal of the thing.

“Sawyer?” Jack called through the living room. He sounded guilty and apprehensive. Almost like he didn’t expect an answer. Sawyer rolled his eyes. What did Jack think, that he stormed out of his own house or something?

“Kitchen,” Sawyer called right back.

He could hear Jack’s footsteps as he stepped from the carpet of the living room onto the tile of the kitchen. The sound died suddenly and Sawyer guessed that Jack had stopped in the doorway, waiting for him to turn around.

Jack was exhausted, that much was apparent. He looked like he could collapse at any moment, like he wanted to, but, instead, he leaned against the doorway and smiled weakly at Sawyer.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded exhausted too.

“Hey,” Sawyer replied. He smiled back at Jack before returning his attention to finding them dinner. “I can’t believe you organized these by restaurant type, then alphabetized them.”

“You can’t?” Jack asked with a small laugh, which seemed to be all he was capable of at the moment.

Sawyer turned back to him for a brief second and smirked. Truth be told, no, he wasn’t surprised. By now, he’s used to the immaculate condition in which Jack kept the house. In every place he had ever been before now, that kind of thing was just for show, for the benefit of whatever guest might find their way inside. But that wasn’t it in this time. It was just Jack.

“What do you feel like?” Sawyer asked. Jack sighed heavily and walked further into the kitchen. He didn’t answer Sawyer, instead pulling one of the wooden chairs out from under the table and sitting down.

“I was going to cook,” he eventually said, not even bothering to hide the sadness and regret in his voice. Sawyer sighed and gave up, throwing the menus in his hand back on the pile and casting a glance at the discarded meal in the trash can.

“I tried,” Sawyer replied, turning around to face Jack before running a hand through his hair and joining him at the table.

“What happened?” Jack asked, looking up.

Sawyer shrugged. “Got cold.”

Jack’s head fell and he blinked a few times, eyes focused intently on the table. Sawyer sighed and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, doc,” he assured. “It don’t matter.”

Jack nodded adamantly. “It matters,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Sawyer.”

“Hey,” Sawyer said, in such a way that demanded Jack raise his head and look at him. It worked. Jack’s eyes left the table’s surface and gazed at Sawyer with a mixture of guilt and curiosity. “I said it don’t matter, didn’t I?”

Jack shrugged. “You were lying,” he answered.

Annoyingly perceptive was right. Sawyer shook his head and sighed. Jack was right. It did matter. It mattered because Jack’d had near back-to-back surgeries for weeks. It mattered because Jack hadn’t made it home before one in the morning in just as long. It mattered because today was supposed to be theirs.

“You’re home now,” Sawyer changed directions, not bothering to confirm or deny Jack’s assertion. There wasn’t any point. “That matters.”

Jack replied by nodding, but Sawyer was sure that he didn’t believe him, that he would continue to guilt himself and apologize all night and well into the next day. He thought Sawyer blamed him, and no assurance on Sawyer’s part seemed to be able to pry him away from that belief.

“Now, come on,” Sawyer said. “What do you want to eat?”

*

They chose Chinese food. Containers of noodles and rice and chicken and beef were spread along the length of the coffee table. Jack had one full of lo mein in his hand, delicately maneuvering his chopsticks through the noodles. Sawyer had long since given up on trying to use his, swearing vehemently at them before stalking off to the kitchen to get a fork.

When Jack was poking at his food more than eating it, he set it aside, throwing the chopsticks into the container and leaning back against the cushions of the couch. He sighed contently and let his head roll to the side, watching Sawyer as he devoured the orange chicken like a man starving. Jack smiled.

The day had dragged on forever. With every passing hour, he had become even more exhausted. It was worth it though, he thought, as he watched Sawyer. He’d had to spend two extra hours at the hospital and miss Sawyer’s dinner but it was going to be worth it.

“Hey,” Jack said as he felt his heavy eyelids dropping closed. Fatigue was setting in and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer. Sawyer looked over at him, quickly swallowing a mouthful of food and raising his eyebrows at Jack questioningly.

“What?” he asked, setting the container aside and turning to face Jack.

“I got you something.”

Sawyer frowned. “We said we weren’t gonna do that.”

Jack shrugged and shook his head, a tired smile on his face. “Yeah, well…”

“Jack-”

“It’s too late to take it back,” Jack told him, still smiling a kind of lop-sided, mischievous smile. Sawyer couldn’t help but relax and smile back.

He relented and shrugged. “Yeah, alright, let’s have it,” he replied, gesturing for Jack to give it to him so he could get it over with. Jack just kept smiling at him, and Sawyer screwed up his face, confused.

“It wouldn’t fit into a box,” Jack said with a small laugh. Sawyer just looked even more confused.

“What is this, a guessing game?” he asked. Jack just laughed again and shook his head.

“I cleared my schedule for the next two weeks,” he tells Sawyer. “That’s why I was so late. I had to call in a few favors, but I did it.”

Sawyer opened his mouth and closed it a few times, knowing he should say something, wanting to, but not knowing what it should be. He was so genuinely surprised that all he can really do is stare at Jack.

“So, you’ve got the next two weeks off then?” Sawyer asked, for the sake of clarification, so will have a statement to refer to just in case the hospital called or something came up. Jack’s smile only grew wider as he nodded.

“Yeah. And I’m turning off my pager and unplugging the phone,” Jack added, sliding along the carpet, down the length of the couch, until he was sitting right next to Sawyer, facing him. “It’s just you and me.”

Sawyer met Jack’s eyes as a smile spread slowly across his face. Sometimes Jack could be annoyingly perceptive, and other times he was just the best kind of perceptive.

“Happy anniversary,” Jack whispered, leaning in slowly to kiss Sawyer. He responded almost immediately, reaching around Jack’s back, pulling him closer. The kiss lost coordination after a while, turning into more, smaller kisses, brief meetings of their lips, until they both pulled apart, their foreheads nuzzling against each other.

“Damn right,” Sawyer replied. Jack eyes were closed, and he couldn’t see Sawyer smiling, but he could damn sure feel it. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Jack shrugged, reaching a hand behind around the back of Sawyer’s neck and running his thumb lightly over his collarbone. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he replied, pulling Sawyer back toward him for another drowsy kiss.