Title: Routine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The honeymoon was very much over. Whether they acknowledged that, or not.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost. At all. I wish but alas...
Author's Note: Used for philosophy_20, prompt #15: infinity.



The truth was, Jack annoyed Sawyer. He always had. It’s true that, in the beginning, his anger and irritation had more or less been a case of protesting too much, of masking the way he had really felt about Jack with easier, less complicated emotions. But Jack did annoy him. Somehow, now more than ever.

Sawyer wished that he didn’t, that he loved everything about Jack just because he loved Jack. But he was nowhere near naïve enough to think that should be the case. Being on the inside of a relationship only seemed to afford him new ways to be annoyed, new irritations that he never put a voice to, because how do you come out and tell the guy you’ve been with for eight years that sometimes you wish he’d leave you the hell alone? You don’t.

The honeymoon was very much over. Whether they acknowledged that, or not. They were committed, and they were settled, and as much as Sawyer was satisfied with that, he was also bored. Bored and restless. He loved Jack, but there was nothing new to him, or to their relationship. They had discovered everything there was to discover about each other – good and bad – and now there were just existing in the same space.

Most of the time, Sawyer didn’t think about it enough for it to bother him. So, they weren’t all over each other like they used to be. They were both past forty now, world-weary, and just happy to have a stable life, a place where they were allowed to sit still. It was a relief, for a while. Sawyer questioned sometimes when it got boring, predictable, routine.

If he had to guess, he would say that it was about a year ago, when he’d noticed Jack putting around the living room, doing nothing what so ever, and became so distracted from what he was reading that he had snapped at Jack to just land somewhere already damn it. Jack had seemed startled by the outburst, but Sawyer had returned his gaze to the pages of his book so quickly that he never saw Jack’s reaction. It hadn’t even occurred to him to think about it until later that day when he and Jack had climbed into bed and shut off their respective table lamps in silence. When Jack had slept facing away from him and Sawyer had spent two hours staring at the ceiling without really knowing why.

That was the first occurrence of Sawyer being irritated by something that Jack had done that was so small, so inconsequential, that he wouldn’t have even noticed it years ago. But now, the more Sawyer looked, the more he became annoyed by the way that Jack insisted on organizing the food in the cupboard, or the way that he moved Sawyer’s things if he set them down on the coffee table. The way that Jack always dragged Sawyer to the grocery store with him, even after all this time, and took his sweet time, walked down every aisle just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything.

He should have wanted this, he thought, to spend every moment with Jack. He had spent so much of his life with no one, and now that the had someone, now that he had Jack, he’d thought that he would relish even the mundane because he wasn’t being mundane alone anymore. And he had. For a while. But now, well, now things seemed different somehow.

And he thought Jack noticed, because he seemed to carry around an air of frustration with him. He looked away whenever Sawyer caught him looking at him, studying him, obviously trying to find out what was going on inside his head. Sawyer wouldn’t have been surprised, at that point, if Jack could read his mind.

But Jack hadn’t brought it up either, not even after Sawyer had asked him, very pointedly, what he was staring at him for. Jack just jerked his head away, kept washing the dishes. He shook his head and muttered, “Nothing,” and even though Sawyer knew that was the time, the opportunity he needed to talk this thing out, he let it pass, and so did Jack.

After a certain point, it became a waiting game. Neither of them wanted to start the conversation, but eventually, one of them would have to.

*

Jack broke down first. Sawyer probably knew that he would, that he was counting on it so that he wouldn’t have to. He had been brushing his teeth at the time, glanced over to see Jack standing in the doorway, in his boxers and a gray tee shirt. At first, Sawyer had thought he was waiting for his turn at the sink, but the more he glanced over at Jack, the more he felt like he was being stared at.

Spitting out the toothpaste he sighed and wiped his mouth. “What?” he asked. Jack shrugged and shook his head. “Damn it, Jack, will you just say something?”

“Will you?” Jack asked, evenly, taking a step forward. Sawyer leaned with one hand on the sink and dropped his gaze. He ran his hand over the back of his neck, wiping away the gathering sweat in a nervous gesture he had adopted from Jack over the years. He was still working up the courage to say something, anything, when Jack sighed heavily and did it for him.

“What happened to us?” he asked. His voice was sad, detached. Sawyer looked up and wondered why his first instinct was to defend their relationship, to ignore the problem and insist that nothing had changed when he was the one that had spent so much time turning that very question over and over in his mind. It was useless to lie to Jack anyway. They knew each other far too well.

“We got old,” Sawyer replied, with a bitter chuckle. Jack didn’t look amused, and in reality, neither was Sawyer.

“We got used to each other,” Jack added. Sawyer nodded in agreement. Jack said it as if it were a bad thing, but maybe it was. Maybe it was why they were in this rut. Sawyer hoped to God it was a rut, because he couldn't imagine going on like this for years and years. He and Jack would tear each other apart. Which would be quite the shame, seeing as they had managed to make it this far.

“Are you bored of me?” Jack asked, and Sawyer felt blindsided by the question. To tell the truth, he felt like he’s been punched in the gut. Jack took a few more steps forward, careful not to mistake Sawyer’s silence for an acquiesce. He rested his hands absently on Sawyer’s hips, pulled on the hem of his tee shirt. Sawyer watched, felt the warmth of Jack’s body so close to his and he sighed, reacheed out and pulled Jack into his arms.

They stayed like that for a while, Jack’s arms around Sawyer’s back, Sawyer’s around Jack’s neck, and Jack knew that this was a yes, that Sawyer couldn't bring himself to look Jack in the eyes and answer his question. He knew that Sawyer was holding him now to let him know that he did love him, that he wanted him close, but that he couldn’t bring himself to answer Jack, or, Jack thought with some degree of satisfaction, to lie about it.

“I love you,” Sawyer told him, softly. It was an assurance, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Jack seemed to nod. They pulled apart and Sawyer kept his hands resting on Jack’s shoulders. Jack’s held onto Sawyer’s waist.

“We’ve been together for a long time, Sawyer,” Jack said. “And this is certainly my longest relationship, so I guess it’s natural that we might get used to each other.”

Sawyer smiled and shook his head. His eyes slid closed and his smile turned into more of a smirk. He felt Jack's hands tighten on his waist and he opened his eyes to find Jack's big and brown and confused. “Nothin’,” he assured. “It’s nothing, I just…I’m your longest relationship.”

Jack nodded, with a smile of his own. “Yeah, you are.”

“Guess it goes without sayin' that you're mine, too,” Sawyer replied. Jack smirked and pulled Sawyer closer, leaned their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” slipped out of his mouth like a content sigh and it was only then that Sawyer realized what he had said, and that he caught up to Jack, held him tighter, and shut his eyes.

His complaints seemed trivial now, when he was in Jack’s arms, when Jack was in his, when they were this close to each other. These moments were rare, especially since they had descended into a kind of ignorant silence. It felt like it was lifting now, like it was evaporating off of the both of them as they stood there holding one another.

The feeling would return, though, Sawyer knew that. Jack knew it too. But it didn't mean they had to ruin the moment, that they couldn't savor what they had now. Jack’s eyes slid open, and there was worry there, doubt that they would make it over this particular hurdle in their relationship. Sawyer was sure that his own eyes mirrored that emotion. But they did know each other, and well enough to know that they both possessed a certain amount of stubborn determination. Certainly enough determination to get over this. They had, after all, been through much worse.

“Can we go to bed now?” Jack asked, almost reluctantly, but definitely tired. Sawyer nodded and his head brushed against Jack’s. He didn’t want to break the spell either, but something told him, walking all of the seven feet to their bed wasn't going to do too much damage.

So they let go of each other, climbed into their bed, and found each other in the middle once more. Jack laid on his side facing Sawyer, and Sawyer laid on his side facing Jack. Their legs tangled together and Sawyer reached out to run his hands along Jack’s forearms, until he was gripping them both, pulling Jack closer.

“We’ll get over this, right?” Jack spoke into Sawyer’s chest. Sawyer shifted his arms tighter around Jack, rested his chin on top of Jack’s head as he let one hand slide up and down Jack’s spine.

Sawyer had never been the kind of man to make assurances, to promise things he didn’t know if he could give. He still wasn't. But he knew that he needed to hear himself say it as much as Jack did, so he took a deep breath and he closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we will.”

He didn’t know if he could keep that promise, but he did know that, for Jack, he would damn well try.