Summary: Sawyer loved kissing Jack. Really loved it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost. I wish, but alas...
Author's Note: Dedicated to inthekeyofd. Just for being her.
Sawyer loved kissing Jack. Really loved it. Jack was great in bed, Sawyer would be the first to tell you that (in detail), but there was just something about the way that he kissed that made Sawyer’s insides do that embarrassing flipping thing, the kind of thing that thirteen year old girls wrote in their diaries about. Jack made him feel all kinds of embarrassing things like that, but nothing could really compare to when Jack kissed him.
In fact, he kept a list in his mind of the top five, the best kisses that he and Jack had ever shared (though it had, admittedly, been a very tough task considering there were so many, and they were all, in their own way, perfect). He had told Jack about it one morning. He had laughed, most likely embarrassed by the attention, and shook his head, his eyes never leaving the morning paper he had brought to bed with breakfast.
And what could Sawyer do, at that point, but yank the paper out of Jack’s hands quickly enough to leave paper cuts, nearly knock over two glasses full of orange juice, and kiss Jack again and again until he was kissing back.
Good, Sawyer thought, as always. But no top five.
Number Five: The On-Call Room at St. Sebastian Hospital
Jack was almost asleep. Almost. It had been a particularly exhausting shift and all he really wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and stay there for the next month. He could feel himself being pulled into sleep, slowly, as he let his body and mind slip away. He was almost completely gone when the door opened and the light from the hospital’s hallway flooded the room. Sleep was chased away.
A loud groan filled the room as Jack objected to suddenly being awakened when it was the last thing he wanted. He normally would never have done that, nor would he have immediately sat up and thrown his pillow in the direction of the person who had just entered the room.
But he knew who it was, recognized the jeans and the leather jacket that he had seen before the door had been closed and the room had returned to it’s state of near complete darkness. He also recognized the low chuckle that came after Jack’s feeble attempt at an assault had failed and the pillow had landed harmlessly on the floor.
“You woke me up,” Jack complained weakly, trying to make himself comfortable on a lumpy bunk bed with no pillow.
“This door have a lock?” Sawyer asked, ignoring him.
“No,” Jack replied. “But nobody’ll come in. I asked for some privacy.” He said the last part very testily, knowing that, now that Sawyer was here, he wasn’t just going to leave and let Jack sleep. But it was somehow important to Jack that he keep vocalizing his annoyance.
“Worked out well for me then,” Sawyer said, ignoring Jack again. He could practically feel Sawyer smirking from across the room. He listened to Sawyer walk across the small room, and around the bed until he was sliding in behind Jack.
“Sawyer,” Jack whined as Sawyer’s hand made its way around his waist and up under his shirt, running up and down, over and over.
“Is that any way to talk to the man who has your pillow?” Sawyer replied softly, right into Jack’s ear. Jack shrugged Sawyer off a bit, trying to move away, but Sawyer just growled at him and pulled him back.
“I’m too tired, Sawyer. I’ve been working for fourteen hours straight, and I’m exhausted,” Jack said, though, at that point, he had almost completely given up trying to fight Sawyer off. There wasn’t any point. Sawyer was too persistent, especially when he wanted something from Jack. And if the way that he was running his finger lightly along the waistline of his scrubs was any indication, he did, indeed, want something.
“Been just as long since you kissed me, too, doc,” Sawyer replied, the smirk back in his voice. He nuzzled his nose against the back of Jack’s neck. “And if you thought that little goodbye peck when I was half asleep was gonna tide me over, you got another thing comin’.”
Jack groaned, loudly, but shifted back against Sawyer’s body. Sawyer took that as a acquiesce and smiled, pulling Jack’s body against his as snugly as he could and kissing the back of his neck like he wanted to kiss his mouth: sloppily and impatiently.
“C’mon, doc,” he whispered, carrying on kissing and biting and licking at Jack’s neck, back, and shoulders, whatever was near that he could get his mouth on. “Just one kiss.”
At that moment, Jack gave up. He was to awake now, on fire thanks to Sawyer’s touch and his voice and his mouth. The desire to sleep had been replaced by the desire for Sawyer – as frequently happened – and he turned toward it, toward Sawyer, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and pulling up the back of his shirt so he could fit his hands in the small of his back. Sawyer groaned against Jack’s neck, where his face was now fitted, and lifted up his head to slide the pillow underneath. Jack cared very little about his own comfort now, but it was nice all the same.
“Since when is it ever just one kiss with you?” Jack asked. He was close enough now that he could see Sawyer’s face in the dark. As predicted, the smirk was there. Not the smart-ass one, though. Not the pissed off one that came out when they fought. But the loving one, the affectionate one, the one that Sawyer insisted didn’t exist no matter how many instances Jack brought up.
“What can I say?” Sawyer replied, replacing the affectionate smirk with the cocky, know-it-all one (really, he had a million of them). “You’re a damn good kisser.”
If Jack’d had the energy, he would have laughed or rolled his eyes, but he really didn’t. His instinct was to brush the compliment off, but all he could do was blush a little and lean forward, fitting their bodies as close to each other as they could possibly be, and kissing Sawyer slowly.
Sawyer was right. Their last kiss had been nowhere near enough to tide him – or, he guessed, either of them – over until Jack finally managed to get himself home.
It was amazing, Jack thought, that Sawyer could still do that, after all this time, that he was still able to give Jack things that he never really knew he needed until he had them.
Number Four: The Path Just Behind Sawyer’s Tent
Sawyer had been on his way somewhere, that much he was sure of. He was sure, to this day, that wherever he had been going wasn’t very important, but even if it had been, he wasn’t sure that it would have mattered one bit. ‘Cause the doc was talking to her. And whatever had been on his mind the minute before, whatever task had seemed so important, was rendered completely meaningless.
Juliet didn’t know about them. No one did, and even though Sawyer had always aimed to keep it that way, the urge to make a scene was strong inside of him, way to strong too be ignored. For anyone else, maybe he could have. But not her.
He strolled up to them as casually as possible. He was sure they thought he would walk past because they continued their conversation unabated. It was nothing of dire importance, from what Sawyer could tell. Jack was in the middle of a sentence when Sawyer grabbed his arm and swallowed the rest of his sentence with an insistent and possessive kiss.
Jack put up a brave fight at first, but eventually, he was kissing Sawyer back. Satisfied, Sawyer broke the kiss, eyes closed and smirking. He leaned forward, pressing one more gentle kiss to Jack’s lips before pushing him softly away.
He looked shocked, maybe a little embarrassed. Juliet looked dumbfounded, maybe a little pissed off. Mission accomplished.
“See you later, baby,” Sawyer said as he walked back toward the beach. He could feel Jack blushing all the way.
Number Three: Hurley’s Back Porch
They still didn’t know, any of them. They had always been careful, keeping their secret pretty damn well while they were on the island. There were a few close calls, mostly involving Jack’s loud mouth and Sawyer’s stubborn refusal to get up and sneak out of Jack’s tent any time before ten. But, in the end, they had never been figured out. And once they had returned to the real world and all gone their separate ways, it had become even easier.
That is, until Hurley’s “reunion”. It was almost a year to the day they had stepped off the rescue boat that Jack had received the invitation in the mail. Hurley was hosting a party at his LA mansion (he had a place in New York and London too) and wanted everyone who could make it to come.
“I can go alone if you want,” Jack assured, though he sounded reluctant. Sawyer just sighed and closed his eyes. He pulled the blanket tighter around his body. It was a morning ritual with them, that Jack would get up at an ungodly hour to get ready for work and Sawyer would watch him until he was ready to leave and then, as soon as he was gone, fall easily back to sleep. But today, he really couldn’t find the energy, so he kept his eyes closed and tried to fall back to sleep. Jack was making it hard, though.
“Somehow, I don’t think me showin’ up as your date is the best idea,” Sawyer replied. When Jack didn’t answer, didn’t assure him that, no, it probably wasn’t, he opened his eyes and watched Jack nod at him stiffly. He set the invitation down on his nightstand and turned around, heading toward the closet to finish getting dressed.
“Hey,” Sawyer called after him, distressed by his silence.
“What?” Jack turned back around. He didn’t sound angry, but he definitely wasn’t happy. He set his hands on his hips and Sawyer had to wonder how in the hell the man could look huffy and serious when he was doing that while wearing his boxers and nothing else.
“Did you want me to go?” Sawyer asked. Jack shrugged and looked around the room, everywhere but at him. As far as Sawyer was concerned, he had his answer, but he still waited for Jack to say something.
“Would it matter?” he replied, shrugging yet again.
Sawyer looked at him like he was nuts. “Of course it fuckin’ matters, Jack,” he answered, bordering on upset. Since when was Jack of the opinion that Sawyer held his opinion in such low regard? What the hell had Sawyer done to make him think that?
“I don’t know,” Jack said, shaking his head. He ran his hand over the back of his neck and let out a sigh. “They’re our friends. I guess I thought you’d care about seeing them.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes at Jack. Oh no. There was no way Jack was gonna pull that on him. “Bullshit,” he replied, adamantly. “You want me to go so you can tell them about us.”
“Is that really so terrible?” Jack asked. Sawyer shook his head at Jack and looked away, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. There was no way in hell he was getting back to sleep, not now. He heard Jack sigh again, obviously put off by Sawyer’s sudden refusal to look at him while he talked. “I don’t want to sneak around anymore, Sawyer.”
“We barely ever see ‘em,” Sawyer answered, rolling his eyes. “Who’s sneakin’?”
“I don’t get you,” Jack said after a long silence, shaking his head and looking at Sawyer like he was mystified by him. Sawyer remembered that look well, though he hadn’t seen it in a while. “Everyone at the hospital knows. Juliet knows.”
“Knew,” Sawyer corrected, unable to help it. Jack’s eyes got dark. Her death was still a sore spot with Jack, one Sawyer couldn’t help but poke at when the spirit moved him.
Jack ignored him though, going on, “You don’t care if strangers know about us, but you don’t want to tell our friends? People that actually know us? I don’t get it.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes at Jack and sighed. “Obviously you don’t,” he said, nearly under his breath. But Jack heard him and his shoulders sagged. He was so tired of being confused by Sawyer, of having to read through the lines to try to find out what Sawyer was really talking about.
“Well, enlighten me, then,” Jack demanded.
Sawyer shook his head at him. He wasn’t looking at him, again, but if that made it easier for him to get out whatever he needed to get out, Jack really didn’t care. “It’s because they know us that I don’t want ‘em to know.”
“What?” Jack replied, shaking his head.
Sawyer’s body visibly sagged, and he let out a long, tired sigh. “They know, Jack,” he said, turning to face Jack once more. His eyes looked almost empty, sad. “They know I ain’t good enough for you.”
Jack’s mouth fell open, dumbfounded. He stared at Sawyer from across their bedroom, watched as he shifted around nervously. It was clear that Sawyer felt exposed, vulnerable, and as much as he wanted to reassure him, Jack was having trouble wrapping his mind around what had just come out of Sawyer’s mouth.
“What are you talking about?” Jack eventually said. Sawyer just shook his head and him and ran his hand through his hair. He looked away and his eyes slipped closed.
“They know all the shit I’ve done, doc. They know what kinda person I am.” He could practically feel Jack staring at him and he really wished he wouldn’t. He knew he’d dropped a bomb on Jack, but Jack’s attention really wasn’t making it any easier to get the words out of his mouth. “They idealize you, Jack. They look up to you, and me…if I go, if they see me with you, they’ll know I don’t deserve you.”
Jack took Sawyer’s words like a punch to the gut. He sat down stiffly on the edge of the bed and all of the breath seemed to be going straight out of his body. Sawyer watched helplessly as Jack continued to digest his words, silently, almost disbelievingly.
“Do you really believe that?” Jack asked, after a long while. He sounded like he was million miles away. He looked it too.
Sawyer shook his head, frustrated, and ran his hand over the back of his neck. Jack always did that, as a nervous gesture, and Sawyer had come to understand why. “Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Sawyer replied, softly.
“How long have you felt this way?” Jack questioned further, in a dumbfounded fashion, like a kid being told Santa isn’t real.
“Pretty much always, doc,” Sawyer admitted.
His head shook rapidly from side to side and his eyes closed, almost painfully. “Jesus,” he sighed.
“Look, Jack, this ain’t about you,” Sawyer assured, trying to get that look of Jack’s face. “It’s my shit. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal that you don’t think you’re good enough for me?” Jack challenged, sounding upset. Sawyer’s mouth fell closed and he looked away. “If that’s not a big fucking deal, what is?”
“You’re full of shit, you know that?” Sawyer laughed, but his mouth quickly closed when Jack turned his stern stare on him. “You’re a better person than you think you are.”
“If you say so,” Sawyer replied. Jack’s tone of voice demanded that he listen, that he take him seriously, but Sawyer just couldn’t. He couldn’t believe Jack’s words, no matter how much he wanted to. When you’ve spent thirty years tell yourself you’re worth nothing, it’s hard to break yourself of the habit.
Jack shook his head at Sawyer. “I do say so,” he said. “Look, I get that I can’t change the way you feel, about you, about us, but all I can do is hope that, some day, you’ll see how completely full of shit you are.”
Sawyer snorted a laugh at Jack, but smiled through it, and Jack smiled back.
“Don’t worry,” Jack said, getting back up and starting to dress for work once more. “I’ll go by myself.” Sawyer nodded after him, watching Jack retreat into the closet. When he was out of view, Sawyer’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head, sighing.
A week later, Sawyer was watching Jack get ready again. He was nervous and hyperactive and Sawyer couldn’t help but find it endearing despite himself.
“Sawyer, have you seen my watch?” Jack called through to the living room, where Sawyer sat with a book. Jack was flying from room to room, searching underneath this and that on his quest to find his watch.
“Which one?” Sawyer called back.
“The silver one.”
Sawyer put a bookmark in the page and leaned over to the coffee table, lifting up a few things until he found Jack’s missing watch between a couple of his books. He picked it up and smiled. He had bought Jack this watch. One year anniversary.
Hauling himself to his feet, he walked through the hall and into the den, where Jack was shuffling paperwork around on his desk, continuing his search. Burgundy shirt. Black pants. Black jacket. Damn.
“Hey,” he said from the doorway. Jack turned around and Sawyer held up the watch for him to see. Jack smiled, broadly, and he crossed the room. Sawyer opened the watch’s clasp and helped him put it on.
“So, doc,” Sawyer said. Jack looked up, questioningly. “You still need a date for this thing?”
Jack smiled, hopeful but apprehensive. “Are you sure?” Sawyer only shrugged back, not replying and Jack took that as the only ‘yes’ that he was going to get, so he let his smile grow a little bit wider.
“I hope you don’t expect me to get dressed up, though, ‘cause this is all you get,” Sawyer told him, gesturing to his jeans and green button down shirt.
Jack let his eyes wander up and down Sawyer’s body three or four times before he nodded, approvingly, and said, “You look good.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t have to kiss my ass, Jack,” he said. “I’m goin’.”
“You don’t have to,” Jack replied, stepping forward and putting his arms around Sawyer’s waist. He sighed, running his hands up Jack’s arms and back around his neck.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. And he did. “But, it’s time.” And it was.
The car ride was, nonetheless, quiet and awkward. Sawyer was nervous and pissed at himself for being so. He’d deluded himself into thinking he didn’t care what these people thought of him, but he knew his current behavior with regard to them find out about his relationship with Jack made him a liar.
He knew what they’d think when they found out. They’d wonder what in the hell Jack was thinking. And maybe they were right. Maybe, some days, when Sawyer was such an asshole to Jack because he didn’t know how else to be, he wondered why Jack tried at all. Maybe, some days, when everything Jack did seemed to annoy the living hell out of him, he second guessed whether or not he should have stuck around. Maybe, some days, they seemed so mismatched, way too different to make anything last, that Sawyer wondered how in the hell that had made it this far.
But it hadn’t mattered to him then, and when he really thought about it, it didn’t now. He had long since accepted those parts of being with Jack. But if everyone knew, if they said those things to Jack, they might wake him up. Sawyer could take dealing with those things on his own, but there was no way in hell he was gonna let them take Jack away from him.
Sawyer sighed and stared out the window. Jack glanced over at him every now and then. Sawyer could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was thinking that this was a bad idea. He was thinking that he should just turn around and go home. He was thinking that he had forced Sawyer into this.
“Knock it off,” Sawyer grumbled. Jack turned to face him, confused, then quickly turned back to the road.
“What?” he asked.
“You didn’t twist my arm to get me in this car, alright?” Sawyer told him. Jack kept silent, but the skeptical expression that passed over his face was all it took to confirm to Sawyer that he’d hit the nail on the head. “I’m here ‘cause I want to be.”
His eyes returned to the window. When the stopped at the next red light, he could feel Jack’s gaze on the side of his face. The car began to move again, and the sensation the attention caused was gone. After a long silence, he head a sigh.
“Well, you sure look like it,” Jack said. Sawyer glared at him, but dropped his head when he realized that he was just proving Jack’s point.
“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “But I’m here, right? That’s gotta mean something.”
“Who said it didn’t?” Jack replied, as the car pulled to a stop. Sawyer looked over his shoulder, out the window, and sure enough, they were there, one of many cars parked across the street from Hurley’s sizeable mansion.
“We don’t have to do this,” Jack repeated, but Sawyer was sick of hearing it. He reached for the door handle halfway through Jack’s sentence and was already outside by the time he had finished it.
Jack sat in the car for a few seconds before sighing, unbuckling his seat belt, and following Sawyer outside.
“Hey,” Jack called after Sawyer, who was half way across the street. Sawyer turned around to face and shrugged. Jack rounded the car without saying anything and leaned back against the hood.
“What?” Sawyer questioned, walking slowly back to Jack. “You wanna walk up to the door holdin’ hands or somethin’?” Sawyer regretted the words the second they left his mouth. He regretted them even more when Jack’s face fell and he looked away, hurt. Sawyer knew good and damn well Jack wanted no such thing, he just couldn’t seem to make himself think before things came out of his mouth.
He kicked a piece of loose concrete and sighed. “Sorry.”
Jack shook his head. “Will you just come here?” he said. Sawyer nodded, closing the distance between them and coming to a stop just in front of Jack.
“You deserve me,” Jack told him. Sawyer looked away, shaking his head, so Jack grabbed his hand, pulled on it until Sawyer’s gaze returned to his. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. Especially you.”
Sawyer snorted and shook his head again. Part of him wanted to believe Jack, but that part was vastly outnumbered by the rest of him, by the parts that still clung to the low self-worth he’d possessed for as long as he could remember. Sawyer’s feelings were like his letter, a painful reminder of how he had become the person that he was, useless for any other purpose and something that he stubbornly clung to just because it was his.
“We goin’ in, or not?” Sawyer asked, gesturing behind him, to Hurley’s house. Jack looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. The hand that was grasping Sawyer’s suddenly pulled him forward.
Settling himself between Jack’s legs, Sawyer placed his palms on the hood of the car, on either side of Jack’s hips. He looked into Jack’s eyes and Jack looked back. Normally, Sawyer hated this. He had learned to live with the loving, affectionate way that Jack looked at him, but he had never been able to look back at him while he was doing it. It was like staring into the sun. He just couldn’t. It hurt too much.
But he was doing it now. He was facing Jack’s love head-on, and it was terrifying. It was terrifying because it made him hope, because it made him want to believe that he deserved the way Jack was looking at him right now.
“Jack,” Sawyer intended to tell him they should just get this over with, that someone was going to find them like this. But he never got the chance.
Jack’s right hand was in his hair before he knew it, pulling his head down to connect their lips. The kiss spoke of reassurance and love, and yet it was the only kiss that they had ever shared that Sawyer would describe as painful. Jack’s kiss was like his gaze. The ease with which Jack put his emotions out for Sawyer to see, the way they were easy to feel in his eyes and in his kiss, burned through him. But he never pulled away. He couldn’t. There were worse ways to die, he figured.
When Jack pulled away, Sawyer’s eyes slid closed. He heard Jack take a deep breath and he did the same.
“Are you ready?” Jack asked. Sawyer opened his eyes and they landed right on Jack’s, deep and brown and thoughtful. No, probably not, Sawyer thought. If not pushed, Sawyer would probably never really be ready. He wanted it out in the open now, and no matter what any of them thought of him, there was no way in hell he was giving up Jack without a fight.
“Let’s go,” was Sawyer’s answer. Jack nodded and the contact between their bodies was broken as he pushed back from the car’s hood and stood in the middle of the street for a moment, staring at Hurley’s enormous home. Jack took a deep breath, and it caught in his throat when he felt Sawyer’s hand sliding into his. He looked down at their joined hands, then up at Sawyer.
Sawyer shrugged at Jack and smiled slightly, running his thumb over Jack’s hand.
Finally, they made the journey up Hurley’s driveway, coming to stop in front of a very large door. There were all pretty rich, but none of them more than Hurley – the only one who had been rolling in it before the island. Sawyer had to wonder why he lived in a place like this. It didn’t seem very Hurley. But, then again, he supposed he and Jack had gone a bit overboard on their house too, after the Oceanic checks had cleared.
Jack looked at Sawyer, one last time, and the question (“Are you sure about this?”) was almost out of his lips when the door opened. Sawyer’s hand jerked away on instinct, and he would have felt bad, concerned about hurting Jack, if he hadn’t felt Jack’s hand jerk away at nearly the exact same time.
Sun stood on the other side of the door, smiling at the both of them. “Hello,” she said, pleasantly, warmly.
“Damn,” Sawyer replied, looking her up and down. She giggled at him and shook her head.
“Should I take that as a compliment?” she inquired, smiling, – and, Jack thought, blushing a little bit. He smiled and ducked his head. He could understand that. Sawyer tended to have that effect sometimes.
“Hell yes you should,” Sawyer replied. “You’re the hottest pregnant chick I’ve ever seen.”
Sun ducked her head, in very much the same way that Jack had, still smiling. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside and letting them inside the door. Jack was nearly instantly sidelined by about three people who wanted to clap him on the back and shake his hand and tell him about how great he was.
Instead of scowling, like he might have done at one point, Sawyer smiled after him. Sun caught him in the middle and he quickly wiped it from his face.
“So, Hurley’s got you workin’ the door, huh?” he asked as they stood in the house’s foyer. Sun smiled at him in a way that wasn’t used too. She looked like she was hiding something, and not doing a very good job of it either.
“I was nearby,” she replied, smirking mischievously. Sawyer had to admit, this look on Sun was severely unsettling. “I was beginning to think you were going to stay outside all night, kissing. Not that I would have blamed you.”
Once Sawyer had regained his ability to think he immediately began looking to the people gathered around them, making sure that no one had heard her. If they had, Sawyer knew, they would be staring at him now, and since the only one who was even looking at him at all was Sun, he could only assume that no one had heard.
He met her amused gaze with a reserved, uncomfortable one, and sighed. “So,” he said. “You know then.”
She just laughed and shook her head, putting a hand on his shoulder and saying, “Sawyer, we always have.”
The words were still sinking in when she was leading him through the living room, through a crowd of people who greeted him like an old friend when they saw him, while he stared dumbly ahead, nodding every now and then. He had to wonder if Sun was right, if all of them really knew. And if they did, how was it possible that they didn’t seem to care at all?
He looked at Sun, who handed him a drink. “They really know?” he asked. She smiled and nodded.
“You really thought we didn’t?” she replied.
“We hid it pretty damn well,” Sawyer replied, defensively, going quickly to work on that drink.
“If you say so,” Sun replied with a small giggle. “You were in love, Sawyer. You can’t hide that. Trying only makes it all the more obvious.”
Sawyer opened his mouth, fully prepared to fire off a sarcastic comment, but the no-nonsense look in Sun’s eyes stops him cold. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. He knew Sun well enough to know it wouldn’t dissuade her the way he wanted it to. She was too smart for that.
He leaned back against a table and sighed. Glancing around the room, he found himself catching a pair of eyes, and even more disarmingly a friendly smile, every now and then. He returned them weakly, apprehensively, still clinging stubbornly to the suspicion that he was being up on.
His eyes continued to wander until he found Jack, surrounded by a throng of people across the room. He was smiling and laughing and maybe even blushing a little. Sawyer sighed again and swallowed the last of his drink.
“I am so full of shit,” he grumbled, under his breath. He heard an amused sort of snort come out of Sun and he turned to glare at her. It didn’t last. Her kind, gracious (and yet somehow still mischievous) smile was disarming like that.
“I don’t get it, sunshine,” he told her when she handed him another drink. Her eyebrows raised in question as she took a drink from her own glass (of water). “You of all people…”
She frowned up at him. “Me of all people, what?”
Sawyer sighed, exasperated. “You’re telling’ me, after all I’ve done to you, to all of you, you’ve got no problem with me bein’ with Jack?”
She looked at him then almost the same way that Jack had in their bedroom, like she couldn’t believe those words had just come out of his mouth – and, more to the point, like she couldn’t believe that he actually believed them.
“In the first place,” she said, after a few moments. “Who is or is not with Jack is nobody’s business but Jack’s. And in the second, you are an even bigger fool than you think you are if you cannot see the changes in yourself. Your actions, however hurtful, are in the past.”
Sawyer shook his head at her. “It ain’t that simple, sunshine,” he replied. If he knew one thing good and damn well, it was that your past was always two steps behind you. It may have been out of sight, but it was never out of mind.
Sun just shook her head back at him, like he imagined she did with her son when he tried to run some asinine line of reasoning on her. Sawyer’s eyes narrowed a bit at that.
“It is for us,” she told him.
Looking around the room once more, at all of these people he had lived with for so long (longer than almost anyone before them), these people who had seen just about the worst of him, it appeared that the only one still hung up on those things was him.
“I don’t get it,” he repeated, barely above a whisper, and shook his head.
Sun laid a hand on his shoulder, running it up and down his arm, comfortingly. “I know,” she replied. “But you will.”
He couldn’t reply. There wasn’t really anything to say. He guessed that Sun had sensed that would happen because she had given him one last smile and a pat on the shoulder before beginning to mingle amongst the crowd. He watched as she found Jin, as he smiled and kissed her and put his arms around her. The stubborn part of him refused to believe that, if Jack did the same thing to him, it would be met with a similar reaction. He found Jack’s eyes over the crowd and thought, for a fleeting second, about putting his theory to the test. But if Sun was right – as she tended to be – he knew he would be proved a liar.
So, he didn’t. He smiled weakly at Jack instead, and nodded his head toward the back porch’s doors. He needed to get some air. Jack nodded back, most likely thinking that he needed a cigarette.
“Dude!” At any other time, Hurley’s jovial tone of voice would have been welcomed, but at that moment, everything was getting on Sawyer’s nerves. Other people’s happiness was near the top of the list.
Nevertheless, Sawyer turned around and gave Sawyer a weak smile. He found himself quickly enveloped by the man and (yet again) spitting out hair.
“You’re here,” Hurley said, pulling away and clapping him, hard, on the shoulder. Sawyer nodded back, looking around at Hurley’s massive home.
“Yep. I’m here,” he replied.
“Where's Jack?” he asked, his eyes searching over Sawyer’s shoulder, trying to locate Jack amongst the crowd. Sawyer shook his head; this was all getting to be too much.
He gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “Holdin’ court,” he replied. “You should say hey. He’ll wanna see you.”
He nodded happily and Sawyer felt guilty for trying to get rid of him (and succeeding so easily). It wasn’t Hurley, really. It was everyone. The realization that he had been so dead wrong for so long wasn’t one that was sitting easily with him. He felt boxed in and he needed to get outside, to be alone, to think.
The cool, crisp breeze that greeted him upon his exit was a breath of fresh air. He breathed deeply, finally able to do so. He leaned against the house’s wall and closed his eyes. His head was clearing, but he couldn’t organize his thoughts. There were too many of them.
Sawyer turned around as Jack closed the door behind him. He shoved his hands in his back pockets and pushed off of the wall, pacing the same four feet of cement back and forth and nodding at Jack.
“So…” Jack said. Sawyer nodded.
“They know,” Sawyer told him. “They’ve always known.”
Jack just nodded back and gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I got that when the first thing out of half of their mouths was ‘Where’s Sawyer’.”
Not knowing what to say, Sawyer kept his mouth shut. He looked down at the ground and sighed heavily. He heard Jack approaching him, felt his arms reach out and wrap around his shoulders. Sawyer’s eyes closed and his own arms reached out on instinct, inside Jack’s jacket and around his middle. He relaxed then, listening to Jack breathe against the side of his neck.
Jack’s hand ran up and down Sawyer’s back in a comforting manner and he leaned his cheek against the side of Sawyer’s head, whispering in his head, “Told you so.”
Sawyer shoved him back, then, embarrassed. Jack just giggled at him, so he turned away, pouting.
“Oh, come on,” Jack said, still mildly amuse. “You have to be relieved.”
Shrugging, he turned back around and ran a hand through his hair. Jack was right. He should be relieved. But he wasn’t. He should have been glad that no one in that room seemed to be wising Jack up to the fact that he was probably making a big mistake, but he couldn’t shake loose the belief that he was.
“I don’t get it, Sawyer,” Jack said, his amused tone of voice turning suddenly, inescapably serious. “A half an hour ago you were upset because you thought everyone would judge you, and now you’re upset because they’re not? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to my brain, doc,” Sawyer snapped before he even thought about it. Jack just sighed at him and looked away.
“Will you please talk to me?” Jack asked, sounding a little lost. Sawyer sighed and turned to face him. Jack looked back at him then, patiently. Sawyer sighed again and shook his head. He closed the distance between them, slowly, and put his hands on Jack’s hips. Jack just let him, looked up at him and ran his hands up and down Sawyer’s forearms in an attempt to soothe him.
“It’s just a hard pill to swallow,” he said. “Knowin’ that I’ve been full of shit this whole time.”
“Is that really such a bad thing, Sawyer?” Jack questioned. Sawyer shrugged back and raised his gaze above Jack’s head. “Or did you just want them to hate you?”
“I haven’t given them much of a reason not to,” he replied. He heard Jack sigh and he looked back to him, into his eyes.
“You really are full of shit, you know?” Jack replied, sounding more amused than frustrated now.
“You’re just catchin’ on to that, doc?” Sawyer answered.
“They’re good people, Sawyer,” Jack told him. “They forgave you. I forgave you. It’s done now.”
Sawyer shook his head. “Ain’t that easy, Jack.”
“Yes it is,” Jack said, adamantly. “You’re making it hard.”
Sawyer would have argued further if he weren’t exhausted – or if he had a leg to stand on – but he couldn’t. It seemed too easy, too easy not to distrust. But the evidence that Jack and Sun were right, that everyone knew about them and no one cared, that they had forgiven and forgotten and that was the one living in the past was too overwhelming to ignore. The fact that he couldn’t seem to get this mind around it didn’t make it a lie. But maybe Sun right about one more thing. Maybe he would understand it, someday.
“Shouldn’t we be gettin’ back soon?” Sawyer suggested, finally feeling ready. It would take him a while to get his head around this, but he felt like he had just taken a good first step.
Jack nodded, but said, “In a minute.”
Sawyer frowned, confused, until on of Jack’s hands found its way behind Sawyer’s neck and he felt himself being pulled into a long, loving, comforting kiss. Jack maneuvered his tired body easily, backing him up until he connected with the wall of the house.
“I think we can afford five more minutes before they start missing us,” Jack said, breathlessly. Sawyer nodded adamantly, pulling on Jack’s burgundy shirt until their bodies were pressed together once more.
The kiss on the porch was like the kiss on the street. It was about Jack trying to convince him that he was wrong, that he deserved what he had, and that he wasn’t going to loose it. This one was better, though, because this time, Sawyer was listening.
Number Two: Location Unknown
There’s a cliché, about the first kissing being one of the best because it was the beginning of all of the other kisses, all of the amazing things that followed it. Sawyer guessed that might be true, but the fact of the matter was, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember their first kiss and neither could Jack.
The had been drinking, that was for sure. All either of them could remember was that they had been drinking, a lot, and the next thing they knew they were waking up wrapped around each other in Sawyer’s tent. Jack had a rather enormous hickey right where his neck met his shoulder and Sawyer’s shirt was missing.
They had jumped apart, as if struck by lightening, but couldn’t keep bring stop staring; Jack, at the smooth, tanned skin exposed to him and Sawyer at the massive, angry looking mark he had left on Jack’s neck. It didn’t take long after that before they were one each other again.
Sawyer rolled on top of Jack, grabbing him by whatever flesh be could get his hands on, and Jack grabbed back. Their next kiss was one of the most frantic, messy ones of Sawyer’s life, but he memorized everything about it the way he couldn’t with the first.
He supposed, later, that the cliché was true; the first kiss was one of the best because it gave way to ever amazing, mind-blowing, list-worthy kiss that came after it.
Number One: The Handicapped Bathroom Stall of the Men’s Bathroom at LAX
Sawyer had run. He was a fucking coward and he had run. Jack had turned away to hug someone and Sawyer had turned away from him. He knew what this meant. He was saying goodbye, and Sawyer’s turn would come soon enough. He had bitten back on his hurt and his anger and his pain for as long as he could, until he couldn’t do anything but get away as quickly as possible and wait for it to be over.
He wasn’t normally like this. In the old days he would have made a scene, made sure people were watching when it happened, and made Jack seem like the bad guy. But those were the old days, the days before Jack. Now there weren’t going to be any more days with Jack, and he couldn’t take it.
So he did run. He ran into the men’s room, deserted now because it was the middle of the night, and sat in the handicapped stall, ordering himself to breathe.
He should have prepared himself for this, for the day that Jack would no longer be in his bed and in his life. But he had never honestly believed that they would leave the island, so he had figured it would have been a wasted effort. They couldn’t escape each other on the island, but out here, back in the great big world, it wouldn’t even be hard.
Jack’s voice filled the room, echoed off of the empty walls and Sawyer tried to stifle his hurt, the feeling of abandonment, before Jack found him.
“I’m here,” he heard himself answering. He wasn’t sure why he did it, beyond the fact that he was suddenly overcome by the desire to do just the opposite of what he had done by running into the bathroom. He wanted to see Jack, to kiss him one last time. If he was going to leave, if he had to watch him do it, he didn't care as long as he could do that.
The door opened and Jack looked at him like he was out of his mind. “What’re you doing in the bathroom?” he asked. Jack’s innocent confusion stopped Sawyers’ train of thought cold. He asked it like a parent might ask their child where they had run off to.
“You ain’t leavin’,” Sawyer replied, bemused, maybe even a little shocked. Jack screwed up his face at Sawyer, seeming even more confused than before.
“No,” Jack replied, slowly. “Why did you think I was?”
Sawyer shrugged, but it didn’t get him very far because Jack just kept looking at him, confused, waiting for an answer. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. “That’s what people do,” he replied. A look passed over Jack’s face that was dangerously close to pity, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, so Sawyer let it go.
Jack approached him slowly, reaching out to toy with the corner of the collar of his leather jacket. Sawyer watched Jack’s fingers move for a few moments before looking up into his eyes.
“Stand up,” Jack requested, gently. He wasn’t about to fight Jack this time. He was far too fragile, needed Jack’s reassurance way too much. So he stood and he allowed himself to be pulled into Jack’s arms, to burry his face in Jack’s neck and breathe in his scent. He smelled like sweat, but Sawyer didn’t care, because underneath that, he smelled like Jack.
“I was never going to leave you, Sawyer,” Jack told him. “But I never knew if you’d want to stay with me.”
“I wanna stay, Jack,” Sawyer told him, because after all of this, there wasn’t any point in denying it. If he lied, he wouldn’t be believed, and he would only cause the seed of doubt he had planted in Jack’s mind to grow.
“I want you to stay too,” Jack said.
The concept of staying put, of being with one person and one person only, should have seemed foreign and frightening, but didn’t. A year ago, it would have, but that was before the island had forced him to stay put, and before Jack had made him want to.
“So, what now? We get a house and a car and a dog and live happily ever after?” Sawyer asked, even though it didn’t sound like such a bad idea to him.
Jack just laughed and pulled back, keeping his arms around Sawyer’s waist and smiling. “Or we can travel. We can do anything we want.”
Sawyer nodded, running his hands back and forth over the back of Jack’s neck. “I thought you were leavin’ me,” he told him.
Jack nodded. “You’re a bonehead,” he replied. Sawyer laughed and shook his head. Jack smiled back at him and pulled Sawyer back into a loose embrace. Sawyer went willingly, shaking his head an marveling at just about everything: the world, himself, and especially Jack.
“So, are you ready to get out of the bathroom now?” Jack asked. Sawyer looked up and found Jack smiling at him, warmly, affectionately. He couldn’t ignore the burning sensation it caused, the weight of Jack’s attention and his love, but he did his best, smiling through it.
“Yeah,” he agreed. Jack’s smile grew just a bit wider and he leaned a fraction of an inch closer, placing a small, soft kiss on Sawyer’s temple and reaching for the door of the bathroom stall.
“Let’s go home,” Jack said, sounding as exhausted as he felt. Sawyer looked after him for a moment, marveling at the fact that he had, somehow, managed to find a place to go home to, and someone to go there with.
“You’re kidding,” Jack scoffed, disbelievingly. He was leaning back, comfortably, against the couch cushions. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He felt relaxed, more relaxed then he thought he’d been in his whole life.
The second he had walked in the door that day – that Friday – Sawyer had practically attacked him, pulling him into the living room and wrestling him onto the couch. Jack’s protests were meager, quiet, and half sincere. The truth was that he was exhausted, that it was the weekend now, and that all he really wanted was Sawyer’s hands on him.
So he had just relaxed into the couch as Sawyer had untied his tie and threw it around his neck, and he sat back and waited while Sawyer had begun to unbutton his shirt. He didn’t go nearly as far as Jack had thought he would, though, but with Sawyer sitting almost on top of him, his fingers running slowly through the hair on his chest, it was pretty hard to care.
After a while of it going on like that, Jack had brought up the list. Sawyer had laughed and shaken his head. Jack had asked if Sawyer had been putting him on, and Sawyer replied, emphatically, that no, there was a list.
The curiosity had gotten to be too much for him, so Jack had asked Sawyer to tell him. So he did.
“I ain’t kiddin’, doc,” Sawyer replied. He didn’t know whether or not to be amused or insulted by Jack’s reaction to his number one.
“But…that barely even counts,” Jack argued, looking up at Sawyer. Sawyer rolled his eyes and shook his head. Jack’s hand tightened on one of the legs Sawyer had over his lap, and Sawyer looked up.
“It does to me,” Sawyer replied. Jack’s face softened a bit and he nodded. “It’s my list. If you don’t like my number one, why don’t you make one of your own.”
Jack smirked up at him. “Maybe I will,” he replied, reaching up behind Sawyer’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Sawyer’s hand slid up Jack’s chest to his neck, and he held on, pulling Jack closer.
“So, are you going to tell me?” Jack asked, breathlessly, his hand still on the back of Sawyer's neck, playing with the shorter hairs there.
“ ‘bout what?” Sawyer replied unable to think very clearly while Jack was doing that to him.
“Why that’s number one,” Jack replied. Sawyer looked down, watching the thumb of Jack’s free hand run over his knee. His other hand continued to move through Sawyer’s blonde hair, tugging lightly at the ends before diving back in again. “I understand the others, but I get the feeling there's some weird, Sawyer-logic behind the last one.”
Sawyer looked down at Jack and made a face. “You callin’ me weird?” he asked, even that that wasn’t what he thought Jack was doing at all. Jack’s hand stilled in his hair for a half a second before it was moving again.
“No,” he replied, definitely. “I’m calling your logic weird.”
Sawyer sighed and rolled his head back into Jack’s fingers. He knew that was being overdramatic, and Jack seemed to as well, because all he did was smiled back at Sawyer.
“That’s number one,” Sawyer explained, though he made sure to sound fairly exasperated while he did it. “Because that was like this.” Jack looked up at him, still confused, and Sawyer took hold of the hand on his knee, winding its fingers around his. “I ain’t had this before. Not anything real, anyway. That's number one because that was the first time I really believed I could have it. By three I realized I deserved it, and five, well…”
Sawyer raised his eyebrows at Jack, who turned about eight different shades of red. “You remember what happened after five, doncha?”
Sawyer’s free hand found its way up Jack’s back, running up and down, setting the skin it touched on fire, even through Jack’s blue dress shirt. When Jack had regained his ability to breathe, he looked up at Sawyer with dark eyes and said, “I was there, wasn’t I?”
Sawyer laughed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jack’s and closing his eyes, replying adamantly, “Hell yes you were, baby.”
Jack’s hand tightened, nearly painfully, in Sawyer’s hair as he dragged him closer, as he pulled Sawyer into his lap and kissed him like they hadn’t kissed in months, like he absolutely couldn’t not anymore.
They only stopped kissing when they absolutely had to, ripping their lips apart almost painfully and gasping for badly-needed air. Their foreheads lingered against one another, though, as they breathed raggedly.
“God, I love kissing you,” Sawyer said, heavily. Jack nodded resolutely, holding onto Sawyer’s hips and trying to compose himself. “So?”
Jack opened his eyes, which drooped heavily. “So what?” he replied.
Sawyer smirked. “What’s your top five?”