V is for...
Words: 944
Rating: PG
Summary: Sawyer shows that not only can he be a villain - he can spell it too.
Ever since their first kiss, Charlie had been writing more than ever. He didn't know why, but it seemed like any time he was away from Sawyer, he was writing a song, or a lyric, or humming something under his breath. It was becoming sort of annoying, because he was quickly running out of paper.
Still, he sat beneath a tree, the familiar pad of paper on his right, his guitar in his lap, plucking a few strings while thinking. A small frown creased his lips and his hand couldn't help but tap the pen against the paper, watching it and trying to think up the next set of lyrics. The notes were already written, scribbled on not-at-all straight lines, small circles with lines that Sawyer had always said looked like golf clubs.
They didn't look like golf clubs at the moment, though, Charlie decided bitterly as he stared at them. The lyrics weren't coming for this one, as he couldn't think of anything that rhymed with 'orange.'
Just the person he needed to help him walked out from the jungle all of a sudden, while sweeping a piece of hair behind his ear. Sawyer glanced down towards Charlie before plopping on the ground next to the notepad, on Charlie's right side, and grabbed it to look down at it. "There isn't a word in the dictionary that rhymes with orange," he stated as he read over them.
Trying to hide the slightest blush at the fact that Sawyer was reading the lyrics, Charlie shrugged some. "I'll make one up." Except he couldn't think of one, especially not when the lyrics were about Sawyer. He wasn't even quite sure why he'd used the word orange. It had just sounded right. Now, he was hating the choice.
Eyes scanning over the paper, seeming oblivious about the fact that the words were about him, Sawyer stated, "You suck at spelling."
Charlie had been focusing on his guitar, playing a few of the strings in an attempt to figure out if maybe one was out of tune, but then he heard the words. Looking up to Sawyer, he frowned. "No. I finished school. You dropped out four years early. Tenth grade?" He wasn't even sure - the American system of school had always confused him. He just knew it was four years early, and that Sawyer didn't have a degree.
"Ninth. I'm not saying you didn't finish school. I'm saying you spelled things wrong."
"Like what?" he finally challenged.
"Like 'villian.' It's 'villain.'" He frowned, realizing that he was just pronouncing it the same way. "Gimme your pen." Holding out his hand, he waited, but got nothing. "What? You don't trust me."
It wasn't that he didn't trust him. It was just that more than once, Sawyer had written little notes on the paper. Once, he'd even been so childish as to write 'Charlie is a big, stinky poo' because he knew that the three year old Aaron could find it and look at it. He'd wanted to write something mean, considering Charlie hadn't let them have sex because he was too 'busy' watching Aaron, but had just went with that. "It's my pen."
"And you don't know how to spell. Give. Me." The hand that was held out closed the slightest bit before opening, Sawyer trying to prompt Charlie to give him the pen. Surprisingly, he got it. A small line was written through the last three letters, and he wrote 'ain' next to it.
Frowning, Charlie looked at the paper. "No. It's I-A-N. Not A-I-N." He quickly grabbed the notebook back, but Sawyer wouldn't give him the pen.
That was it. Placing the guitar down, Charlie quickly tackled Sawyer, fighting him for the pen. His hands moved quickly, trying to find the pen and claim it once more as his own, but Sawyer had years of experience on his side. In the end, Charlie was left empty-handed, and Sawyer laughing. He would try to tickle the other, but knew it wouldn't work. "Sawyer! It's my bloody pen!"
"That's nice. Come on. I got a pocket dictionary in our tent." Standing, he held onto the pen, and walked towards the tent. It took a few seconds until he heard Charlie running over him, closing the notepad and keeping a firm grip around his guitar.
When they got to the tent and Sawyer had the book in his hand, he looked back at Charlie. "I'll bet you. If I'm right, you have to get water from the caves for a week. If you're right, I'll watch Aaron for a week whenever Claire wants."
That definitely wasn't enough, Charlie decided as he looked at the book. "That, and you have to help Rose with laundry for two weeks." It was only loading and unloading the washer and dryer in the hatch, but it was still annoying.
Smirking, Sawyer gave a nod and flipped open the book. Right beneath 'villa' was the word. He showed Charlie briefly before pressing the book against the other's chest, and walked off towards where he could see Jack, feeling like annoying him.
Frowning, Charlie began to flip through the book to 'villian.' Maybe it was just a European spelling? But between 'villi' and 'villiform' was absolutely nothing. He tried to think up a good insult and could only think of, "Yeah, well, you only know how to spell it because you are one, you big--" He noticed Aaron out of the corner of his eye, sitting with Claire at her tent. Lowering his voice, he muttered, "Villain." Why was he always right? Weren't villains supposed to be stupid and wrong all the time?
Rating: PG
Summary: Sawyer shows that not only can he be a villain - he can spell it too.
Ever since their first kiss, Charlie had been writing more than ever. He didn't know why, but it seemed like any time he was away from Sawyer, he was writing a song, or a lyric, or humming something under his breath. It was becoming sort of annoying, because he was quickly running out of paper.
Still, he sat beneath a tree, the familiar pad of paper on his right, his guitar in his lap, plucking a few strings while thinking. A small frown creased his lips and his hand couldn't help but tap the pen against the paper, watching it and trying to think up the next set of lyrics. The notes were already written, scribbled on not-at-all straight lines, small circles with lines that Sawyer had always said looked like golf clubs.
They didn't look like golf clubs at the moment, though, Charlie decided bitterly as he stared at them. The lyrics weren't coming for this one, as he couldn't think of anything that rhymed with 'orange.'
Just the person he needed to help him walked out from the jungle all of a sudden, while sweeping a piece of hair behind his ear. Sawyer glanced down towards Charlie before plopping on the ground next to the notepad, on Charlie's right side, and grabbed it to look down at it. "There isn't a word in the dictionary that rhymes with orange," he stated as he read over them.
Trying to hide the slightest blush at the fact that Sawyer was reading the lyrics, Charlie shrugged some. "I'll make one up." Except he couldn't think of one, especially not when the lyrics were about Sawyer. He wasn't even quite sure why he'd used the word orange. It had just sounded right. Now, he was hating the choice.
Eyes scanning over the paper, seeming oblivious about the fact that the words were about him, Sawyer stated, "You suck at spelling."
Charlie had been focusing on his guitar, playing a few of the strings in an attempt to figure out if maybe one was out of tune, but then he heard the words. Looking up to Sawyer, he frowned. "No. I finished school. You dropped out four years early. Tenth grade?" He wasn't even sure - the American system of school had always confused him. He just knew it was four years early, and that Sawyer didn't have a degree.
"Ninth. I'm not saying you didn't finish school. I'm saying you spelled things wrong."
"Like what?" he finally challenged.
"Like 'villian.' It's 'villain.'" He frowned, realizing that he was just pronouncing it the same way. "Gimme your pen." Holding out his hand, he waited, but got nothing. "What? You don't trust me."
It wasn't that he didn't trust him. It was just that more than once, Sawyer had written little notes on the paper. Once, he'd even been so childish as to write 'Charlie is a big, stinky poo' because he knew that the three year old Aaron could find it and look at it. He'd wanted to write something mean, considering Charlie hadn't let them have sex because he was too 'busy' watching Aaron, but had just went with that. "It's my pen."
"And you don't know how to spell. Give. Me." The hand that was held out closed the slightest bit before opening, Sawyer trying to prompt Charlie to give him the pen. Surprisingly, he got it. A small line was written through the last three letters, and he wrote 'ain' next to it.
Frowning, Charlie looked at the paper. "No. It's I-A-N. Not A-I-N." He quickly grabbed the notebook back, but Sawyer wouldn't give him the pen.
That was it. Placing the guitar down, Charlie quickly tackled Sawyer, fighting him for the pen. His hands moved quickly, trying to find the pen and claim it once more as his own, but Sawyer had years of experience on his side. In the end, Charlie was left empty-handed, and Sawyer laughing. He would try to tickle the other, but knew it wouldn't work. "Sawyer! It's my bloody pen!"
"That's nice. Come on. I got a pocket dictionary in our tent." Standing, he held onto the pen, and walked towards the tent. It took a few seconds until he heard Charlie running over him, closing the notepad and keeping a firm grip around his guitar.
When they got to the tent and Sawyer had the book in his hand, he looked back at Charlie. "I'll bet you. If I'm right, you have to get water from the caves for a week. If you're right, I'll watch Aaron for a week whenever Claire wants."
That definitely wasn't enough, Charlie decided as he looked at the book. "That, and you have to help Rose with laundry for two weeks." It was only loading and unloading the washer and dryer in the hatch, but it was still annoying.
Smirking, Sawyer gave a nod and flipped open the book. Right beneath 'villa' was the word. He showed Charlie briefly before pressing the book against the other's chest, and walked off towards where he could see Jack, feeling like annoying him.
Frowning, Charlie began to flip through the book to 'villian.' Maybe it was just a European spelling? But between 'villi' and 'villiform' was absolutely nothing. He tried to think up a good insult and could only think of, "Yeah, well, you only know how to spell it because you are one, you big--" He noticed Aaron out of the corner of his eye, sitting with Claire at her tent. Lowering his voice, he muttered, "Villain." Why was he always right? Weren't villains supposed to be stupid and wrong all the time?