F is for...
Words: 882
Rating: R-ish; Slightly graphic mentions of sex
Summary: No matter what Charlie's done, Sawyer thinks they can be friends again.
Author's Note: I don't like this story. It's a new writing technique I wanted to try, and it's short, and ew. Comment and tell me what you think?
It all started out as them being friends. A few words spoken one day out of boredom, a couple of stories shared, a simple smile… They had begun to spend more and more time together. Sawyer hadn't ever understood it, but he had welcomed it, because it brought a cure from the insanity of the island.
They'd ended up having meals together, telling of their pasts, even drinking Sawyer's stored liquor over a nice fire. There'd been laughs, a few grins, and a rare smile that Sawyer barely ever gave.
After that, it'd moved too fast for either of them to realize. One minute Charlie was telling about how he'd had sex with the drummer of a band that Liam hated, and how they'd fought, and the next minute they'd been in Sawyer's tent, desperately biting their tongues and trying not to make any noise.
It'd gone better than any relationship Sawyer had ever known. He'd had a few over the years, but they'd been simple and meaningless. The only one that he'd actually cared about had been with Cassidy, but that had been a con. For some reason, Sawyer couldn't help but think Charlie was conning him out of him, maybe for Jack, maybe for himself, but it was definitely working if so.
More than two years had been spent together. Twenty five months and two weeks had been shared, everything working out, the two becoming the new 'married' couple of the island. Jack got with Kate, Ana with Michael, and it had all seemed great.
Then one morning, it'd all changed when someone had spotted a ship coming near them, and the entire island was rescued minus one. At the last possible moment, Locke had ran, but no one had gone to get him, no one caring enough. It seemed he liked the island more than civilization; great for him. He could die there or start a casino and Sawyer wouldn't care.
They'd even lasted after the rescue, making it eight weeks. Apparently no one could find the island again, trying their hardest but no satellites, no ships and no planes could see it. No one cared though; they were gone.
But Sawyer should've known better. He had been with one person for twenty seven months; there was no possible way it could've lasted any longer. He had gone to one of Charlie's concerts, as he'd been quickly picked back up as the lead singer of Driveshaft and they were making it better than last time, and it'd gone great. It had taken twenty minutes after the show had ended to get backstage, having to prove who he was.
When he'd gotten to Charlie's dressing room, he hadn't thought much of the shut door, or the noises inside. He hadn't thought much of the weary looks he'd gotten from people, or the way one of the band was missing. He hadn't even thought much of the gasp as the door opened, thinking he'd just startled Charlie.
He had, but for a different reason. Charlie had been pressed against a wall, someone moving quickly within him while jerking him off, whispering things heatidly into his ear. A few of them hit his own, sounding like, 'You're so hot like this' and 'I want to fuck you all night long.' He'd noticed it was the drummer, but hadn't said a word, just watching for a few seconds as his body had shut down. Only when he heard the drummer say, 'I own you, don't I? More than that boyfriend of yours,' managed out a snort of annoyance, of anger, of something, had he moved.
The curse followed by the calls from Charlie had been heard, but he'd left that day, walking out and not looking back. They'd promised to be exclusive, he'd even gotten over his obstacle of trust, had even said he loved him. And then he'd done something like that.
Now, four months later, Sawyer stands at the front door of Charlie's house, just staring at it. He had known this would be difficult, but it shouldn't be this difficult. A small box of candy is in his hand, so cliché and generally reserved for girls, but he knows he needs to make up to Charlie, for something that is the other man's fault.
At least the fucking had been. He'd been used by the drummer, something Sawyer hadn't done to him ever, caring about him enough to know not to shove him against a wall. But he knows the fact that he ignored Charlie's phone calls, letters, and everything else is his fault, and he has to apologize for that.
He needs to so desperately, because the past four months have been hell. Way too much alcohol, a few doses of drugs, and so many people he couldn't count left him feeling drained. So he rings the doorbell, swallowing back the pride his father had long since instilled in him, and waits.
As the door opens, a curious Charlie answering before his look turns to shocked, a smile breaking out on his face, Sawyer knows he can do this. "Hey," he whispers, and it's all he has to say for the entire world it seems to know that he's finally caved in, that he wants to be friends again.
Rating: R-ish; Slightly graphic mentions of sex
Summary: No matter what Charlie's done, Sawyer thinks they can be friends again.
Author's Note: I don't like this story. It's a new writing technique I wanted to try, and it's short, and ew. Comment and tell me what you think?
It all started out as them being friends. A few words spoken one day out of boredom, a couple of stories shared, a simple smile… They had begun to spend more and more time together. Sawyer hadn't ever understood it, but he had welcomed it, because it brought a cure from the insanity of the island.
They'd ended up having meals together, telling of their pasts, even drinking Sawyer's stored liquor over a nice fire. There'd been laughs, a few grins, and a rare smile that Sawyer barely ever gave.
After that, it'd moved too fast for either of them to realize. One minute Charlie was telling about how he'd had sex with the drummer of a band that Liam hated, and how they'd fought, and the next minute they'd been in Sawyer's tent, desperately biting their tongues and trying not to make any noise.
It'd gone better than any relationship Sawyer had ever known. He'd had a few over the years, but they'd been simple and meaningless. The only one that he'd actually cared about had been with Cassidy, but that had been a con. For some reason, Sawyer couldn't help but think Charlie was conning him out of him, maybe for Jack, maybe for himself, but it was definitely working if so.
More than two years had been spent together. Twenty five months and two weeks had been shared, everything working out, the two becoming the new 'married' couple of the island. Jack got with Kate, Ana with Michael, and it had all seemed great.
Then one morning, it'd all changed when someone had spotted a ship coming near them, and the entire island was rescued minus one. At the last possible moment, Locke had ran, but no one had gone to get him, no one caring enough. It seemed he liked the island more than civilization; great for him. He could die there or start a casino and Sawyer wouldn't care.
They'd even lasted after the rescue, making it eight weeks. Apparently no one could find the island again, trying their hardest but no satellites, no ships and no planes could see it. No one cared though; they were gone.
But Sawyer should've known better. He had been with one person for twenty seven months; there was no possible way it could've lasted any longer. He had gone to one of Charlie's concerts, as he'd been quickly picked back up as the lead singer of Driveshaft and they were making it better than last time, and it'd gone great. It had taken twenty minutes after the show had ended to get backstage, having to prove who he was.
When he'd gotten to Charlie's dressing room, he hadn't thought much of the shut door, or the noises inside. He hadn't thought much of the weary looks he'd gotten from people, or the way one of the band was missing. He hadn't even thought much of the gasp as the door opened, thinking he'd just startled Charlie.
He had, but for a different reason. Charlie had been pressed against a wall, someone moving quickly within him while jerking him off, whispering things heatidly into his ear. A few of them hit his own, sounding like, 'You're so hot like this' and 'I want to fuck you all night long.' He'd noticed it was the drummer, but hadn't said a word, just watching for a few seconds as his body had shut down. Only when he heard the drummer say, 'I own you, don't I? More than that boyfriend of yours,' managed out a snort of annoyance, of anger, of something, had he moved.
The curse followed by the calls from Charlie had been heard, but he'd left that day, walking out and not looking back. They'd promised to be exclusive, he'd even gotten over his obstacle of trust, had even said he loved him. And then he'd done something like that.
Now, four months later, Sawyer stands at the front door of Charlie's house, just staring at it. He had known this would be difficult, but it shouldn't be this difficult. A small box of candy is in his hand, so cliché and generally reserved for girls, but he knows he needs to make up to Charlie, for something that is the other man's fault.
At least the fucking had been. He'd been used by the drummer, something Sawyer hadn't done to him ever, caring about him enough to know not to shove him against a wall. But he knows the fact that he ignored Charlie's phone calls, letters, and everything else is his fault, and he has to apologize for that.
He needs to so desperately, because the past four months have been hell. Way too much alcohol, a few doses of drugs, and so many people he couldn't count left him feeling drained. So he rings the doorbell, swallowing back the pride his father had long since instilled in him, and waits.
As the door opens, a curious Charlie answering before his look turns to shocked, a smile breaking out on his face, Sawyer knows he can do this. "Hey," he whispers, and it's all he has to say for the entire world it seems to know that he's finally caved in, that he wants to be friends again.