A Pain That I'm Used To - Part Six
Series: A Pain That I’m Used To
Title: Part Six: Loved
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Note: Futurefic - set 1 year post-rescue
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
A/N: So...230 pages later, "A Pain That I'm Used To" is finally done. I wanted to thank everybody who has been reading this for the past three and a half months and been giving me such wonderful encouragement, time and time again. You are all so fantastic. I'd especially like to thank zelda_zee, who has been with me since the beginning, championing this story and being a great friend.
A/N #2: The fabulous vivilit made me this wonderful banner and icon for this story. *loves vivilit for eternity*
Still in love with all your sins
Where you stop and I'll begin
I’ll be waiting
Living like a house on fire
What you fear is your desire
It’s hard to deal
But I still love the way you feel…
Swallow all your bitter pills
Cause that's what makes you beautiful
You’re all I’m not
I don’t need what you ain’t got...
- The Goo Goo Dolls
The wood is a deep mahogany, smoothed and shined to a polished veneer, kept immaculate, still looking brand new despite the bar’s age, despite all those years of use and abuse, despite everything. Sawyer likes to run his hands over it, feeling it underneath his palms, on nights that he’s stuck working late and can’t get home when he wants to. It reminds him of Jack for some reason, something about the beauty of it, the way even the natural imperfections only seem to make it more pure, more real. Strong and solid, still standing after years of strain and mistreatment, resilient no matter what is thrown at it.
So he runs his hands over it now, glancing at the clock and wishing that the minutes would pass by faster, that time would speed up. The problem with working in an upscale bar, apart from having to wear fashionably “casual” wear that only differed from his usual digs by the suave labels inside, is that the bar could be rented out for parties for corporations and the like that are too rich for their own good, to whom the usual closing time does not apply. Tonight the room is filled with hotshot lawyers and their assorted mistresses and wives, toasting one another on their own importance and their own success.
“Got somewhere to be, Sawyer?” His fellow bartender, Adam, asks, leaning onto the counter beside him and arching his eyebrow.
“No,” Sawyer mutters. “Just wonderin’ how much longer they’re gonna drag this little soiree on, that’s all. A guy’s gotta sleep sometime.”
“Not these guys,” Adam replies, smiling. “They can pay someone to do that for them.”
“Ha. Yeah, I’ll bet,” Sawyer nods, snorting to himself as he turns and picks up a rag, wiping down the counter for about the hundredth time in the past hour. Adam smiles at a pretty blonde across the room, hanging on the arm of a middle-aged man in a pinstriped suit, clearly bored by his companionship. Adam nudges Sawyer in the ribs with his elbow.
“Hey, we’re low on amaretto, why don’t you go grab some from the back?” He suggests. Sawyer glances at the rack behind the bar and scowls.
“We ain’t low on am’retto, ya dumb fuck, what are you-“
“Just shut up and go, would you? These girls see you and I don’t even get a chance. You totally Zack Morris my Screech.”
“I do what now?”
“Just go, would you?’
“Fine, geez, you’re pushy,” Sawyer mumbles, tossing his rag behind the counter and walking away, pushing through the double doors to the back room. Figuring he’d give the kid a minute, he heads out the back door and into the alley, digging his cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one up.
He leans against the brick wall and inhales a deep breath of the warm night air; it smells like summer now, the smell of greenery mixed with exhaust fumes, a hint of Chinese food wafting in the air from nearby Chinatown. Smells of the city. Same in Toronto as they were in Boston, but he doesn’t mind them so much now.
“How come you never smoke them?” A soft female voice carries down the alley and a second later is followed by the woman herself, stepping out into the gaunt yellow light cast by the flickering bulb above the back door. Lisa. One of the waitresses from the restaurant next door - a fellow smoker, an acquaintance of proximity, not choice. A failed actress with a quite successful boob job and reputation for blatant flirtation. Subtle is not a word she seems to know. He’s not in the mood for it tonight, not in the mood to make nice, smile and be charming. He just wants to be home, be with Jack. “It seems like a waste of money to me.”
“Trying to break the habit.” Sawyer holds up the cigarette in front of him and looks at it critically for a second before lowering it and flicking ash from its tip to the ground.
“Why?”
“Boyfriend doesn’t like the taste,” Sawyer smirks at her. He’s never used the term boyfriend in front of Jack, but he’s learned to love the reaction he gets when he makes that big reveal to others, the looks on the girls’ faces when they realize they have no chance. They think it’s because they don’t have dicks. They actually have even less of a chance than that, is what he holds back; they have no chance because they’re not Jack.
“Your…boyfriend?” Lisa repeats, not bothering to hide her surprise. Sawyer’s smirk broadens into an outright cocky grin. He flicks the cigarette to the ground and opens up the door behind him.
“Yeah. And if ya think I’m cute, you should see him,” he teases before disappearing inside, leaving her in the alley alone. He chuckles to himself as he pushes back through the swinging doors, the bar seeming especially loud and raucous compared to the low late-night hum of the city outside. He finds Adam leaning dejectedly against the back counter and frowns at him, spreading his hands in a gesture of frustration and dismay. “Ya struck out? Already?”
Adam jerks his head toward the end of the bar and rolls his eyes.
“It’s not fair, you guys don’t even want them,” he mutters, annoyed.
Sawyer follows Adam’s gesture to find Jack sitting at the end of the bar, another flirtatious boob job offering to buy him a drink. He watches with amusement as Jack stiffly tries to ward her off, polite but friendly, never one to be brash like Sawyer in sending potential admirers on their way.
“You and your life partner are killing my sex life.”
“What did I tell you about callin’ him that? Jesus christ that shit’s annoying,” Sawyer threatens, punching Adam once, quite hard, in the shoulder, but he follows it up with a good natured slap on the back, his face loosening into a taunting grin. “And we can’t help it, man, we’re just sexy sons of bitches.”
“It’s not fuckin’ right. They’re practically throwing it at you.”
“Gotta let it go, horndog, gotta let it go…” Sawyer tells him, but Adam just grunts, still irked. Sawyer nods, smiling lightly as he thinks of a real quick fix. “Here, lemme clear this up for ya,” He says with the patience of a parent soothing a stubborn child. He walks down to the end of the bar where another girl has joined her friend in fawning over Jack, evidently not put off by the fact that Jack has told them he’s seeing someone. One of them lays her hand on Jack’s forearm as Sawyer approaches; Sawyer smirks. He’s going to enjoy this.
“Can I get you folks anythin’? He asks congenially, rubbing his hands together and plastering his best customer service smile on his face, the one so fake it usually hurts to use it.
“I’ll take a Midori Sour, and…he’ll have…let me guess, scotch. Neat.” The blonde smiles flirtatiously at Jack, thinking she’s making quite the impression.
“No, I think he’s definitely a beer guy. But the real stuff. Guinness,” the other woman posits, tossing her hair over her shoulder and shooting her friend a contemptuous look, one-upping her competitively.
“What’ll it be?” Sawyer asks Jack, who just shoots him a look in return, wondering what game he’s playing at, pretending Jack’s just any other customer. Sawyer shakes his head and pretends to study Jack critically. Jack’s about to open his mouth and stop his fun but Sawyer continues. “No, ladies, I don’t think this one’s much of a drinker, myself. Now, me,” Sawyer puts one hand on his chest, aiming a dazzling, charming smile at one of the girls. “I enjoy the simple, cheaper things in life. Right outta the bottle.”
He reaches behind him to open one of the clear glass fridges and grabs a Labatt, popping off the metal cap with practiced ease. Sawyer takes a long drink and then sighs. “That’s what I call refreshin’,” He states with such overdone enthusiasm that it sounds like he’s auditioning for a commercial. “You want some?” He tilts the bottle in Jack’s direction.
“Yeah, sure, fine,” Jack puts up his hands slightly, giving in, letting Sawyer lead him down whatever road he’s traveling. “I’ll take one.” Sawyer reaches to give him a bottle and when Jack moves to take it, Sawyer closes his hand over his, leaning over the bar and reaching with his other hand to grab Jack’s tie, pulling him forward and up off his bar stool.
He captures Jack’s mouth with his, slipping his tongue in and angling to go as deeply as possible, as quickly as possible. Jack can taste the alcohol on his lips, on his tongue. When he pulls away, Sawyer looks quite pleased with himself, having sufficiently marked his territory.
“Now if ya’ll wouldn’t mind unhandin’ what’s mine, that’d be mighty nice,” Sawyer drawls at the two women, who look positively dismayed. Shooting them both dirty looks, they turn and walk away.
“When did you get so possessive?” Jack asks him, trying not to laugh and not entirely succeeding. “You just lost a lot of tip money right there.”
“Worth every penny,” he replies, leaning against the bar and smiling at Jack. “You gotta learn to toughen up on these broads, Jackie Boy. Just tell ‘em you’re not interested!”
”I did. They didn’t seem to care much.”
“So you just let them paw you all over place.”
“Sawyer, women paw at you every night,” Jack points out. “You don’t see me worrying about it.”
“Then what are you doin’ here, checkin’ up on me?” Sawyer taunts.
“I’m not checking up on you,” Jack shakes his head in wonder at Sawyer’s ego.
“Well you should be in bed, patiently waitin’ for me to come home, crawl in next to ya and fuck you senseless.” Jack faintly blushes at this; Sawyer chuckles. He’s so easy to embarrass.
“It was a late night at the hospital. Just got out. I thought I’d swing by.”
“You look tired.”
“An 18 hour day will do that to you,” Jack replies, sighing, running his hand over the back of his head. Tired is an understatement. He’s utterly exhausted, but too tense to go home and sleep. “I lost two patients today.”
“Shit.”
“One we didn’t have a chance. The surgery was more of a last ditch effort; the family wanted to say that they did everything they could, I think. But the other was….unexpected. He crashed right in the middle of surgery. Heart failure.” He rubs his head with the back of his head, distressed.
“Can’t save ‘em all, Doc,” Sawyer states, pushing a beer in Jack’s direction again. “Anythin’ I can do?”
“Not really. It is what it is, right? I can’t change it now, can’t go back.”
“Still sucks.” He looks at Jack, knowing that sad look on his face and hating it, wants to erase it. He punishes himself every time this happens, even though these things are just the way of life and would’ve happened no matter what surgeon was doing the cutting. “Come on. I got somethin’ that’ll take your mind off it.” He gestures for Jack to come around the bar and Jack obliges after a moment’s hesitation, not really in the mood for cheering up. “Follow me.” He points to Adam, winking at him. “Adam, we’ll be right back.”
Jack smiles kindly at Adam in acknowledgement as Sawyer grabs his wrist and leads him through the back doors, ignoring Adam’s frustrated groan of “Again? You guys are like freaking rabbits.”
“You’re pissing Adam off,” Jack chuckles as Sawyer pushes him out the back door into the alley and Sawyer shrugs, grinning.
“What don’t piss that boy off?” He retorts, grabbing Jack’s tie again and winding it around his hand, reeling him in close. Sawyer turns, taking Jack with him, pressing Jack toward the wall.
“This is an expensive suit, Sawyer,” Jack warns him, half-joking, as Sawyer forces him against the dirty brick behind them, the fabric catching on the rough edges of mortar.
“Don’t care,” Sawyer mumbles, pushing Jack’s suit coat half off his upper body, leaving it at his elbows, and then starting to loosen his tie.
“And here I thought you liked me in my expensive suits,” Jack replies, closing his eyes as Sawyer’s mouth attacks his neck. He swallows hard and Sawyer can feel it underneath his lips. He grins against Jack’s skin.
“Like you without ‘em too,” he says, slipping his hand down the front of Jack’s black pants, finding the boxer briefs Jack sometimes favored when wearing said expensive suits. Jack grunts as Sawyer cups him roughly through the material, finding him hard and ready. “You’re all wound up,” Sawyer breathes in his ear, a deep, throaty laugh rumbling up from his chest and tickling Jack’s neck. “Need ta relax, Doc.”
“Sawyer, we shouldn’t. Not here,” Jack warns.
“What, you want to do it on the loading dock, like last time?” Sawyer suggests, knowing full well Jack meant he didn’t want to do it here, at the bar, at all. He always protested whenever Sawyer dragged him away, saying that the storage room, the loading dock, the bathroom, the boss’ office, the walk-in refrigerator…that all of these places were highly inappropriate and that Sawyer would get fired if anyone found out.
Sawyer always responded by assuring Jack that some night after the bar closes, he fully intends on fucking him right on that mahogany bar top. So the storage room, the office, all of it, is just a preamble to the real risk. And if he gets fired, it would totally be worth it.
He wants to take Jack everywhere, and luckily, Jack can’t seem to say no. Last week it’d been an empty room in the hospital, Sawyer dirtying the clean sheets and sterile surfaces with their sweat and their come, taking Jack twice from behind before he let him return to work. The week before it had been the rest room at the symphony. Some benefit for the hospital and Sawyer had gotten bored. He couldn’t be blamed for that. So off came the black ties and down went Jack’s pants. He still wonders at their luck for not getting caught.
Whoever said sex was a weapon was dead on. Sawyer feels like he’s carpet-bombed the entire city, that Jack can’t turn a corner without remembering some place where Sawyer had driven him to the brink and pushed him over, causing an explosion of pure lust and desire. He’s laid land mines of memory everywhere in hopes that thoughts of Kate will be obliterated completely from Jack’s consciousness.
So it’s not only the appeal of public sex that has him so ready and willing to go, anytime, any place. In fact, the past two months had been spent re-christening every room in Jack’s house. They’d sucked or fucked on every surface, from the kitchen table to the foyer floor, the cold cement of the basement to the stifling heat of the attic, like Sawyer wanted to screw the memory of Kate out of every nook and cranny. It seems to have worked splendidly.
Sawyer knows he shouldn’t worry. He knows Jack chose him that day, even before he knew Kate had made the choice for him.
But nothing good has ever lasted in his life, and he’s not about to start trusting it now.
He slides his hands into Jack’s underwear, gripping him firmly, reminding him of the one thing Sawyer can give him that he’s never gotten in the same way from anyone else. Jack grunts at the contact and leans his head back against the brick wall, exposing the arch of his neck to Sawyer’s searching mouth.
Sawyer’s tongue darts from between his lips and licks a line exposed skin at the collar of Jack’s dress shirt up the nape of his neck to his jaw line, lingering there for a moment before kissing him again, slipping along the strong line of his face and neck, the skin roughened by a day’s worth of stubble but still highly sensitive to Sawyer’s attentions.
Jack lets out a long breath, something akin to a sigh of relaxation, his hips pressing forward into Sawyer’s touch, his own left hand settling on Sawyer’s right hip. His other falls to Sawyer’s forearm, brushing over Sawyer’s heated skin with this fingertips while everything from Sawyer’s upper wrist down disappears past Jack’s waistband, twisting and grabbing beneath the soft loose fabric of Jack’s pants and the tight material of his underwear, which is growing tighter by the second.
Sawyer is about to shove the annoying barrier out of his way, push Jack’s clothes down his legs and expose every inch of Jack to his desirous touch when the click of high heels on pavement distracts him. He knows Jack hears it too, because Jack tenses underneath his grip and starts to pull away. Sawyer gives Jack a short shake of the head, telling him to wait.
Out of the corner of his eye he can see Lisa walking from her usual smoking place toward the back door of the restaurant. He can’t see her face clearly in the half-light, but he thinks she might actually seem embarrassed.
“Sorry, I didn’t know how to interrupt you without, um, you know, interrupting you,” She laughs nervously, pausing a few steps away from Jack and Sawyer when she realizes they’ve seen her. “Thought I could sneak away.”
“Didn’t see you there. Sorry,” Sawyer mumbles, not sounding too terribly apologetic. His hands are still down Jack’s pants; he gives Jack a purposeful stroke and Jack tries to stifle a gasp but can’t. This deliberate attempt at offense seems to bring Lisa’s sense of play back. She takes a drag of her cigarette and looks them both up and down, an amused grin playing at her lips, which are colored an unnatural candy apple red that seems too bright even in the dim light of the alleyway.
“So this is your boyfriend, huh?” She eyes Jack approvingly and then clicks her tongue decisively, appreciatively. “You’re right,” she nods, glancing between the two men. “He is cuter than you.” Lisa spins on her stiletto heel, flicking her wasted cigarette onto the pavement with her manicured fingers and walking away. “Have fun, boys,” she tosses back over her shoulder. Jack breathes a sigh of relief as the door to the restaurant closes and she disappears from view. Sawyer just grins.
‘You know her?” Jack asks him, his eyes shutting tightly in embarrassment. Sawyer presses his own body closer to Jack’s, fitting himself over Jack’s thigh. His arm is pretty much halfway down Jack’s pants now, his erection rubbing suggestively against Jack’s leg. He starts a slow grind, using a short, barely noticeable urging of his hips to cause just enough friction to drive his own cock crazy.
“Waitress next door. From what I’ve heard, this ain’t nothin’ she never seen before,” Sawyer murmurs in Jack’s ear, his breath so hot and his mouth so close that Jack swears he can feel the words, not hear them. “No worries, Jackie boy. She ain’t gonna turn us in to the Prude Police.” He snakes one hand from the front of Jack’s pants around to Jack’s backside, running over his ass and then up the small of his back, trapped tightly between his body and the wall, pushing Jack forward while his other hand picks up where it left off. “Now where were we?”
“Oh shit,” Jack whispers as a surge of lust rushes through him, his dick hardening even more, almost to the point of pain. He wonders for a second if Sawyer is turning him into a sex addict, the kind of guy who fucks in the back alley five feet away from a dirty dumpster at two-thirty in the morning simply because he can’t wait to get home and screw in the privacy of his own home like a normal person.
Jack wonders because even though this is happening now, he knows he’s still going to want to fuck Sawyer again when they do get home.
“What are you doing to me?” He asks out loud and a husky laugh erupts from Sawyer’s throat.
“If you don’t know by now…” He kisses Jack’s neck, his teeth grazing his skin lightly.
“So you…you told her…I was your…boyfriend?” Jack manages to ask between thrusts, which are starting to grow more erratic, both his and Sawyer’s.
“Shut up,” Sawyer retorts, fisting Jack harder in response. Jack smiles.
“You think of me as your boyfriend?” He inquires, managing to sound much more amused this time, mustering up a teasing tone, as breathless as it is.
“I think of you as mine, Jackass,” Sawyer replies. “Think I’ll tattoo it on ya right here.” He runs his finger over Jack’s arm, where he knows his other tattoo ends underneath the fabric of his shirt. “In big fuckin’ capital letters.”
“God damn, you are possessive,” Jack taunts and Sawyer nods, brushing his lips against Jack’s for the first time since they stepped outside.
“Yep,” he says plainly, deepening the kiss as he increases the pace and pressure of his hand on Jack’s cock, his own hips moving so hard, so instinctively, that he’s basically dry humping Jack’s leg like an over ecstatic teenager. He needs something more, and fast. As his tongue duels with Jack’s, he extracts his right hand from behind Jack’s body and hurriedly starts to pull off Jack’s tie, unbutton his shirt, preparing for what’s about to happen.
That done, Sawyer unzips his pants and pulls himself out; quickly he repeats the same motion for Jack. He sees Jack glance up and down the alley, worried about being noticed.
He crushes his body to Jack’s, pinning him against the wall with his weight, cock against cock, and grinds once, hard. He doesn’t want Jack to have the presence of mind to think about consequences or repercussions, he just wants Jack to lose himself in the moment, to surrender himself to the same overpowering sense of want that’s coursing through his entire body.
“I don’t care Jack. Let someone see us. I don’t give a damn,” Sawyer states forcefully, his voice lowering to a near animalistic growl, sounding like pure sex. “In fact, I wanna make you scream so loud, we’ll draw us a big crowd.”
“Fucking exhibitionist,” Jack mumbles against Sawyer’s lips as they kiss again, silencing his words. Sawyer merely nods in response, his hands snaking around Jack’s neck, his fingers splayed wide to touch as much of him as possible. They start moving against one another, setting a pace meant for quick release, not a challenge of stamina. Sawyer wants him so badly that he can feel the yearning in every inch of his body; if Jack’s groans are any indication, he’s nearing the breaking point as well.
Jack reaches down, his fingers sliding between their bodies to grab hold of them both, but Sawyer stops him, taking Jack’s hands and pinning them above Jack’s head, twining Jack’s fingers with his. The heat between their two bodies is enough, the friction intense; the slide of one hardness against another, the rub of skin against skin, movement of muscle and soft sensation of fabric…it’s more than enough. It’s too much.
Sawyer’s the one who yells out as he comes, a loud curse echoing off the buildings and bouncing down the alleyway. Jack lets out a grunt, elongated but quiet, his entire body tensing as he and Sawyer come together, coating Jack’s bare chest with the sticky mess. Jack feels paralyzed afterward, barely registering Sawyer kneeling down, or Sawyer’s tongue moving over his skin until Sawyer slides a come-covered finger past his lips, urging Jack to suck it clean while he does the rest. Jack obliges, wrapping his mouth around Sawyer’s finger, both Sawyer’s and his own less familiar taste on Sawyer’s skin.
When Sawyer finally stops, Jack is still trembling, feeling overwhelmed by how intense his orgasm actually was. Every time together feels stronger than the last, leaving him feeling like he’s given everything he can give, though Sawyer always proves him wrong by taking more. Sawyer runs his tongue just once across Jack’s tip, licking off the last remnants of their encounter, and Jack gasps, his cock twitching. Sawyer grins, quite liking that reaction, and does it again, swirling his tongue around it this time, knowing how sensitive Jack’s head is. Jack sighs, nearly whimpers, and Sawyer chuckles, pleased with Jack’s reaction to his efforts. Jack opens his eyes and looks down at Sawyer.
‘What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, his voice cracking, breathless. Sawyer responds by taking Jack’s wasted dick in his mouth entirely, slipping his tongue along the underside while his hand slips between Jack’s legs, finding the highly sensitive skin behind and rubbing it gently with his finger.
“Sawyer, I can’t…” He starts, shaking his head and trying to push Sawyer away, but Sawyer augments the pressure, liking the feel of Jack’s cock swelling inside his mouth and knowing he can make it happen. And Jack does prove himself a liar, getting hard again, thickening and straining against the flat of Sawyer’s tongue before he even realizes it.
He looks down at Sawyer’s blonde head bobbing between his thighs, Sawyer’s fingers clenching into his hips tightly. He can’t fathom that Sawyer wants this, to be on his knees in a dirty alley, sucking Jack off in the middle of the night like they’re engaged in some illicit affair, not when they could easily climb into Jack’s car, drive home, and make love in the warmth and comfort of their bed. But perhaps this is the appeal - the danger and the filth, the risk and the nonsensical nature of it all.
There has to be something to it, because before he knows it, he’s fucking Sawyer’s mouth, thrusting three times hard and fast and then it’s over, much more quickly than the first time. Breathing fast and heavy again, his body shaking in the aftermath, barely able to gather enough coordination to meet Sawyer’s kisses after the other man stands and finds his lips once more.
Jack can feel and see that Sawyer is ready again as well, but Sawyer zips himself back up before Jack can reach out and touch him. He looks at Sawyer and the unasked question must be in his eyes, because Sawyer answers it.
“Gotta get back to work,” he murmurs, running his thumb over Jack’s mouth, the corner of his own turning up in a crooked smile. “When we get home,” he promises, meeting Jack halfway when Jack leans to kiss him.
Jack straightens himself up but doesn’t bother to re-do his tie, leaving it hanging loose around his neck, and then follows Sawyer inside. Adam shoots them both a glare as they enter the main bar, shaking his head in dismay.
“Gone long enough,” he mutters. “You owe me big time, you mother f-“
“Yeah yeah,” Sawyer waves him off, used to him being disgruntled, especially when Jack stops by. Admittedly, he has a right to be, but Sawyer doesn’t really care. He digs into his pocket and slaps a huge wad of singles and fives into Adam’s hand. “Here, my tips for the night. Take ‘em and go get yourself a girl or somethin’.”
“Very funny,” Adam replies. He looks at Jack. “You’ve got yourself a winner here, Jack.”
“Do I ever,” Jack states, grinning and chuckling lightly. Sawyer rolls his eyes. Adam glances between them, quite able by now to sense that post-coital vibe that seems to constantly flow between the two men. He wonders if there is a night that goes by when Sawyer doesn’t get laid, but quickly tries to think of something else, not wanting to entertain the thought of Sawyer and Jack together.
“Sawyer, get out of here,” Adam gestures toward the door, feeling either more generous due to the tip share or annoyed by being the only guy in the room not getting any, but either way wanting Sawyer and Jack to leave. “I’ll close up. They’re winding down anyway.” He gestures toward the dwindling crowd and Sawyer shrugs.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Go on,” he points toward the door.
”All right…thanks, man.” Sawyer seems to think Adam might be pulling a fast one, so he backs out from behind the bar slowly. “Don’t burn the place down or nothin’ and try to pin it on me.”
“Oh, you’ve foiled my evil plan yet again.”
“Thanks, Adam. I’ll see you,” Jack nods, always more gracious and polite than Sawyer, all his edges refined where Sawyer’s are jagged and rough. On paper he thinks they’d be an odd couple, but in reality they seem to work just fine. So Adam nods in reply and Jack and Sawyer turn, heading for the door. When Adam faces the bar again, he finds a pretty redhead leaning against it, staring at the two men wistfully.
“I need a drink. A big one. Vodka. I’m so depressed.”
“And why would a pretty thing like you be feeling sad?” Adam asks, preparing her drink and sliding it to her across the counter. She points to the door, which has just closed on Jack and Sawyer’s departing figures.
“ That.. It’s so unfair. Hottest guys I’ve seen in months and they’re clearly boinking each other.”
“Life is funny like that, isn’t it?” Adam leans toward her, smiling. “I’m Adam, by the way.” He extends his hand to her and she eyes it skeptically for a moment.
“How nice for you,” she responds, then turns and walks away. Adam watches her go in utter dismay, not believing how his luck has turned since Sawyer turned up looking for a job. So unfair. Girl didn’t even pay for her drink.
“Fucking Sawyer…”
*******
Jack tosses his keys to Sawyer over the roof of the car as he walks to the passenger side door, pulling it open.
“You better drive. I’m exhausted.”
“I been drinkin’,” Sawyer responds, tossing the keys to Jack, who promptly throws them right back.
“You had half a beer. Just drive?” It’s not an order, but a plea, so Sawyer relents. He opens his door and climbs in, glancing at Jack as he sits down next to him.
“You have to be at work first thing tomorrow?” He asks. Jack shakes his head no.
“Not first thing.”
“You mean we actually get to sleep in?” Sawyer starts the car and quickly turns the channel on the radio, knowing Jack keeps it tuned public radio that could put even someone on LSD to sleep.
“Sawyer, you sleep in every day,” Jack replies.
“No, I get woke up every day at the butt crack of dawn when you get up and then spend half an hour tryin’ to get back to sleep,” Sawyer retorts, stopping on 97.7 and leaving it there, turning it up. It’s not any song he knows or likes, but it’s better than the classical arts shit Jack subjects him to. Jack doesn’t comment, used to Sawyer’s behind-the-wheel routine by now.
Sawyer adjusts the rearview mirror ever so slightly downward and then throws the car into reverse, his arm moving around the back of Jack’s seat as he twists backward to look out the back windshield. There’s not much parking lot traffic this time of night to worry about but he’s always careful when Jack’s in the car. When he’s alone it’s a different story.
“It’ll be nice to actually go to sleep and stay asleep until I really wanna get up,” Sawyer comments, heading for the parking lot exit. If they hit all the lights, they could be home in ten minutes flat.
“So I guess going for a morning run is out of the question then,” Jack says, discarding his plans for tomorrow easily. If he woke Sawyer up by getting out of bed to go running at seven a.m., he’d never hear the end of it.
“Hell yes it is,” Sawyer mutters. “I ain’t getting up early to go god damn runnin’.”
“That’s what I figured.”
”You can’t just relax for one mornin’, Doc?” Sawyer asks, though his annoyance is actually borne more from concern than from real bother. “You need to take a break. You keep up like this and you’re going to kill yourself.”
“I know,” Jack murmurs, closing his eyes and resting his head against the window. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. Sawyer looks at him as he pulls to a stop sign, hesitating there before he pulls out onto the busier street in front of them. Jack’s eyes are shut tightly, like he’s trying to force himself into sleep. Sawyer finds his hand brushing over Jack’s cheek gently, Jack’s eyes fluttering open at the contact. “What’s the matter?” Jack asks him quietly, seeing anxiety present in Sawyer’s gaze.
“Nothin’,” Sawyer mumbles, moving his fingers over Jack’s face again. Jack smiles faintly, brokenly, as Sawyer repeats the gesture, then lays the palm of his hand still against Jack’s skin, cupping his cheek.
“I’m fine, Sawyer,” Jack assures him. “Just a long day.”
“I know,” Sawyer nods almost imperceptibly, withdrawing his hand and placing it back on the steering wheel. He flicks on his directional and pulls out, still feeling Jack’s eyes on him but not turning to look, knowing Jack doesn’t believe him in the slightest. He hears Jack shift next to him as they approach the next intersection, the light red.
Suddenly Jack’s right hand is between his legs, Jack leaning over the center console as he cups Sawyer through his jeans. Sawyer inhales sharply.
“Jack, what the fuck,” He gasps, hardening immediately. He had never really calmed down after he had gotten Jack off in the alley, his cock staying half erect and ready to find the release Sawyer hadn’t been given. All it takes is one simple push of Jack’s hand against his groin and all the blood surges downward, and it’s like his erection had never faded in the slightest to begin with.
“Light’s green,” Jack nods toward the stoplight and Sawyer pushes Jack’s hand away roughly, stepping on the gas. Jack just brings his hand back right where he wants it.
“Jack, jesus. I’m drivin’.”
“I’m really fine, Sawyer,” Jack says, rubbing him gently first, then harder. “But thanks for worrying.”
“I’m worryin’ right now, Jackass,” Sawyer lets out a long breath, trying to keep his hips from bucking up toward Jack’s hand. He grinds his teeth as he attempts to focus on the road. “You’re gonna get us in a freakin’ car wreck if you’re not careful.”
“Just keep your eyes on the road, Sawyer,” Jack instructs him, pulling down Sawyer’s zipper, giving him a firm, confident stroke before taking his hand away, causing Sawyer to swear under his breath as Jack unbuckles his seat belt. He turns in his seat and bends across the front cab of the car, his mouth enveloping Sawyer’s length swiftly and easily.
“Fuck,” Sawyer exhales, his eyes shutting for just a split second and his hips arching off the seat. His grip tightens on the steering wheel and he forces his eyes wide open, shaking his head once or twice as if trying to knock himself back into control.
Jack’s mouth feels too good; wet and warm, demanding on his cock, his tongue, teeth and lips working in tandem to heighten even the tiniest shiver of sensation into something mind-blowingly erotic. Jack had never been bad at this, he had always given Sawyer exactly what he needed, but lately every time his mouth found his cock, it had been completely and utterly amazing, like Jack had suddenly stumbled across the exact right combination of mouth movements and touches to make Sawyer come harder and fiercer than ever before.
Practice makes perfect and Jack has been getting a lot of practice. A lot of practice.
He looks down at Jack’s dark head moving between his thighs, unable to actually watch his lips from this position but able to conjure up the image on his own, having experienced it enough times to know exactly what Jack’s mouth on his dick looks like. He lifts one hand from the steering wheel and places it on the back of Jack’s head, feeling Jack’s closely shorn hair as his head rises and falls underneath Sawyer’s touch. He doesn’t do this to guide him or to force him, but simply because he needs the contact, needs to touch Jack somehow in return.
Jack’s mouth slips up his cock, his tongue leaving a hot wet trail along his underside before delicately but purposefully touching his very tip, in the way that Jack knows drives Sawyer insane. Car horns blare as Sawyer abruptly swerves to the side of the road, cutting off the person in the right hand lane. He doesn’t care, thrusting the car into park halfway between two parking meters, not even close to being in a correct parking place. If Sawyer had any semblance of sense left, he would’ve been worried that cops were in the vicinity to see his little maneuver, but as it is, all he can think about is the feeling of Jack sucking him off with a determined deliberateness that gives him no choice but to come wildly inside his mouth.
His left hand grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white and he gasps for air like a man choking, unable to get enough of it into his lungs. His whole body seems to stop working for one intense brief moment, his brain focusing solely on pumping the physical evidence of his lust past Jack’s lips and down his throat. It’s over far too fast; the second Jack finishes swallowing, Sawyer wishes they could do it again immediately, that Jack would keep him inside his mouth and make him come over and over again. He’ll never tire of it, of this most intimate connection, that he knows.
The way that alcohol and drugs can make introverts become extroverts, let the anxious and nervous became carefree, allow people to say what’s really on their minds…Jack brings out everything that Sawyer was once afraid to face, breaks down his defenses if even just for a few minutes and lets him say things he’s never said to anyone before in his whole life. Lets him use words like need, want, and love without fear, gives him a safe haven in which he can be fragile and vulnerable in a way he hasn’t allowed himself to be since he was eight years old.
Jack makes him have feelings and for once Sawyer actually lets them show.
He strokes Jack’s head gently, his fingers caressing his short hair while he tries to regain his breath. Jack slowly draws his head away, lifting up and looking Sawyer straight in the eyes.
“What was that?” Sawyer asks gently, bringing a tiny, crooked smile to Jack’s lips. Sawyer brushes his thumb across Jack’s cheek, wanting to pull him in and kiss him, but wanting to hear the answer first.
Jack reverses that order, leaning in and kissing Sawyer deeply, slowly, his tongue gently moving with Sawyer’s in an intricate dance of desire. He pulls away only slightly to speak, his lips still brushing against Sawyer’s as they form the words.
“That was for worrying about me,” He whispers, kissing him again briefly, lightly. “For caring so much.”
“Quit bein’ so god damn mushy,” Sawyer murmurs back, his own chuckle met with a laugh from Jack. “You’re like a fuckin’ woman.”
“Sorry,” Jack says.
“Better be,” Sawyer replies, pushing his mouth harder against Jack’s, forcing the kiss deeper, his lips urging Jack toward a more insistent and demanding pace, quickly escalating it from loving to lustful in a matter of seconds. He reaches across the car to feel the hard bulge between Jack’s legs, but Jack pushes his hand away, pulling back. “What?”
“We need to go home,” Jack states. Sawyer reaches for him again.
“Jack, we don’t need to go home, not when I can just get you off right here. I want to get you off right here.”
“Sawyer, a BMW is not exactly built for what I want to do to you,” Jack’s words send a jolt to his cock, still laying exposed in his lap.
“And what is it that you want to do to me, exactly?” Sawyer inquires purposefully, wanting Jack to tell him down to every last detail, to let dirty and promising words fall from his lips and fill the air between them with that sweet delicious sexual tension. But all Jack says is:
“Drive.”
“Jack-“
“For god’s sake, Sawyer, just drive.”
He says it so forcefully that Sawyer decides not to quarrel over it and just do what the man says, not about to choose this moment to argue over Jack bossing him around. Truth be told, sometimes he really didn’t mind.
Sawyer pulls out into traffic and quickly exceeds the speed limit, eager to get home and find out what Jack has planned for them both.
Jack makes a small noise and Sawyer glances over, finding Jack wincing in pain and gripping tightly onto the door handle next to him. He hisses as he uses his other hand to unzip his pants and free himself awkwardly from his boxer-briefs.
“Oh fuck, Jack,” Sawyer mutters, hitting the gas harder as Jack takes himself in hand. His dick is swollen and rigid, a stream of liquid already pooling at his tip and running down his length, white against the vaguely purple tinge underneath that taut skin of his cock.
“I need to be inside you,” Jack breathes out, his voice cracking as he strokes himself just once. His entire body trembles and he closes his eyes. He stills his hand, like the very next movement he makes might set him off. “God, I just need to fuck you, Sawyer.”
“I’m gonna pull over,” Sawyer states, his own voice shaking. Jack shakes his head no adamantly and then grunts, wincing again briefly before he opens his eyes to look at Sawyer.
“Don’t…don’t…we’re almost there. Just get home, Sawyer.”
Minutes later Sawyer screeches to a halt inside the garage, immediately closing the electric door behind them.
“Out of the car, now,” he demands of Jack, throwing open his door and getting out. His still unzipped jeans cling to his hips, his erection straining upward against his stomach. Jack circles the car in the process of zipping up his pants, heading for the man door and for the house, but Sawyer meets him at the rear of the car, slamming his body against his, kissing him with passionate abandon. “Can’t wait,” Sawyer mumbles, shoving down Jack’s pants and underwear, taking them both in hand.
“No,” Jack replies.
“Here.”
“Inside.”
“Can’t make it that far. Need you now.” He strokes Jack firmly and Jack moans. Sawyer grabs Jack’s shoulders and makes an attempt to turn him around, wanting to thrust inside him, but Jack stops him, surprisingly taking change himself, turning Sawyer, bending him over the trunk of the car and spreading his legs, forcing Sawyer’s hands flat against the surface of the car’s trunk. “You arrestin’ me, officer?” Sawyer manages to quip, though frankly he’s so excited by Jack’s actions that he wonders that he still has the ability to speak, much less joke.
Jack pulls down Sawyer’s jeans and slides a finger into him in response; Sawyer bucks against the cold metal of the car, letting out a grunt of pleasure.
“Cavity search?” He teases through gritted teeth and Jack pushes against his prostate purposefully, pointedly, evidently not amused that Sawyer still has enough presence of mind to make comments like that.
“Feel free to remain silent at any time, Sawyer,” Jack taunts back, hitting that spot once again within him. Sawyer moans.
“Can’t,” he replies tightly. “Not when you’re doing that.” Jack withdraws his hand and Sawyer mutters something unintelligible. “I didn’t mean stop, Jackass, I-“ Jack’s hardness fills him, pushing into him from behind, reaching deep inside and hitting places his fingers could not. “Fuck, oh…fuck.”
“God damn, it’s been so long since I…” Jack trails off, thrusting into Sawyer hard and fast. It had somehow become their way, for Sawyer to always enter Jack; they’d both forgotten how good it felt for Jack to be buried inside, to be the one pounding and sliding, touching Sawyer in a way he’d never touched anyone else before.
“You feel so fucking good, Jack,” Sawyer gasps. “So fucking good, so fucking hard. Don’t stop…just keep…oh god damn it…yes.” Jack is rocking into him fast, causing Sawyer’s thighs and hips to connect with the car over and over again, his cock in Jack’s grasp and being stroked in time with Jack’s thrusts. Sawyer feels like every inch of him is on fire and his sweaty palms slip, leaving wet fingerprints on the shimmering black veneer of Jack’s BMW.
“I just want to…I just…” Jack doesn’t say what he wants to do, instead exploding inside of Sawyer, stilling and gripping Sawyer’s cock hard as he does. Sawyer doesn’t want to come all over Jack’s clean car, but he can’t help it. His body shudders as he ejaculates, a white sticky mess against the shiny black paint job.
He supports himself against the car as Jack remains still behind him, not drawing out but leaving himself inside. He rests his cheek against Sawyer’s shoulder blade, breathing hard and heavy.
“Sorry,” Sawyer mumbles. “About the car.”
“Just a car,” Jack lifts his head, glancing over Sawyer’s shoulder. “It’ll wash off.”
“Yeah, I know.” He lets out a small noise as Jack pulls out, hearing Jack zip himself back up. Reluctant for the encounter to actually be over, he slowly does the same, fixing his jeans before turning to face Jack.
“I think we’re officially out of control,” Jack states, brushing Sawyer’s hair from his sweaty cheek. Sawyer grins wide.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” he replies. “It’s fun to be outta control sometimes, Doc…time you realized that.”
“Yeah…I might be starting to like it,” Jack concedes with a small laugh. Sawyer lays a short but sweet kiss on Jack’s lips and then pushes him away, retrieving a rag from the shelf along the side of the garage and wiping up the mess as best he can.
“I’ll wash it tomorrow.” He crumples the rag up and sets it aside, making a mental note to throw it out later. “Clean enough for now.” Sawyer draws Jack back into his arms, noting that Jack looks thoroughly wiped out now, like their latest efforts have drained him of the energy to even stand up straight. “You look like you’re gonna fall over, Doc.”
“I might.”
”Come on,” Sawyer opens the car door and grabs the keys from where he left them in the ignition. He heads out of the garage and Jack slowly follows. “Good thing we get to sleep in tomorrow.”
*******
Sawyer is stirred from sleep by the garishly bright morning light streaming in through the window and the harsh shrill ringing of the telephone on Jack’s bedside table. He shifts slightly, trying to reach for the phone, but the twists and tangles of white sheets around his body and the weight of Jack against his side prohibit his movements.
Fumbling and almost knocking the lamp onto the floor, he manages to clumsily locate the phone and pick it up. Jack shifts against him in his sleep but doesn’t stir, so exhausted that he could probably sleep through an earthquake, much less a phone call.
“Hmmpph‘ello?” Sawyer mumbles into the phone, still drowsy and his mouth dry.
“Who is this?” The voice on the other end of the line can only be Jack’s mother; she asks the same question the every time she calls and Sawyer picks up the phone. She has made it clear that she never likes the answer.
“Who is this?” He asks back, annoyed with her.
“This is Jack’s mother.” Her tone is clipped and severe.
“Well this is Jack’s lover.” His smirk is audible; he enjoys pushing this woman’s buttons. “What can I do you for?”
“I need to speak with my son,” Margo states sharply, clearly not amused. “Is he available?”
“Hold on a sec,” Sawyer tells her. He reaches over with his free hand and rubs Jack’s arm softly, nudging him and trying to wake him. It doesn’t do any good so he snakes his hand downward, slipping beneath the sheets and stroking him firmly. Jack shifts, his eyelids fluttering. “Wake up, Doc,” Sawyer murmurs, putting the phone against his shoulder to muffle the mouthpiece.
Jack slowly opens his eyes and lets out a sleepy but aroused whimper, rolling his hips toward Sawyer’s grasp.
“That feels really good…” He mumbles.
“Well hold onto that feeling cause life’s about to suck,” Sawyer states. Jack finally opens his eyes all the way and looks at Sawyer, confused. Sawyer lifts the phone from his shoulder and holds it out for him. “Your momma’s on the phone.”
“Oh fuck,” Jack closes his eyes and brings both his hands to his face, exhaling sharply. “Great.” He pushes Sawyer’s hand away as he sits up in bed, taking the phone from Sawyer’s grasp with a frown. “Mom. Hi.”
“Sorry to wake you, Jack.” Margo doesn’t sound the slightest bit sorry; she almost sounds accusatory. Jack sighs.
“No, it’s fine,” He replies. “I needed to get up anyway.”
“It’s rather late for you, isn’t it? Did you take the day off?” Again, she sounds like she’s making an accusation, as if Jack has no right to take a day off. Ever.
“Had a late night. Going in later. What do you need?” Jack knows he sounds impatient and abrupt, but his tolerance for his mother is at an all-time low. She’d been hard enough on him when she’d found out about Kate, but the endless lectures about Sawyer are exhausting. If she had her way, Jack would be back in L.A. like a good son, trying to patch things up with Sarah like she had suggested time and time again.
“No need to be rude, Jack,” she states. Jack rolls his eyes at Sawyer and climbs up from the bed, pulling on his boxers and heading for the door. Whatever his mother is about to say now, he suspects this is a conversation that Sawyer doesn’t need to overhear.
Sawyer watches Jack leave, wishing that he had remembered to take the phone off the hook last night before bed. Now Margo Shephard and her tirades, which never fail to make Jack cranky and upset, have ruined what could’ve been a perfectly serene and pleasant morning. He’d seen some screwed up families in his time, but Jack’s parents had certainly done quite the number on him. Part of him is glad that Christian had drunk himself to death in Australia. At least Jack has one less voice demanding his complete and utter perfection at every turn and criticizing his failure to live up to their insane expectations.
He can hear Jack’s voice in the hallway but can’t make out what he’s saying. He doesn’t like how Jack always leaves the room when his mother calls, like what she’s saying has to be kept from him.
But he knows Jack is only trying to protect him and reminds himself of the times when he’s done exactly the same.
”Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Is he there?”
“He’s in the shower.” Sawyer cradles the phone against his shoulder and eyes the bedroom door furtively, listening carefully for the sound of the shower running. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to see how you are.”
”I’m fine. That what you really want to know?”
“Yes. And no…Jack…how is he? Good?”
“He’s good. We’re good.”
“Well…good.” Kate sighs. He can see her now, clutching the phone like a lifeline, maybe standing in some broken phone booth or some rundown hotel room, trying desperately to sound cheerful when all she wants to do is break down. He’s been there - he knows how it feels. “How’s the job?”
“Goin’ all right.”
“You like it?”
“Better than the bar in Boston. Better tips, usually. Though these rich pricks are sometimes cheaper than those damn college kids, I can tell you that much.”
“Sure. I bet they are. They’re rich for a reason right?” Kate laughs awkwardly. “Don’t want to part with their money.”
“Guess not.”
“And Jack? The hospital?”
“Fixed some gymnast the other day who fell off the balance beam or somethin’ or other. Said she’ll be doing back flips again in no time.”
”I bet her parents were happy.”
“Yeah…about to do back flips themselves, I think.” Sawyer lets the conversation drift off. Neither of them knows what to say, but Kate doesn’t want to hang up and he can sense it. “So why are you calling, Kate? Do you need some help?” Sawyer asks.
“No…you know…” She starts. Sawyer nods before realizing that she can’t hear a nod.
“Yeah. I know.”
“I just needed to know that he is all right. That he’s happy. That you’re making him happy.”
“Where are you?”
“Portland.”
“Oregon?”
”Maine.”
“Ah.”
“It’s pretty here.”
“What are you doing over there?”
“Hiking. Hunting. My dad’s living here now.”
“You’re staying with your dad?” Sawyer is genuinely surprised. He didn’t think Kate’s father would harbor a fugitive, supposedly dead or not.
“No. I’m not. I’m just…checking in. I’m not staying long.”
“Does he even know you’re there? In town?” Sawyer asks, knowing her penchant for checking up on people from afar, too afraid to take the risk and make contact.
“He knows.”
“Where to next?”
“I don’t know.”
“You ever gonna stay in one place?” He asks, glancing toward the door again. He can still hear the water running and figures their conversation is safe for a few more moments at least.
“I don’t think I can.” Kate sounds saddened to admit it, but they both know it’s the truth. “If I couldn’t stay for Jack…” The rest doesn’t need to be said. Silence hangs on the line again.
“You sure you don’t need anything? Money? I got money now, I can send some if ya need it.”
“I don’t need money, Sawyer,” she says, though she sounds touched by the offer. “I just needed to hear a friendly voice.” Kate pauses and it’s Sawyer’s turn to sigh, not knowing how to reply. He had been so angry with her the last time he had seen her, but now he just feels bad, knowing Kate must be missing Jack very badly to risk calling like this.
“Well I’m happy to hear from you too,” he finally responds, stumbling slightly over the words. “Was worried about ya.”
“I’m all right.”
“Good.”
“So…” The break is heavy and weighted and Sawyer knows she’s going to ask about Jack again. “So, he’s happy?”
“I think so.”
“I’m…I’m really glad, Sawyer. For you. I mean, I’m glad it’s you. With Jack.”
“Thanks.” The shower stops and Sawyer’s breath catches in his throat. “I gotta go. He’s done in the shower.”
“Okay. Can I…can I still call again sometime? Is that all right?”
“Yeah. You can call.”
“Don’t tell him.”
“I won’t.”
“Just kiss him for me. I mean, don’t say it’s from me. Just…”
“I will.”
“Thanks. Miss you, Sawyer.”
“Miss you too, Freckles.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
”Sawyer?” Kate’s voice stops him as he goes to hang up.
“What?”
“Do you…do you ever think there’ll be a time when I can see him again and not…and not hurt him? To have him in my life and not ruin everything for you or for him?”
“Like what, be friends?”
“I guess so.”
“I don’t know, Kate.” He says her name and she knows he’s being serious, thinking it through. “Maybe someday. Not now…but someday.”
“Yeah. Maybe. Thanks, Sawyer.”
“Anytime, Sweetheart.”
Sawyer clicks the off button on the phone gently as he hears the bathroom door open. Moments later Jack pushes enters their bedroom, a towel slung loosely around his waist and his body still dripping wet. He glances at Sawyer, who is sitting on the bed with the phone still in his hand.
“Someone called?” He asks off-hand as he crosses to his dresser, digging out socks and underwear.
“Wrong number,” Sawyer’s voice breaks on the words but Jack doesn’t seem to notice, having no reason to think anything is amiss. Sawyer sets the phone back on the nightstand in the charger and stands up. He walks over to Jack and stops behind him, running his hand across his lower back, his fingers brushing the soft terrycloth of the towel.
Gently he reaches up and turns Jack’s head sideways, dipping his own head over Jack’s shoulder to catch Jack’s lips with his. He tastes the mint of his toothpaste and the alcohol sting of his mouthwash, sharp and biting against his own tongue. He tastes good.
He lets his hands explore Jack’s body as he kisses him again, this time not for Kate but for himself.
“Sawyer, we have reservations at seven,” Jack chuckles as Sawyer unwraps the towel from around his waist and drops it to the floor. “We’ll be late.”
“You really think I care?” Sawyer replies. Jack shakes his head no and Sawyer grins. “Glad to see you’re catching on.”
Sawyer looks up as Jack re-enters their bedroom, hitting the off button harshly and tossing the phone onto the bed with an exasperated sigh.
“Just ‘cause you’re related doesn’t mean you have to like her, ya know,” Sawyer points out and Jack nods, rubbing the back of his head with his hand, the other on his hip.
“She wanted to come and see me.”
“What?” Sawyer asks. “You mean come here. To Toronto.”
“Yeah.”
“You told her no, right?” Sawyer hopes against hope.
“Of course I told her no,” Jack states, cranky. “But she wouldn’t let up.”
“This because of me?”
“Not…just because of you.”
“That’s reassuring.” Jack looks at him and he can immediately see something is wrong. “What?”
“I said we’d go there.”
“What? To L.A.?” Sawyer sits up, pushing himself against the headboard.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Jack sits down next to Sawyer on the bed and puts his head in his hands. “This is ridiculous. I’m almost forty years old and I can’t stand up to her.”
“You half did. At least she’s not coming here,” Sawyer says, almost helpfully. Jack shoots him a quizzical look.
“You’re not pissed?”
“So you go visit your momma. Big deal. A few days of a pain and your duty is done. I’ll be here waiting for ya when you get back.”
“Sawyer, I said we’d go.”
“Like hell I’m going,” Sawyer chuckles, thinking Jack must be joking. After a beat he realizes that he’s not. “No way.”
“She wants to meet you.”
“She’s met me over the phone. Ain’t that ‘nough to know she hates me? She gotta judge me all sanctimonious-like in person?”
“Sawyer, please. I don’t want to go there alone. I need you to come with me.”
“But I don’t wanna,” Sawyer mutters like a petulant child, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “How are you gonna get off of work anyway?”
“I’ll figure something out. I’m entitled to vacation.”
“And you’re gonna waste it on this?”
“Look. It doesn’t have to be completely terrible, you know. My best friend still lives there and you should meet him at least.”
“Marc?”
“Yeah.”
“And this Marc ain’t freaked in the slightest that you’re bonin’ a guy now.” Sawyer scoffs, disbelieving. Jack shoots him a warning look.
“Sawyer.”
“What? Better to get it all out in the open, Doc, so’s I know what I’m up against.”
“You’re not up against anything, Sawyer,” Jack shakes his head. “This isn’t a fight. There’s no one to beat, nothing to win.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. It’s me against them.” Sawyer draws his legs in toward his body, keeping the bed sheet still firmly over his body like protection from their conversation. He doesn’t need to be physically naked for this, he’s naked enough already.
“Whatever they say isn’t going to change my mind, so no, it’s not bullshit. I’m not a battleground. I’m yours.”
“Until you’re not.”
“God damn it, Sawyer,” Jack sighs, frustrated. Sawyer just frowns and doesn’t respond. Jack looks at him, wondering what precisely it will take to convince Sawyer to come along. “I have to do this, you know that, right? Whether you come with me or not.”
“So do it.”
“You’re really going to be like this?” Jack can’t keep himself from sounding stunned.
“Guess so.”
Jack stares at him for a moment, not sure how to react. He’s hurt and angry and not sure which emotion he feels more.
“Fine.” He says quietly, rising from the bed. “I’m going to work.”
“Thought you didn’t have to go in until 2.” Sawyer states and Jack just ignores him. “Jack.”
“Forget it, Sawyer,” Jack mumbles, haphazardly grabbing some clothes from his closet and then leaving the room. Sawyer’s shoulders slump as he watches the bedroom door close and hears Jack disappear into the bathroom. He knows he should go and tell Jack that he’ll go but he doesn’t. He just listens as Jack gets ready to go, then falls back into a troubled sleep as Jack leaves and the silence of the house settles around him.
Somehow, like a mother forgets the pain of childbirth and a trauma victim blocks all their horrible memories, he’d forgotten what it felt like to be alone.
Now, he remembers.
-------> THIS PART CONTINUED...