Lost fic: Chewie [Jin, Sawyer, 800 words]
Summary: Jin understands.
Chewie
by eponine119
November 6, 2021
They’re out patrolling, working the grid the way they do nearly every day. Looking for Hostiles, looking for survivors, looking for John Locke. Always looking and never finding.
Jin’s foot slips and he goes down hard. His hands come up to catch himself, but he still ends up covered in mud from head to toe. It’s too much, and his emotions finally boil over. “Fuck!” he yells, in Korean, slamming one fist into the mud in the rage that overtakes him. “Damn it! Stupid island! Stupid jungle! Stupid, pointless running around in this damn jungle every day!”
“Hey, calm down there, Chewie,” Sawyer says. “You ain’t hurt. Here.” He holds out his hand to pull Jin out of the mud and back onto his feet.
Jin takes it. He walks a few steps, onto more solid ground, feeling the disgusting wetness of the mud where his clothes touch him. It’s even inside his shoes. He turns on Sawyer. “Not Chewie!” he says. This is not the first time Sawyer has called him that, and now it’s just more fuel to the fire.
Sawyer frowns. “Right, Star Wars ain’t out yet. Gotta find some more current retro -”
“No nicknames!” Jin yells. “Sun say -”
“Hey now, my week is long since over,” Sawyer protests amiably. “Or ain’t happened yet, one of the two.”
Jin doesn’t understand all of the names that Sawyer calls him, or all the words he uses, but he understands this one. And it hurts, and he hates it.
“I understand,” Jin says, still heated and furious. He thinks that Sawyer calls him that because it’s funny, because he thinks Jin has no idea what he’s saying or what he’s referencing. Or because Sawyer does not care. Jin knows Sawyer is a good man, somewhere, underneath, just as he himself was a good man who was doing awful things.
“Not thing!” Jin says, throwing his hand up to indicate Chewbacca’s height. “Not monster!”
“All right,” Sawyer says, with one hand out and a placating tone.
“Not… spaceship pet dog sidekick thing!” Jin insists, trying to make Sawyer understand, and it is frustrating. He smacks a hand against his chest. “Person. Man.”
“I know,” Sawyer replies, sounding exasperated. “Look, I ain’t callin’ you Chewie cause I got you mixed up with a walking carpet -”
“I know,” Jin replies, glaring. His heart still thunders in his ears with anger. “Because no talk.”
Sawyer glares and Jin knows that he is right. “Chewbacca was Han Solo’s best friend,” he points out. “The one guy in the whole universe he could count on. Who cares if the Wookiee didn’t get a medal at the end of the show, they knew the score.”
Jin is surprised by this, and not just because Sawyer’s words seem heartfelt. “Chewie friend,” Jin says, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
“Yeah,” Sawyer says. “Chewie friend.” He doesn’t look at Jin as he says it. His eyes are downcast. He sighs again, then looks at Jin, still not quite meeting his eyes. “We oughta get back, get you cleaned up.”
Jin doesn’t move. He looks back at Sawyer. He raises his hand, then points with one finger. “No more,” he orders, and he knows by Sawyer’s guilty look that Sawyer knows exactly what he is saying.
“Yeah, okay,” Sawyer says, and there’s a long pause. “Jin,” he adds, like he’s trying it out.
Jin nods. Then he plants his hand on Sawyer’s chest and gives him a little push. Sawyer stumbles backward, his feet tangling as they lose purchase in the slippery mud. He goes down hard, the lower half of his uniform instantly covered in the thick, brown goo. It splashes up and sprays his face and hair.
Sawyer sputters for a moment, flinging back his head like a dog trying to shake off water. “Fine,” he says, angrily. “You feel better now?”
“Yeah,” Jin agrees, holding out one of his muddy hands to Sawyer, for him to grab and help him up. Sawyer looks at it for a moment, then moves his head like he is swallowing his pride. Then he takes Jin’s hand. It’s hot and rough against Jin’s skin. They stand there a moment, face to face, tension simmering.
Then Sawyer laughs. He puts his head back and laughs, a rusty, awkward sound like he’s a man who’s forgotten how. A grin spreads across his face. “You got me,” he says.
“I got you,” Jin agrees.
They look at each other for another long moment. Then Sawyer nods his acceptance, of all of this. The two men turn back toward the Dharma houses, so they can get cleaned up, without a word of discussion passing between them. They don’t need it; they understand each other.
(end)
Chewie
by eponine119
November 6, 2021
They’re out patrolling, working the grid the way they do nearly every day. Looking for Hostiles, looking for survivors, looking for John Locke. Always looking and never finding.
Jin’s foot slips and he goes down hard. His hands come up to catch himself, but he still ends up covered in mud from head to toe. It’s too much, and his emotions finally boil over. “Fuck!” he yells, in Korean, slamming one fist into the mud in the rage that overtakes him. “Damn it! Stupid island! Stupid jungle! Stupid, pointless running around in this damn jungle every day!”
“Hey, calm down there, Chewie,” Sawyer says. “You ain’t hurt. Here.” He holds out his hand to pull Jin out of the mud and back onto his feet.
Jin takes it. He walks a few steps, onto more solid ground, feeling the disgusting wetness of the mud where his clothes touch him. It’s even inside his shoes. He turns on Sawyer. “Not Chewie!” he says. This is not the first time Sawyer has called him that, and now it’s just more fuel to the fire.
Sawyer frowns. “Right, Star Wars ain’t out yet. Gotta find some more current retro -”
“No nicknames!” Jin yells. “Sun say -”
“Hey now, my week is long since over,” Sawyer protests amiably. “Or ain’t happened yet, one of the two.”
Jin doesn’t understand all of the names that Sawyer calls him, or all the words he uses, but he understands this one. And it hurts, and he hates it.
“I understand,” Jin says, still heated and furious. He thinks that Sawyer calls him that because it’s funny, because he thinks Jin has no idea what he’s saying or what he’s referencing. Or because Sawyer does not care. Jin knows Sawyer is a good man, somewhere, underneath, just as he himself was a good man who was doing awful things.
“Not thing!” Jin says, throwing his hand up to indicate Chewbacca’s height. “Not monster!”
“All right,” Sawyer says, with one hand out and a placating tone.
“Not… spaceship pet dog sidekick thing!” Jin insists, trying to make Sawyer understand, and it is frustrating. He smacks a hand against his chest. “Person. Man.”
“I know,” Sawyer replies, sounding exasperated. “Look, I ain’t callin’ you Chewie cause I got you mixed up with a walking carpet -”
“I know,” Jin replies, glaring. His heart still thunders in his ears with anger. “Because no talk.”
Sawyer glares and Jin knows that he is right. “Chewbacca was Han Solo’s best friend,” he points out. “The one guy in the whole universe he could count on. Who cares if the Wookiee didn’t get a medal at the end of the show, they knew the score.”
Jin is surprised by this, and not just because Sawyer’s words seem heartfelt. “Chewie friend,” Jin says, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
“Yeah,” Sawyer says. “Chewie friend.” He doesn’t look at Jin as he says it. His eyes are downcast. He sighs again, then looks at Jin, still not quite meeting his eyes. “We oughta get back, get you cleaned up.”
Jin doesn’t move. He looks back at Sawyer. He raises his hand, then points with one finger. “No more,” he orders, and he knows by Sawyer’s guilty look that Sawyer knows exactly what he is saying.
“Yeah, okay,” Sawyer says, and there’s a long pause. “Jin,” he adds, like he’s trying it out.
Jin nods. Then he plants his hand on Sawyer’s chest and gives him a little push. Sawyer stumbles backward, his feet tangling as they lose purchase in the slippery mud. He goes down hard, the lower half of his uniform instantly covered in the thick, brown goo. It splashes up and sprays his face and hair.
Sawyer sputters for a moment, flinging back his head like a dog trying to shake off water. “Fine,” he says, angrily. “You feel better now?”
“Yeah,” Jin agrees, holding out one of his muddy hands to Sawyer, for him to grab and help him up. Sawyer looks at it for a moment, then moves his head like he is swallowing his pride. Then he takes Jin’s hand. It’s hot and rough against Jin’s skin. They stand there a moment, face to face, tension simmering.
Then Sawyer laughs. He puts his head back and laughs, a rusty, awkward sound like he’s a man who’s forgotten how. A grin spreads across his face. “You got me,” he says.
“I got you,” Jin agrees.
They look at each other for another long moment. Then Sawyer nods his acceptance, of all of this. The two men turn back toward the Dharma houses, so they can get cleaned up, without a word of discussion passing between them. They don’t need it; they understand each other.
(end)