All That's Left Behind [2/3] - Lost - Sawyer/Kevin
Title: All That's Left Behind [2/3]
Pairing: Sawyer/Kevin (Sawyer/Kate, Kevin/Kate, Jack/Kate)
Word Count: 3000
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written with writing_rainbow's "Thumb" prompt. AU - the Oceanic Six here are not the Oceanic Six of the show.
Previously: Part One
Summary: Kevin really should know better than to pick up strange hitchhikers in the rain.
If he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time Kevin thinks he'll go mad. The clock's telling him it's ten to seven. He got ready too early, already pacing the floor and finding mindless tasks to occupy himself as he waits. Sawyer probably won't even turn up, he tells himself.
Another glance at the mirror - he's convinced there's gonna be something wrong, that he'll open the door and Sawyer will laugh in his face, and he isn't quite sure why that bugs him so much - leaves him twitching nervously. He looks fine. 'course he looks fine. Wouldn't matter even if he didn't. Not like this is… Like this is something-
God, he doesn't even know what this is. Doesn't have a damn clue.
Just talking, Sawyer had said. Just talking like they'd done here during the storm, so he shouldn't have been nervous. Not at all. Shouldn't have been nervous, yet he couldn't help remembering the way Sawyer had smiled and winked at him earlier today. A thing like that could unsettle anyone and leave their mind wandering to fairly impure places. Kevin clears his throat and runs his hands down the front of his shirt, convinced that he can already see creases spontaneously appearing.
As time ticks by he reminds himself of Sawyer's police record and tells himself to be on guard. He doesn't know exactly what it is that Sawyer wants from him, but he doubts it's just a friendly conversation and some anecdotes about the woman that conned him. There's got to be an agenda here, a hidden plan that Kevin isn't a part of. Makes him nervous - but, god help him, it makes him excited too.
When the doorbell rings he's heading for the door faster than he should, able to feel his heart pumping the way it usually does when he's chasing someone down: answering a door shouldn't give him the same buzz he gets from arresting a criminal. It's been a weird couple of days.
He opens the door and Sawyer's standing there, white shirt and tanned skin and arrogant grin. "I'm not late, am I?" he says before Kevin can find the breath to say 'hello'.
He glances at the clock. "You're right on time."
"You ready to go then?" The air between them feels a little bit tenser than it should. Despite easy smiles and attentive eyes, everything's still not right between them. Sawyer watches him like he's scared Kevin might bolt at any second.
He doesn't bolt, grabbing his keys from the plate by the door and closing it behind him as he steps outside. When Sawyer walks with him to a red car, Kevin doesn't fight the smile on his face. "So you were really waiting for me?" he asks. "A few days back, when it was raining. You didn't need to be hitchhiking."
"Nope."
"And if I hadn't stopped, you would've been stuck out in the rain like that."
"Yep."
"Right." Kevin nods. "You realise you're about half-way to being mad, right?"
"Only half-way? I'll have to start trying harder," Sawyer says, the bitter sting of sarcasm before he turns serious. "I knew you wouldn't give me the time of day if I came into your work or showed up on your doorstep asking questions about Kate. Figured that…" He looks uncomfortable as they get into the car. "Figured playing on that supposed kindness was my best bet."
Kevin nods once, slowly.
"And it worked, but I guess-" Sawyer pauses to stare at the key in the ignition. Kevin gets the impression he isn't too used to handing out apologies. "Maybe I could've figured out a better way to do it."
True enough, but Kevin leans back in his chair as Sawyer drives and doesn't push the subject. He'll be more careful in the future. Living in a world where he double-guesses everyone's motives sounds dark and black, but his experience tells him that there is little other choice.
The trip into town passes fluidly, smiles and laughter trickling through the car. The butterflies in Kevin's stomach don't fade but they change - he's nervous in a completely different way by the time they make it into town. "I've got to say," Sawyer grumbles as he finds a parking spot, "it's pretty slim pickings in this town to find someplace to eat."
"I like it," Kevin protests. "It's… nice. Hospitable."
"Hospitable." Sawyer smiles and glances towards him. There's something in his gaze that feels too heavy on him. In just a split-second Kevin is all too aware of his breathing and wants to run a hand over his hair to make sure it isn't doing that weird thing at the back. "You're not at all how I thought you'd be, Starsky."
Before Kevin can try to question that Sawyer's gone, opening his door and stepping out into the night. Following him Kevin realises where they are - parked outside a greased up diner. It's hardly the fanciest cuisine they could go for, but he's happy to follow Sawyer inside and happier still to wave at the owners behind the counter. "This town really is tiny," Sawyer murmurs to him when they take a seat in one of the booths that line the walls.
"That's the way I like it," Kevin says, staring intently at the menu so that he doesn't have to pay attention to the way Sawyer is watching him, studying him. He feels like some kind of exotic animal, even if he's not the one that survived on a tropical island for months on end. He should be the normal one here.
The atmosphere's nice, even if there's a crowd of teenagers gossiping loudly at one of the other tables. When the conversation slackens Kevin finds himself accidentally listening into their conversations: it's like a whole foreign language. Maybe not the words themselves but the subject matter. It's hard to believe he was ever like that as a kid - when he mentions that to Sawyer the man's smile grows devilishly bright. Probably already had Kevin down as the typical straight-laced teenager. Probably would've been right too.
It's easy enough to talk in this casual setting, especially once there are a couple of empty beer bottles left on the table top. Sawyer seems like a likable enough guy, though he seems to have a limitless supply of names from cop shows to use instead of 'Kevin'. He doesn't feel Kate hanging in the air, doesn't see her in Sawyer's eyes, doesn't have to think about her at all until Sawyer's words falter when he mentions one of the other survivors, the rescue.
"Claire, she used to…" Sawyer's voice dies. He turns the glass bottle in his hands, around and around. Picks at the corner of the label and closes himself off for the first time since they sat down.
"Claire," Kevin says quietly. He feels like he's stepping through shattered glass. One wrong move and he's in for a world of pain. "Claire Littleton. She got rescued with you, didn't she?"
"Yeah. Haven't seen her lately."
"What about the others?"
"None of us a lot of each other these days. I check in when I can." Checks in but doesn't see them, Kevin reckons. That probably means he does a quick search on the internet or he drives past where they live just to make sure they're all doing okay. They're not. From what little Kevin hears, he knows they're not.
He shouldn't ask. It's an open wound and he should know better than to prod at it, but-"What happened, Sawyer? On the island, what…"
"Some of us got rescued," Sawyer explains. He still doesn't look up. "Some of us didn't. That's all there is to it."
"Bullshit." Kevin pauses to drink the last dregs from his bottle. It's near closing time now. At the counter the waitresses are wiping down the surfaces and the kitchen stopped taking orders half an hour ago. "There's more to it than that."
"'course there is. That don't mean I gotta tell you about it. I hardly know you."
"You're the one that wanted to talk. I'm here. Talk."
"Not about this." Sawyer shakes his head stubbornly, a child on the brink of a tantrum. He breathes through his nose, heavy and awkward. Feels like they're at a crossroads, like the storm is finished brewing and it's about to strike. "You knew Kate. Just wanted to…"
"I didn't know Kate," Kevin says, sounding softer than he feels about this topic. "It was a sham. I didn't even know her name."
"She knew yours." Sawyer's head stays bowed. "Knew you - I think she really did love you."
"She drugged me."
"She drugged Jack too." Sawyer snorts, empty air. "Seems to be a thing for her. You're definitely her type."
He can't listen to this. Sawyer's had a little too much to drink, enough to loosen his tongue, but even that can't be blamed. No blame to shove at him anyway. Kevin just can't stand to listen to shards of his dead past coming back to haunt him. Can't do it. Won't wallow. He's done with this.
"I'd best get going," he says. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the cash to pay for his own food, ignoring Sawyer's protests. He doesn't have a car out here. It's dark and it'll probably take him a good while to walk home. Aren't any buses running this late. If he's lucky he might run into someone he knows to give him a lift. If he's not… Well, he could do with the exercise. "It's been nice getting to meet you, Sawyer."
He gets to his feet but before he takes more than a step towards the door Sawyer's hand is tight around his wrist. "Don't leave," Sawyer says - sounds like a plea, like an order, like a thousand things at once. The charm and confidence is worn away and this is what is left. Something uncivilised. Something that allowed him and the others to live on that island for months. Something desperate.
Kevin can feel his heart pounding hard and knows that Sawyer must be able to feel the beat of his pulse in his wrist. You're a trained police officer, he reminds himself, but that doesn't feel like enough right now. The staff in the diner are watching them while pretending they're not. Isn't often that someone grabs a police officer like that. Not in this town. Not with that look in their eye.
"I want you to let go of me," he says. His voice sounds calmer than he feels. "Right now, Sawyer. I'm only gonna ask you that once."
He doesn't know what the threat is, what he'll follow it up with, but he never has to find out. For a loaded second Sawyer hangs on and looks up at him from where he's still sitting. His hair drapes messily by his face and in his eyes there is more than a hint of desperation. The island has left its survivors damaged - Kevin can't deal with that, wouldn't know how to. If Sawyer's looking for someone to fix him then he sure as hell is looking in the wrong place.
Kevin meets his gaze, sure and steady, and it's then that Sawyer's grip relaxes. "Sorry," he mutters, recoiling slowly. He grasps his empty beer bottle again and clings onto it.
"No problem," Kevin says. He almost sounds cheerful. "Like I said, been a pleasure to meet you. Guess I'll see you around."
Guesses he will. Hopes he won't.
He offers a half-wave to the owners as he leaves the diner and plunges into the night, walking so quickly that he nearly falls over his own feet. He just needs out of there. Shoulders hunched and head bowed, he begins the long walk home.
*
It's long after midnight when he hears a heavy thud. His eyes dart open in the dark of his bedroom and he lies frozen for long moments as he waits to see if it will happen again. His sleep-drowned mind struggles to work out what the hell it was that woke him. Another thud - knocking at the door. His heart sinks.
With a tired groan he throws the covers back from the bed then fumbles in the dark to find some trousers to pull on over his underwear, a loose t-shirt as well. His eyes find the digital clock in the dark: it's past three a.m. now. Usually he'd say it must've been an emergency if someone was here at this time, but this entire week hasn't been like 'his usual' at all. Without having to answer the door he can already tell who's going to be there.
He turns the hallway lights on and rubs at his eyes, attempting to wake himself up a little more. He doesn't know how to deal with this - with Sawyer - any more. Never did, not really. He only knows that he no longer wants to have to try. There's another thud at the door, heavier this time, and Kevin pauses on the other side with his hand on the handle. Takes a breath, mentally calls himself an idiot, then pulls it open.
Sawyer leans one-sided against the wall outside, clinging onto another beer bottle like he needs it to survive. His jaw is set and he breathes through his nose, staring at Kevin for a few long moments before he says anything. "I need a," he says, "a place to stay. For the night. Just…"
"Did you drive out here?" Kevin asks, spotting the red car outside his house. Sawyer looks as if he might fall over if he was standing without the aid of Kevin's wall. Sawyer quirks a smile, raises a finger to his mouth and hushes him. Shit, Kevin thinks, images of potential car crashes beating through his mind. He reaches out for Sawyer, hand on his arm, and helps him over the threshold.
Sawyer's weight is heavy as he happily leans against Kevin, making little attempt at supporting himself and instead choosing to pay attention to their sudden proximity. Kevin feels warm breath against his neck and hears the low-down rumble from Sawyer's throat: at any other time he might've called it a purr.
"You can sleep on the couch," he says, helping Sawyer through to the living room. "I want you gone in the morning, you know that."
"I do," Sawyer confirms, but he doesn't appear to be paying much attention to what's being said. Instead he's… There's- Those are his lips by Kevin's earlobe, the flash of teeth, and despite the way his stomach goes topsy-turvy Kevin is glad to dump him on the sofa when they reach it. Sawyer lands laughing, flicks his tongue over his lips, and leaves Kevin with the distinct impression that he isn't nearly as drunk as he's pretending to be.
He wriggles his feet, toeing uselessly at the side of his boots as he struggles to get them off. "Is this a normal thing for you?" Kevin asks as he kneels down to set his fingers to Sawyer's laces. "Collapsing drunk on stranger's couches?"
"You ain't no stranger," Sawyer protests, letting Kevin remove his shoes as he wriggles down against the cushions of the couch. Kevin dumps the boots on the floor with a sigh. "Took you out for dinner, remember? I know you."
Kevin looks up from where he's kneeling to find Sawyer watching him with more attentiveness then he should have been able to summon right now. Frozen on the spot he knows he should look away pretty soon but it's hard to hold onto any pretence of good sense right now. It's damn near impossible when Sawyer reaches out for him and trails his fingertips by his jaw. His fingers feel frozen from being outside, ice-cold teardrops on Kevin's skin.
"I am sorry," Sawyer murmurs. Kevin's not one hundred percent sure what it is he's apologising for but he's willing to accept it. Willing to accept just about anything right now.
It's when those cold fingers make a clean sweep up from his jaw line to his lips that Kevin finally jerks back, regaining his long lost senses. His bottom lip tingles like it's been punched but he scrambles to his feet again. "I should get you a blanket," he says decisively.
Sawyer's still watching him, a knowing look in his alcohol-laden eyes. There's something there, something that's strengthening whatever buried feelings they might've had for each other. Kevin shivers and takes a step away - doesn't admit to himself that maybe, just maybe, fleeing the room isn't his best option in this case. Since everything that happened with Monica, running away from that kinda emotion's started to be his first reaction at all times.
He finds a spare blanket tucked away in a cupboard in his bedroom and wastes time neatly folding it, keeping his hands busy, keeping his mind blank. He folds it in half, in half again, and smoothes down the creases with his hands before he begins to walk back to the living room. No point in avoiding Sawyer but he can't help but want to. He wishes he could cordon off the living room with yellow police tape and never step in there again.
The sound of subtle snoring greets him when he enters and that's such a damn relief. Sawyer's head lies on the armrest of the couch and his bottle has been abandoned on the coffee table. Kevin stays in the doorway for a few moments, watching him sleeping. It's the rare occasion to watch a tiger at rest: he knows he should be scared, knows he should be running, but he's rooted to the spot and there isn't nowhere else he'd rather be but here. He's gone mad, hasn't he?
He needs to rid his mind of all these kind of thoughts, he tells himself as he walks forward and unfolds the blanket he was carrying. This time tomorrow he's hoping Sawyer will be out of town, a distant blot on the horizon, a faded photograph in his mind. He drapes the blanket over those sleeping shoulders and stays there for a moment. Pushes a blond sheet of hair back from the man's face.
Like it or not, Kevin's got to admit one thing: he's maybe gonna miss him when he's gone.
Part Three
Pairing: Sawyer/Kevin (Sawyer/Kate, Kevin/Kate, Jack/Kate)
Word Count: 3000
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written with writing_rainbow's "Thumb" prompt. AU - the Oceanic Six here are not the Oceanic Six of the show.
Previously: Part One
Summary: Kevin really should know better than to pick up strange hitchhikers in the rain.
If he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time Kevin thinks he'll go mad. The clock's telling him it's ten to seven. He got ready too early, already pacing the floor and finding mindless tasks to occupy himself as he waits. Sawyer probably won't even turn up, he tells himself.
Another glance at the mirror - he's convinced there's gonna be something wrong, that he'll open the door and Sawyer will laugh in his face, and he isn't quite sure why that bugs him so much - leaves him twitching nervously. He looks fine. 'course he looks fine. Wouldn't matter even if he didn't. Not like this is… Like this is something-
God, he doesn't even know what this is. Doesn't have a damn clue.
Just talking, Sawyer had said. Just talking like they'd done here during the storm, so he shouldn't have been nervous. Not at all. Shouldn't have been nervous, yet he couldn't help remembering the way Sawyer had smiled and winked at him earlier today. A thing like that could unsettle anyone and leave their mind wandering to fairly impure places. Kevin clears his throat and runs his hands down the front of his shirt, convinced that he can already see creases spontaneously appearing.
As time ticks by he reminds himself of Sawyer's police record and tells himself to be on guard. He doesn't know exactly what it is that Sawyer wants from him, but he doubts it's just a friendly conversation and some anecdotes about the woman that conned him. There's got to be an agenda here, a hidden plan that Kevin isn't a part of. Makes him nervous - but, god help him, it makes him excited too.
When the doorbell rings he's heading for the door faster than he should, able to feel his heart pumping the way it usually does when he's chasing someone down: answering a door shouldn't give him the same buzz he gets from arresting a criminal. It's been a weird couple of days.
He opens the door and Sawyer's standing there, white shirt and tanned skin and arrogant grin. "I'm not late, am I?" he says before Kevin can find the breath to say 'hello'.
He glances at the clock. "You're right on time."
"You ready to go then?" The air between them feels a little bit tenser than it should. Despite easy smiles and attentive eyes, everything's still not right between them. Sawyer watches him like he's scared Kevin might bolt at any second.
He doesn't bolt, grabbing his keys from the plate by the door and closing it behind him as he steps outside. When Sawyer walks with him to a red car, Kevin doesn't fight the smile on his face. "So you were really waiting for me?" he asks. "A few days back, when it was raining. You didn't need to be hitchhiking."
"Nope."
"And if I hadn't stopped, you would've been stuck out in the rain like that."
"Yep."
"Right." Kevin nods. "You realise you're about half-way to being mad, right?"
"Only half-way? I'll have to start trying harder," Sawyer says, the bitter sting of sarcasm before he turns serious. "I knew you wouldn't give me the time of day if I came into your work or showed up on your doorstep asking questions about Kate. Figured that…" He looks uncomfortable as they get into the car. "Figured playing on that supposed kindness was my best bet."
Kevin nods once, slowly.
"And it worked, but I guess-" Sawyer pauses to stare at the key in the ignition. Kevin gets the impression he isn't too used to handing out apologies. "Maybe I could've figured out a better way to do it."
True enough, but Kevin leans back in his chair as Sawyer drives and doesn't push the subject. He'll be more careful in the future. Living in a world where he double-guesses everyone's motives sounds dark and black, but his experience tells him that there is little other choice.
The trip into town passes fluidly, smiles and laughter trickling through the car. The butterflies in Kevin's stomach don't fade but they change - he's nervous in a completely different way by the time they make it into town. "I've got to say," Sawyer grumbles as he finds a parking spot, "it's pretty slim pickings in this town to find someplace to eat."
"I like it," Kevin protests. "It's… nice. Hospitable."
"Hospitable." Sawyer smiles and glances towards him. There's something in his gaze that feels too heavy on him. In just a split-second Kevin is all too aware of his breathing and wants to run a hand over his hair to make sure it isn't doing that weird thing at the back. "You're not at all how I thought you'd be, Starsky."
Before Kevin can try to question that Sawyer's gone, opening his door and stepping out into the night. Following him Kevin realises where they are - parked outside a greased up diner. It's hardly the fanciest cuisine they could go for, but he's happy to follow Sawyer inside and happier still to wave at the owners behind the counter. "This town really is tiny," Sawyer murmurs to him when they take a seat in one of the booths that line the walls.
"That's the way I like it," Kevin says, staring intently at the menu so that he doesn't have to pay attention to the way Sawyer is watching him, studying him. He feels like some kind of exotic animal, even if he's not the one that survived on a tropical island for months on end. He should be the normal one here.
The atmosphere's nice, even if there's a crowd of teenagers gossiping loudly at one of the other tables. When the conversation slackens Kevin finds himself accidentally listening into their conversations: it's like a whole foreign language. Maybe not the words themselves but the subject matter. It's hard to believe he was ever like that as a kid - when he mentions that to Sawyer the man's smile grows devilishly bright. Probably already had Kevin down as the typical straight-laced teenager. Probably would've been right too.
It's easy enough to talk in this casual setting, especially once there are a couple of empty beer bottles left on the table top. Sawyer seems like a likable enough guy, though he seems to have a limitless supply of names from cop shows to use instead of 'Kevin'. He doesn't feel Kate hanging in the air, doesn't see her in Sawyer's eyes, doesn't have to think about her at all until Sawyer's words falter when he mentions one of the other survivors, the rescue.
"Claire, she used to…" Sawyer's voice dies. He turns the glass bottle in his hands, around and around. Picks at the corner of the label and closes himself off for the first time since they sat down.
"Claire," Kevin says quietly. He feels like he's stepping through shattered glass. One wrong move and he's in for a world of pain. "Claire Littleton. She got rescued with you, didn't she?"
"Yeah. Haven't seen her lately."
"What about the others?"
"None of us a lot of each other these days. I check in when I can." Checks in but doesn't see them, Kevin reckons. That probably means he does a quick search on the internet or he drives past where they live just to make sure they're all doing okay. They're not. From what little Kevin hears, he knows they're not.
He shouldn't ask. It's an open wound and he should know better than to prod at it, but-"What happened, Sawyer? On the island, what…"
"Some of us got rescued," Sawyer explains. He still doesn't look up. "Some of us didn't. That's all there is to it."
"Bullshit." Kevin pauses to drink the last dregs from his bottle. It's near closing time now. At the counter the waitresses are wiping down the surfaces and the kitchen stopped taking orders half an hour ago. "There's more to it than that."
"'course there is. That don't mean I gotta tell you about it. I hardly know you."
"You're the one that wanted to talk. I'm here. Talk."
"Not about this." Sawyer shakes his head stubbornly, a child on the brink of a tantrum. He breathes through his nose, heavy and awkward. Feels like they're at a crossroads, like the storm is finished brewing and it's about to strike. "You knew Kate. Just wanted to…"
"I didn't know Kate," Kevin says, sounding softer than he feels about this topic. "It was a sham. I didn't even know her name."
"She knew yours." Sawyer's head stays bowed. "Knew you - I think she really did love you."
"She drugged me."
"She drugged Jack too." Sawyer snorts, empty air. "Seems to be a thing for her. You're definitely her type."
He can't listen to this. Sawyer's had a little too much to drink, enough to loosen his tongue, but even that can't be blamed. No blame to shove at him anyway. Kevin just can't stand to listen to shards of his dead past coming back to haunt him. Can't do it. Won't wallow. He's done with this.
"I'd best get going," he says. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the cash to pay for his own food, ignoring Sawyer's protests. He doesn't have a car out here. It's dark and it'll probably take him a good while to walk home. Aren't any buses running this late. If he's lucky he might run into someone he knows to give him a lift. If he's not… Well, he could do with the exercise. "It's been nice getting to meet you, Sawyer."
He gets to his feet but before he takes more than a step towards the door Sawyer's hand is tight around his wrist. "Don't leave," Sawyer says - sounds like a plea, like an order, like a thousand things at once. The charm and confidence is worn away and this is what is left. Something uncivilised. Something that allowed him and the others to live on that island for months. Something desperate.
Kevin can feel his heart pounding hard and knows that Sawyer must be able to feel the beat of his pulse in his wrist. You're a trained police officer, he reminds himself, but that doesn't feel like enough right now. The staff in the diner are watching them while pretending they're not. Isn't often that someone grabs a police officer like that. Not in this town. Not with that look in their eye.
"I want you to let go of me," he says. His voice sounds calmer than he feels. "Right now, Sawyer. I'm only gonna ask you that once."
He doesn't know what the threat is, what he'll follow it up with, but he never has to find out. For a loaded second Sawyer hangs on and looks up at him from where he's still sitting. His hair drapes messily by his face and in his eyes there is more than a hint of desperation. The island has left its survivors damaged - Kevin can't deal with that, wouldn't know how to. If Sawyer's looking for someone to fix him then he sure as hell is looking in the wrong place.
Kevin meets his gaze, sure and steady, and it's then that Sawyer's grip relaxes. "Sorry," he mutters, recoiling slowly. He grasps his empty beer bottle again and clings onto it.
"No problem," Kevin says. He almost sounds cheerful. "Like I said, been a pleasure to meet you. Guess I'll see you around."
Guesses he will. Hopes he won't.
He offers a half-wave to the owners as he leaves the diner and plunges into the night, walking so quickly that he nearly falls over his own feet. He just needs out of there. Shoulders hunched and head bowed, he begins the long walk home.
*
It's long after midnight when he hears a heavy thud. His eyes dart open in the dark of his bedroom and he lies frozen for long moments as he waits to see if it will happen again. His sleep-drowned mind struggles to work out what the hell it was that woke him. Another thud - knocking at the door. His heart sinks.
With a tired groan he throws the covers back from the bed then fumbles in the dark to find some trousers to pull on over his underwear, a loose t-shirt as well. His eyes find the digital clock in the dark: it's past three a.m. now. Usually he'd say it must've been an emergency if someone was here at this time, but this entire week hasn't been like 'his usual' at all. Without having to answer the door he can already tell who's going to be there.
He turns the hallway lights on and rubs at his eyes, attempting to wake himself up a little more. He doesn't know how to deal with this - with Sawyer - any more. Never did, not really. He only knows that he no longer wants to have to try. There's another thud at the door, heavier this time, and Kevin pauses on the other side with his hand on the handle. Takes a breath, mentally calls himself an idiot, then pulls it open.
Sawyer leans one-sided against the wall outside, clinging onto another beer bottle like he needs it to survive. His jaw is set and he breathes through his nose, staring at Kevin for a few long moments before he says anything. "I need a," he says, "a place to stay. For the night. Just…"
"Did you drive out here?" Kevin asks, spotting the red car outside his house. Sawyer looks as if he might fall over if he was standing without the aid of Kevin's wall. Sawyer quirks a smile, raises a finger to his mouth and hushes him. Shit, Kevin thinks, images of potential car crashes beating through his mind. He reaches out for Sawyer, hand on his arm, and helps him over the threshold.
Sawyer's weight is heavy as he happily leans against Kevin, making little attempt at supporting himself and instead choosing to pay attention to their sudden proximity. Kevin feels warm breath against his neck and hears the low-down rumble from Sawyer's throat: at any other time he might've called it a purr.
"You can sleep on the couch," he says, helping Sawyer through to the living room. "I want you gone in the morning, you know that."
"I do," Sawyer confirms, but he doesn't appear to be paying much attention to what's being said. Instead he's… There's- Those are his lips by Kevin's earlobe, the flash of teeth, and despite the way his stomach goes topsy-turvy Kevin is glad to dump him on the sofa when they reach it. Sawyer lands laughing, flicks his tongue over his lips, and leaves Kevin with the distinct impression that he isn't nearly as drunk as he's pretending to be.
He wriggles his feet, toeing uselessly at the side of his boots as he struggles to get them off. "Is this a normal thing for you?" Kevin asks as he kneels down to set his fingers to Sawyer's laces. "Collapsing drunk on stranger's couches?"
"You ain't no stranger," Sawyer protests, letting Kevin remove his shoes as he wriggles down against the cushions of the couch. Kevin dumps the boots on the floor with a sigh. "Took you out for dinner, remember? I know you."
Kevin looks up from where he's kneeling to find Sawyer watching him with more attentiveness then he should have been able to summon right now. Frozen on the spot he knows he should look away pretty soon but it's hard to hold onto any pretence of good sense right now. It's damn near impossible when Sawyer reaches out for him and trails his fingertips by his jaw. His fingers feel frozen from being outside, ice-cold teardrops on Kevin's skin.
"I am sorry," Sawyer murmurs. Kevin's not one hundred percent sure what it is he's apologising for but he's willing to accept it. Willing to accept just about anything right now.
It's when those cold fingers make a clean sweep up from his jaw line to his lips that Kevin finally jerks back, regaining his long lost senses. His bottom lip tingles like it's been punched but he scrambles to his feet again. "I should get you a blanket," he says decisively.
Sawyer's still watching him, a knowing look in his alcohol-laden eyes. There's something there, something that's strengthening whatever buried feelings they might've had for each other. Kevin shivers and takes a step away - doesn't admit to himself that maybe, just maybe, fleeing the room isn't his best option in this case. Since everything that happened with Monica, running away from that kinda emotion's started to be his first reaction at all times.
He finds a spare blanket tucked away in a cupboard in his bedroom and wastes time neatly folding it, keeping his hands busy, keeping his mind blank. He folds it in half, in half again, and smoothes down the creases with his hands before he begins to walk back to the living room. No point in avoiding Sawyer but he can't help but want to. He wishes he could cordon off the living room with yellow police tape and never step in there again.
The sound of subtle snoring greets him when he enters and that's such a damn relief. Sawyer's head lies on the armrest of the couch and his bottle has been abandoned on the coffee table. Kevin stays in the doorway for a few moments, watching him sleeping. It's the rare occasion to watch a tiger at rest: he knows he should be scared, knows he should be running, but he's rooted to the spot and there isn't nowhere else he'd rather be but here. He's gone mad, hasn't he?
He needs to rid his mind of all these kind of thoughts, he tells himself as he walks forward and unfolds the blanket he was carrying. This time tomorrow he's hoping Sawyer will be out of town, a distant blot on the horizon, a faded photograph in his mind. He drapes the blanket over those sleeping shoulders and stays there for a moment. Pushes a blond sheet of hair back from the man's face.
Like it or not, Kevin's got to admit one thing: he's maybe gonna miss him when he's gone.
Part Three