The Time Between (R)
Happy (slightly belated) Anniversary, halfdutch!! OTP 4 EVA, LOL! ♥
Title: The Time Between
Rating: R for language and references to prostitution/sex
Spoilers: The Long Con
Summary: Sawyer's past, present, and moments in between.
Notes: This is loosely based off an idea eponine119 raised about Sawyer's intimacy issues, of which there are many. ;D
Using fanfic100 prompt #4 ("insides").
Her name was Lisa.
She came to his hotel room at midnight dressed in various shades of black; he remembered the time because she glanced at the clock on the wall before shedding her coat. He had one hour.
She never asked his name and he was grateful, pathetically so. Her hair was dark and he asked her to pull it back, just at her neck, and then she asked if there was anything else he wanted before they began.
Sawyer said, “Keep it quiet,” as he shut off the lights.
::
Cassidy had a habit of biting her lip before coming, like she never really wanted to embarrass herself with something so trivial as sound. She’d hold her breath and dig her nails into his shoulders, but he’d always lean in, pry her lips open with the tip of his tongue before kissing her, saying against her mouth, “Just let it go, baby.”
And she’d gasp for air as her jaw went slack and say his name over and over again and he’d close his eyes, wanting more, wanting that name to be true, yet never wanting anything at all.
::
Lisa was not the first. The honor belonged to Caitlyn some fifteen years earlier, when he’d had to count the money out on the bedspread to make sure as she stood in the bathroom doorway and popped her gum. She’d said he was cute and had a nice ass.
He remembered her blonde hair, dark at the roots, and that was it.
A week after Lisa he thought he saw Cassidy standing outside a bank in Tulsa. He paused, wondering if she’d followed him, if she knew, but then the woman turned and he realized his mistake.
She’d never follow him. He’d done his job too well.
He found a girl that night in the hotel bar, Jamie, young and rich and unhappily married to a stockbroker. She licked her lips when he told her he’d never seen eyes as blue as hers, and by morning she was wrapped in his arms, covered in his scent, and Sawyer had numbers and figures running through his head before the sun was even halfway up. He called Gordy that night.
Two weeks later they were both a hundred grand in the black.
::
“Where’d your mama even come up with a name like that?” Her hair fell in his face, smelling like his shampoo.
“She was a creative type.” He leaned up to kiss her, pull her down from where she was braced above him. She liked that stance, liked having him beneath her.
“It’s not creative. It’s a last name, not a first.”
“Didn’t know it bothered you.” Sawyer kissed her then, slow, rolled her onto her back.
Cassidy smiled. “If your real name’s Earl, you know I won’t tell.” She rolled her hips up into him, making him gasp.
“Do I look like a fuckin’ Earl?”
“No.” She traced her nail over his cheeks, down the slope of his nose. “But that money looked real at first glance, so how should I know?”
“You coulda gone through my damn wallet.” He wondered if she had. Not that it mattered, but he still wondered.
“Yeah, I know. But I just thought I’d ask.” She nuzzled her nose against his chin. “Never hurts to ask, right?”
“Sure.” Just as long as you don’t have to answer.
::
He never expected anything out of Kate. She was stationary by default, and there was no going back after mistakes were made.
What he did expect was her shame, her disgust and disappointment overriding the hatred more than the others who now looked at him once again like sin incarnate. She knew too much, and for that he was truly sorry. It was the one mistake he’d admit to.
It took a whole twenty four hours before she came to him, her steps tentative and her head bowed. He was no longer welcome on the beach, which gave him all the more reason to stay; she stood before his tent and crossed her arms, her eyes drifting to the same magazine she’d shared with him the day before.
“Guess I’ll never get those replacement specs now, huh?” He kicked it toward her, spraying sand at her feet. “You keep it.”
“This won’t work.” Her voice was too soft, not enough edge to it.
“Yeah, well, my book-of-the-month club dried up, anyway.”
She sank to her knees slowly and reached for the magazine. Then she rolled it into a tight tube and threw it at him, hard, smacking him square across the cheek. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch.
“You know damn well you can’t keep them hidden from Jack and Locke forever. I don’t know how you did this, or who you got to help you, but it won’t. Work.” Her jaw barely moved as she spoke.
“Maybe you’ve underestimated me, Freckles. Lord knows I’ve done the same with you.” He was serious now. She knew the level he was playing on, she’d tried to get there before without much success; she never played the game right.
She sat back and stared at him, her throat working in sporadic beats. “Maybe I did,” she whispered. “But this won’t change anything, Sawyer. They’re not going to kill you for this.”
“Ain’t that a relief.” He knew he couldn’t scare her, but he dropped his voice all the same.
“I’m not going to ask you why. I know you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”
He tipped his head back and smirked.
“So I guess you and Doc are back to bein’ friendly again now.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Aw, c’mon. What with me out of the picture, he’s got no reason to be pissed at you anymore.”
“He’s not-”
Sawyer leaned forward and said very simply, “I don’t care.”
Her cheeks colored for a moment before she stood and left him in silence.
::
Lisa followed directions well.
But in the dark, as their breathing slowed and their skin cooled, she whispered against his collarbone, “You have soft hands.”
She left the bed after that, and he turned his face into the pillow while he listened to the muffled sounds of her gathering clothes and money.
He waited for the door to click shut behind her before he sighed.
Title: The Time Between
Rating: R for language and references to prostitution/sex
Spoilers: The Long Con
Summary: Sawyer's past, present, and moments in between.
Notes: This is loosely based off an idea eponine119 raised about Sawyer's intimacy issues, of which there are many. ;D
Using fanfic100 prompt #4 ("insides").
Her name was Lisa.
She came to his hotel room at midnight dressed in various shades of black; he remembered the time because she glanced at the clock on the wall before shedding her coat. He had one hour.
She never asked his name and he was grateful, pathetically so. Her hair was dark and he asked her to pull it back, just at her neck, and then she asked if there was anything else he wanted before they began.
Sawyer said, “Keep it quiet,” as he shut off the lights.
::
Cassidy had a habit of biting her lip before coming, like she never really wanted to embarrass herself with something so trivial as sound. She’d hold her breath and dig her nails into his shoulders, but he’d always lean in, pry her lips open with the tip of his tongue before kissing her, saying against her mouth, “Just let it go, baby.”
And she’d gasp for air as her jaw went slack and say his name over and over again and he’d close his eyes, wanting more, wanting that name to be true, yet never wanting anything at all.
::
Lisa was not the first. The honor belonged to Caitlyn some fifteen years earlier, when he’d had to count the money out on the bedspread to make sure as she stood in the bathroom doorway and popped her gum. She’d said he was cute and had a nice ass.
He remembered her blonde hair, dark at the roots, and that was it.
A week after Lisa he thought he saw Cassidy standing outside a bank in Tulsa. He paused, wondering if she’d followed him, if she knew, but then the woman turned and he realized his mistake.
She’d never follow him. He’d done his job too well.
He found a girl that night in the hotel bar, Jamie, young and rich and unhappily married to a stockbroker. She licked her lips when he told her he’d never seen eyes as blue as hers, and by morning she was wrapped in his arms, covered in his scent, and Sawyer had numbers and figures running through his head before the sun was even halfway up. He called Gordy that night.
Two weeks later they were both a hundred grand in the black.
::
“Where’d your mama even come up with a name like that?” Her hair fell in his face, smelling like his shampoo.
“She was a creative type.” He leaned up to kiss her, pull her down from where she was braced above him. She liked that stance, liked having him beneath her.
“It’s not creative. It’s a last name, not a first.”
“Didn’t know it bothered you.” Sawyer kissed her then, slow, rolled her onto her back.
Cassidy smiled. “If your real name’s Earl, you know I won’t tell.” She rolled her hips up into him, making him gasp.
“Do I look like a fuckin’ Earl?”
“No.” She traced her nail over his cheeks, down the slope of his nose. “But that money looked real at first glance, so how should I know?”
“You coulda gone through my damn wallet.” He wondered if she had. Not that it mattered, but he still wondered.
“Yeah, I know. But I just thought I’d ask.” She nuzzled her nose against his chin. “Never hurts to ask, right?”
“Sure.” Just as long as you don’t have to answer.
::
He never expected anything out of Kate. She was stationary by default, and there was no going back after mistakes were made.
What he did expect was her shame, her disgust and disappointment overriding the hatred more than the others who now looked at him once again like sin incarnate. She knew too much, and for that he was truly sorry. It was the one mistake he’d admit to.
It took a whole twenty four hours before she came to him, her steps tentative and her head bowed. He was no longer welcome on the beach, which gave him all the more reason to stay; she stood before his tent and crossed her arms, her eyes drifting to the same magazine she’d shared with him the day before.
“Guess I’ll never get those replacement specs now, huh?” He kicked it toward her, spraying sand at her feet. “You keep it.”
“This won’t work.” Her voice was too soft, not enough edge to it.
“Yeah, well, my book-of-the-month club dried up, anyway.”
She sank to her knees slowly and reached for the magazine. Then she rolled it into a tight tube and threw it at him, hard, smacking him square across the cheek. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch.
“You know damn well you can’t keep them hidden from Jack and Locke forever. I don’t know how you did this, or who you got to help you, but it won’t. Work.” Her jaw barely moved as she spoke.
“Maybe you’ve underestimated me, Freckles. Lord knows I’ve done the same with you.” He was serious now. She knew the level he was playing on, she’d tried to get there before without much success; she never played the game right.
She sat back and stared at him, her throat working in sporadic beats. “Maybe I did,” she whispered. “But this won’t change anything, Sawyer. They’re not going to kill you for this.”
“Ain’t that a relief.” He knew he couldn’t scare her, but he dropped his voice all the same.
“I’m not going to ask you why. I know you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”
He tipped his head back and smirked.
“So I guess you and Doc are back to bein’ friendly again now.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Aw, c’mon. What with me out of the picture, he’s got no reason to be pissed at you anymore.”
“He’s not-”
Sawyer leaned forward and said very simply, “I don’t care.”
Her cheeks colored for a moment before she stood and left him in silence.
::
Lisa followed directions well.
But in the dark, as their breathing slowed and their skin cooled, she whispered against his collarbone, “You have soft hands.”
She left the bed after that, and he turned his face into the pillow while he listened to the muffled sounds of her gathering clothes and money.
He waited for the door to click shut behind her before he sighed.