Fic, Lost: How Desmond got his blue shirt (PG 13)
Title: How Desmond got his blue shirt
Rating: PG-13 (reasons in the warning.)
Characters: Charlie, Hurley, Desmond, some Claire, Locke and Sawyer and of course the blue shirt!
Summary: The title says it all.
Spoilers: through 3x03, 'Further Instructions'
Word count: around 2500
Disclaimer: Lost isn't mine, Desmond's shirt isn't mine, no one is mine except for the plot. Like it's worth something.
Warnings: lack of clothing and common sense, mention and actual presence of Locke's underwear.
A/N: a mention of honor to elliotsmelliot, who made me remember I once had this plot bunny which I had stopped to feed with cruelty and that now jumps merrily in the Craphole Island jungle, and to lasamy who betaed this. This was meant to be serious, because I really think that the blue shirt was Sawyer's once, but it wanted to be crack. I tried to make a deal with it so that it wasn't too crack-ish, but I can't guarantee. First time of me writing Charlie and Hurley (kinda) seriously, you're warned. FB and concrit appreciated! ;) Was nominated for Best Humorous Fic at lost_fic_awards, January 2008. If you're feeling bold, you can venture also the dvd commentary, as cracktastic as the fic!
When Locke disappeared to go towards his tent, Charlie’s intention was plain, simple and very understandable. He was going to find Claire, maybe play his guitar a bit and go to sleep without even thinking of a polar bear. Which, at least in his opinion, wasn’t a bad wish at all, nor a pretentious one. But, he soon discovered, that wasn’t the day in which it was going to be granted. Not at all.
Because...
“Dude! Hey, I... I think I need your help. There’s... mh... a problem, I think.”
Oh, wow. Polar bears, Locke going mute and Indian American, acid trips including Boone’s ghost and now Hurley had a problem.
“What’s the matter now?”
“Desmond.”
“You mean... the hatch bloke?”
“Yeah. Him. Uhm. Dude. He needs clothes. I don’t think he can’t go on with my shirt.”
“Well, that’s bloody sure. Unless we want to go into a laughing fit every time we see him. But why do you need me?”
“Dude, I don’t know about... clothes. And I need help. He isn’t gonna go... ask. I guess.”
Oh, God.
“And why me of everyone?”
“Well, I’m not asking Claire and not Locke. Man, just... no. And is there someone else?”
Reality sunk in. Well, yeah, there wasn’t technically anyone else.
He turned to the beach, where Desmond had stopped throwing rocks and just stared at the sea.
Oh, how he didn’t like any of that.
“Alright, alright, I’m with you.”
“Oh, dude, I mean, great! So, what do you think he needs?”
“Well.. a shirt. Obviously. And pants. And shoes. And... if you think he uses underwear...”
“Dude!! That’s... well, who doesn’t?”
“You’ve never noticed how low Saywer’s jeans are?”
“Did you?”
“I bloody well have! You don’t even need to...”
“Ok, ok, STOP. Who asks him?”
“Well I’m NOT!”
“Well we just can take some and then if he..”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, better than bloody asking.”
Charlie couldn’t quite believe that they were talking about whether Desmond used underwear.
“Hurley, mate... have you even thought about where you should get the clothes?”
“I thought, well, you could lend him..”
“Mate, have you had a look? We aren’t the same size! He has to be at least 30 at the waist and he’s taller than me! And then he has to be about 38 in the chest, I’m 36! And...”
“Well, you’ve got some eye.”
Charlie snorted and actually blushed, turning his head tho the other side.
“Well, I chose the stage clothes, you know?”
Hurley wasn’t that impressed but just let it go and Charlie was grateful for it.
“And anyway, Hurley, you had the better look at his size.”
“I didn’t!!! I just...”
“You did. So, who’s someone who has clothes that fit him?”
“But..”
“Damn I’ve seen him only with baggy stuff and that, I was guessing before!”
Hurley didn’t feel the slightest need to think about it, but... oh, hell. He closed his eyes trying to block out some details and released a breath.
“The pants... dude, I think it’s about Locke’s size. Maybe smaller, but not much.”
Oh fuck, can’t get worse than this, Charlie thought. But he went to find him anyways; luckily he was still in his tent and still hadn’t left. He was putting something away and Charlie tried not to think about the home made LSD it seemed to be.
“John?”
“Charlie. Can I do something for you?”
“Well... not strictly for me, right, but... oh, Hurley, you tell him.”
“Well.. y’know... we need... or rather... someone needs a favour.”
“If I can do anything...”
“You’ve seen hatch guy, right?”
“Yeah. He had a peculiar shirt I dare...”
“Yeah, man, I know that just fine. That’s the problem. ‘Cause Charlie here... oh... dude, you tell him.”
“Oh bloody... John, he needs clothes and for what he has seen, you are the one closer to his size. For the pants. And I’m not joking, no. So, just, do you have a pair of pants and... uhm... well...”
“Underwear?”
“How the hell..”
“Well, what should you be embarassed to ask?”
Charlie shut up and blushed again; Locke went to a suitcase in the corner, took out a pair of beige khakis and one of white briefs, then stood up and went to Charlie.
“These should be fine. I don’t have spare shoes though...”
“Don’t worry, that’s just fine! Thanks John, you’re a sweetheart, see you later!”
Charlie grabbed the clothes and ran outside, with Hurley panting behind him.
“Dude, what the hell...?”
“Sorry but today John scares the hell out of me. Oh, well, at least we’ve got half of the stuff we need. So, what happens now?”
“Well, dude, we find the shirt.”
“Is it really necessary? I mean...”
Charlie didn’t have the slightest urge to keep on with that complete madness. He just hoped Hurley got the hint.
“Well, I guess we can give him these first and then we’ll see, if he doesn’t need one...”
“Bloody good idea!”
Charlie hurried to the beach but stopped just a few metres away from Desmond, almost shocked to find a female crowd of survivors staring intently at the Scot, who, on his side, just sat on the sand, still covered in Hurley’s shirt, watching the sunset as it was the most beautiful thing ever appeared on earth.
Charlie didn’t have time to reason that probably for Desmond it was, and he followed Hurley who had thankfully disperded the crowd, at least for the moment.
“Dude! Desmond!”
“Aye, brother?”
“Uhm... well, first of all, I guess I should introduce you two... so, Charlie, this is Desmond, previously hatch inhabiter, and uhm, Desmond, this is Charlie, previously rock star and... uhm, dude, we found you some clothes.”
At that, Desmond stood up, evidently surprised.
“Well, brother, I’m sure most thankful... what have you got?”
“We went to ask Locke and he gave us, uhm, these.”
Hurley handed him the pants and the briefs; Desmond took them both and after a few seconds he discarded the briefs and handed them to Charlie, who started to turn red.
He had dreamed of handling underwear in his life, sure, but not John Locke’s underwear.
“You can tell John I’m not gonna need these, brother.”
Then Desmond made as to take out his shirt and then putting on the pants, but Hurley was quick to stop him.
“Dude! Put on the pants first!”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, people, are, uhm, staring, dude.”
Desmond had a look around. He seemed not to have noticed anyone. Then shrugged and turned to Hurley again.
“Brother, it’s not like you haven’t seen anything, is that?”
Hurley became as red as Charlie was, feeling everyone staring at him too. Damn, it was getting worse every second.
“You don’t want all the camp staring at you, believe me.”
“Well, that’s right too. Aye, like you say.”
Much to Hurley’s relief, Desmond managed to put on the pants without showing anything off and then took out the shirt, which Hurley took back; Desmond remained there, shirtless and staring at the beach again, like he could stay forever there watching it as the sun set down.
Charlie hurried back; after a quick check he made sure that Locke’s tent was empty and he left the briefs inside. He didn’t even care where as long as he didn’t have the responsability, and then hurried back to his tent, where his guitar was. Claire was still keeping an eye on Eko with those two whose name he couldn’t remember for the life of him and so Charlie decided to go there later. Now he really needed to play a couple of songs and relax a bit. He fussled a bit with the chords and then, feeling better already, settled on some Beatles; he was in the middle of a folk rendition of She Loves You that he guessed was making John Lennon and George Harrison turn in their graves when...
“Dude! Charlie!”
Oh, bloody hell, he thought, now what?
“What’s happenning now?”
“We, uhm, should’ve, searched for a shirt.”
“Again with this clothes nonsense??”
“It’s more serious than we thought.”
“But why?”
Hurley shrugged and looked at his left. Charlie understood at once what the matter was.
Desmond didn’t really have a place there, not so soon, and he was just sitting by the fire trying not to freeze, since they could be in the Tropics but the night was cold, pretty much, without any clothing. Though the problem was that there were at least fifteen women staring and murmuring.
“Damn.”
“You understand?”
“Yeah, yeah, I do. Well, ok, we should find a shirt. But I’m damn well not asking John again.”
”Neither am I, neither am I. Uhm, maybe one of Jack’s shirts?”
“You’re crazy? They kidnapped him, you can’t just take his stuff like...”
“But he would say it’s okay. I mean, they knew each other before...”
“Well, I’m not taking Jack’s stuff.”
”One of Sayid’s...”
Charlie didn’t even let him finish.
“Mate, are you crazy? You wanna get killed? And tank tops are not Hatch’s style anyway.”
“Dude, you’re ruling out all the possibilities we have.”
“Well, Sayid speaking, maybe... No, no, I...”
“Dude, spit it.”
Charlie didn’t like the idea a bit, though. At least because if Hurley agreed to go through with it, he was definitely getting Eko to confess him as soon as he woke up.
“Sayid still keeps... all of Shannon’s stuff. Among which...”
“You mean you wanna give him Boone’s clothes? Dude, just, no. And Sayid would recognize them and kill you anyway.”
“Kill us.”
“Kill you, man. I’m not helping you with this.”
“But if it was your idea to get the clothes in the first place!”
“Well, I’m not with you on this.”
Charlie sighed and brought a hand to his forehead. There were better ways to get headaches.
“We’re ruling out Jin too, I guess.”
“You want to explain him when he’s back?”
“No, I don’t, but you’re bloody picky.”
“I’m a realist, man.”
“Oh screw it, Colonel Bloody Kurtz, I’m not putting up with...”
“Don’t go all Sawyer on me, du...”
Charlie’s eyes widened and Hurley stopped speaking. What...?
“What did you just say?”
“I said don’t you go all Sawyer on...”
“Damn fine! We’ve got it!”
Hurley looked at Charlie like he had just gone crazy.
“Charlie...”
“Sawyer! He’s got quite some clothes in his stash and I bet three quarter of it came from the luggage! It’s not like they’re his, right? And maybe his stuff would be a little large on our Bearded Wonder but...”
“Dude, you’re, like, a genious. I approve!”
“Then let’s go and end this once for all.”
--
Meanwhile, Claire left someone who voluntereed to look after Eko and decided to go lie down a bit. Aaron was still asleep and she really could use some rest.
Except that she changed idea at the moment she saw Charlie and Hurley sneaking into Sawyer’s tent.
“Dude, that’s narrow...”
“I guess...”
Charlie looked around trying to see if under the piles of books (which actually looked in some order) and magazines he could find some clothes. Difficult, since Hurley was blocking half of his camp of vision, but...
“Charlie. There’s a suitcase here.”
“Take it to this side.”
They both kneeled after Charlie put it on the airplane seat in the middle of the tent. Then Charlie opened it and felt on the verge of weeping of joy. It was stuffed with neatly folded jeans and shirts. He reached for the first, but...
“Hey. Not that.”
“Why?”
“First of all, I’ve seen Sawyer wearing it sometimes. Second, it’s hideous.”
Charlie took a better look. It was a light flannel, beige, with red and green vertical stripes. He imagined Desmond dressed in it and had to stop a laughing fit.
“Ok, not this. Well...”
“And what are you two doing here, now?”
They jumped and turned around at the same moment.
“Claire?!”, they both screamed.
“Quite me.”
“Claire, whatever you’re thinking, well, it’s NOT!”
“Explain me then. What’s that? You’re going through Sawyer’s clothes?”
“Claire, Claire”, said Hurley hoping to save the day, “you know that hatch dude...”
“The one going around shirtless?”
Hurley chuckled and Charlie stopped pretending and entered into full sulking mode.
“Yeah, him. We wanted to find him a shirt to wear and you know, we, uhm, discussed the matter, and, you know, we didn’t have anyone to ask, not here anyway, and since Sawyer has all the luggage stuff, he won’t notice that, if...”
Claire’s expression changed from inquisitory to smiling in three seconds and she tried to hold back laughter. Even if the situation screamed for laughter.
“That’s okay. And I’ll help you, since you both don’t have taste for anything.”
Charlie was just too happy too let her do the job and stepped away from the suitcase, as Hurley did; Claire kneeled and started to go through the shirts, careful not to unfold them, until she said something like I got it! and unfolded on her knees a blue cotton shirt, with three quarter sleeves, that looked warm enough but also wasn’t too much for that weather.
“What about this? Sawyer never wore it, at least I don’t remember.”
Hurley nodded.
“I think it’s just fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, bloody fine.”
“Good, then.”
Claire handed Charlie the shirt and made to get out, but he called her back.
“Claire!”
“Yes?”
“How did you decide?”
“Me? Oh, I just thought he’d look great in blue.”
She left the tent and Charlie found himself unable to move an inch.
“Dude. You’ll be catching a lot of flies, if you don’t close your mouth.”
“Just shut the hell up, won’t you?”
--
“Hey, John Paul Jones!”
Charlie almost choked on the Dharma bar he was eating. Damn it, since Sawyer and Kate got back he found he couldn’t just shrug Sawyer’s remarks away, if he didn’t see it coming. It was like in the beginning again.
“What the hell you want? You scared the hell out of me, if...”
“Since you’re hangin’ ‘round a lot with the Hatch Braveheart, I though I could ask ya somethin’.”
“... what?”
“Is he wearin’ one of my shirts ‘cause he found it on the beach?”
And they thought he wouldn’t notice.
Poor fools, they understimated him. A lot.
“No. It was me. And Hurley. And...”
“Look, Sid, I don’t think I wanna know the details or how many people were searchin’ through my stuff.”
Charlie noted that Sawyer didn’t look too angry, though, while he was shaking his head.
“What do you want to do?”, Charlie asked without too much hope.
“Me? Jonesy, I got no time to waste over this bullshit. ‘Sides... I must admit it suits him more than me.”
“What???”
“There was a reason for which I ain’t ever wore it, VH1.”
Sawyer took some fruit from the table where Charlie had to lean to prevent himself from falling on the ground and left.
Charlie turned his head and looked at the beach, where Desmond was standing on some rocks, looking at the sea again.
Fuck it, he admitted to himself, that bloody piece of cloth suits the bastard alright.
The very End.
Rating: PG-13 (reasons in the warning.)
Characters: Charlie, Hurley, Desmond, some Claire, Locke and Sawyer and of course the blue shirt!
Summary: The title says it all.
Spoilers: through 3x03, 'Further Instructions'
Word count: around 2500
Disclaimer: Lost isn't mine, Desmond's shirt isn't mine, no one is mine except for the plot. Like it's worth something.
Warnings: lack of clothing and common sense, mention and actual presence of Locke's underwear.
A/N: a mention of honor to elliotsmelliot, who made me remember I once had this plot bunny which I had stopped to feed with cruelty and that now jumps merrily in the Craphole Island jungle, and to lasamy who betaed this. This was meant to be serious, because I really think that the blue shirt was Sawyer's once, but it wanted to be crack. I tried to make a deal with it so that it wasn't too crack-ish, but I can't guarantee. First time of me writing Charlie and Hurley (kinda) seriously, you're warned. FB and concrit appreciated! ;) Was nominated for Best Humorous Fic at lost_fic_awards, January 2008. If you're feeling bold, you can venture also the dvd commentary, as cracktastic as the fic!
When Locke disappeared to go towards his tent, Charlie’s intention was plain, simple and very understandable. He was going to find Claire, maybe play his guitar a bit and go to sleep without even thinking of a polar bear. Which, at least in his opinion, wasn’t a bad wish at all, nor a pretentious one. But, he soon discovered, that wasn’t the day in which it was going to be granted. Not at all.
Because...
“Dude! Hey, I... I think I need your help. There’s... mh... a problem, I think.”
Oh, wow. Polar bears, Locke going mute and Indian American, acid trips including Boone’s ghost and now Hurley had a problem.
“What’s the matter now?”
“Desmond.”
“You mean... the hatch bloke?”
“Yeah. Him. Uhm. Dude. He needs clothes. I don’t think he can’t go on with my shirt.”
“Well, that’s bloody sure. Unless we want to go into a laughing fit every time we see him. But why do you need me?”
“Dude, I don’t know about... clothes. And I need help. He isn’t gonna go... ask. I guess.”
Oh, God.
“And why me of everyone?”
“Well, I’m not asking Claire and not Locke. Man, just... no. And is there someone else?”
Reality sunk in. Well, yeah, there wasn’t technically anyone else.
He turned to the beach, where Desmond had stopped throwing rocks and just stared at the sea.
Oh, how he didn’t like any of that.
“Alright, alright, I’m with you.”
“Oh, dude, I mean, great! So, what do you think he needs?”
“Well.. a shirt. Obviously. And pants. And shoes. And... if you think he uses underwear...”
“Dude!! That’s... well, who doesn’t?”
“You’ve never noticed how low Saywer’s jeans are?”
“Did you?”
“I bloody well have! You don’t even need to...”
“Ok, ok, STOP. Who asks him?”
“Well I’m NOT!”
“Well we just can take some and then if he..”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, better than bloody asking.”
Charlie couldn’t quite believe that they were talking about whether Desmond used underwear.
“Hurley, mate... have you even thought about where you should get the clothes?”
“I thought, well, you could lend him..”
“Mate, have you had a look? We aren’t the same size! He has to be at least 30 at the waist and he’s taller than me! And then he has to be about 38 in the chest, I’m 36! And...”
“Well, you’ve got some eye.”
Charlie snorted and actually blushed, turning his head tho the other side.
“Well, I chose the stage clothes, you know?”
Hurley wasn’t that impressed but just let it go and Charlie was grateful for it.
“And anyway, Hurley, you had the better look at his size.”
“I didn’t!!! I just...”
“You did. So, who’s someone who has clothes that fit him?”
“But..”
“Damn I’ve seen him only with baggy stuff and that, I was guessing before!”
Hurley didn’t feel the slightest need to think about it, but... oh, hell. He closed his eyes trying to block out some details and released a breath.
“The pants... dude, I think it’s about Locke’s size. Maybe smaller, but not much.”
Oh fuck, can’t get worse than this, Charlie thought. But he went to find him anyways; luckily he was still in his tent and still hadn’t left. He was putting something away and Charlie tried not to think about the home made LSD it seemed to be.
“John?”
“Charlie. Can I do something for you?”
“Well... not strictly for me, right, but... oh, Hurley, you tell him.”
“Well.. y’know... we need... or rather... someone needs a favour.”
“If I can do anything...”
“You’ve seen hatch guy, right?”
“Yeah. He had a peculiar shirt I dare...”
“Yeah, man, I know that just fine. That’s the problem. ‘Cause Charlie here... oh... dude, you tell him.”
“Oh bloody... John, he needs clothes and for what he has seen, you are the one closer to his size. For the pants. And I’m not joking, no. So, just, do you have a pair of pants and... uhm... well...”
“Underwear?”
“How the hell..”
“Well, what should you be embarassed to ask?”
Charlie shut up and blushed again; Locke went to a suitcase in the corner, took out a pair of beige khakis and one of white briefs, then stood up and went to Charlie.
“These should be fine. I don’t have spare shoes though...”
“Don’t worry, that’s just fine! Thanks John, you’re a sweetheart, see you later!”
Charlie grabbed the clothes and ran outside, with Hurley panting behind him.
“Dude, what the hell...?”
“Sorry but today John scares the hell out of me. Oh, well, at least we’ve got half of the stuff we need. So, what happens now?”
“Well, dude, we find the shirt.”
“Is it really necessary? I mean...”
Charlie didn’t have the slightest urge to keep on with that complete madness. He just hoped Hurley got the hint.
“Well, I guess we can give him these first and then we’ll see, if he doesn’t need one...”
“Bloody good idea!”
Charlie hurried to the beach but stopped just a few metres away from Desmond, almost shocked to find a female crowd of survivors staring intently at the Scot, who, on his side, just sat on the sand, still covered in Hurley’s shirt, watching the sunset as it was the most beautiful thing ever appeared on earth.
Charlie didn’t have time to reason that probably for Desmond it was, and he followed Hurley who had thankfully disperded the crowd, at least for the moment.
“Dude! Desmond!”
“Aye, brother?”
“Uhm... well, first of all, I guess I should introduce you two... so, Charlie, this is Desmond, previously hatch inhabiter, and uhm, Desmond, this is Charlie, previously rock star and... uhm, dude, we found you some clothes.”
At that, Desmond stood up, evidently surprised.
“Well, brother, I’m sure most thankful... what have you got?”
“We went to ask Locke and he gave us, uhm, these.”
Hurley handed him the pants and the briefs; Desmond took them both and after a few seconds he discarded the briefs and handed them to Charlie, who started to turn red.
He had dreamed of handling underwear in his life, sure, but not John Locke’s underwear.
“You can tell John I’m not gonna need these, brother.”
Then Desmond made as to take out his shirt and then putting on the pants, but Hurley was quick to stop him.
“Dude! Put on the pants first!”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, people, are, uhm, staring, dude.”
Desmond had a look around. He seemed not to have noticed anyone. Then shrugged and turned to Hurley again.
“Brother, it’s not like you haven’t seen anything, is that?”
Hurley became as red as Charlie was, feeling everyone staring at him too. Damn, it was getting worse every second.
“You don’t want all the camp staring at you, believe me.”
“Well, that’s right too. Aye, like you say.”
Much to Hurley’s relief, Desmond managed to put on the pants without showing anything off and then took out the shirt, which Hurley took back; Desmond remained there, shirtless and staring at the beach again, like he could stay forever there watching it as the sun set down.
Charlie hurried back; after a quick check he made sure that Locke’s tent was empty and he left the briefs inside. He didn’t even care where as long as he didn’t have the responsability, and then hurried back to his tent, where his guitar was. Claire was still keeping an eye on Eko with those two whose name he couldn’t remember for the life of him and so Charlie decided to go there later. Now he really needed to play a couple of songs and relax a bit. He fussled a bit with the chords and then, feeling better already, settled on some Beatles; he was in the middle of a folk rendition of She Loves You that he guessed was making John Lennon and George Harrison turn in their graves when...
“Dude! Charlie!”
Oh, bloody hell, he thought, now what?
“What’s happenning now?”
“We, uhm, should’ve, searched for a shirt.”
“Again with this clothes nonsense??”
“It’s more serious than we thought.”
“But why?”
Hurley shrugged and looked at his left. Charlie understood at once what the matter was.
Desmond didn’t really have a place there, not so soon, and he was just sitting by the fire trying not to freeze, since they could be in the Tropics but the night was cold, pretty much, without any clothing. Though the problem was that there were at least fifteen women staring and murmuring.
“Damn.”
“You understand?”
“Yeah, yeah, I do. Well, ok, we should find a shirt. But I’m damn well not asking John again.”
”Neither am I, neither am I. Uhm, maybe one of Jack’s shirts?”
“You’re crazy? They kidnapped him, you can’t just take his stuff like...”
“But he would say it’s okay. I mean, they knew each other before...”
“Well, I’m not taking Jack’s stuff.”
”One of Sayid’s...”
Charlie didn’t even let him finish.
“Mate, are you crazy? You wanna get killed? And tank tops are not Hatch’s style anyway.”
“Dude, you’re ruling out all the possibilities we have.”
“Well, Sayid speaking, maybe... No, no, I...”
“Dude, spit it.”
Charlie didn’t like the idea a bit, though. At least because if Hurley agreed to go through with it, he was definitely getting Eko to confess him as soon as he woke up.
“Sayid still keeps... all of Shannon’s stuff. Among which...”
“You mean you wanna give him Boone’s clothes? Dude, just, no. And Sayid would recognize them and kill you anyway.”
“Kill us.”
“Kill you, man. I’m not helping you with this.”
“But if it was your idea to get the clothes in the first place!”
“Well, I’m not with you on this.”
Charlie sighed and brought a hand to his forehead. There were better ways to get headaches.
“We’re ruling out Jin too, I guess.”
“You want to explain him when he’s back?”
“No, I don’t, but you’re bloody picky.”
“I’m a realist, man.”
“Oh screw it, Colonel Bloody Kurtz, I’m not putting up with...”
“Don’t go all Sawyer on me, du...”
Charlie’s eyes widened and Hurley stopped speaking. What...?
“What did you just say?”
“I said don’t you go all Sawyer on...”
“Damn fine! We’ve got it!”
Hurley looked at Charlie like he had just gone crazy.
“Charlie...”
“Sawyer! He’s got quite some clothes in his stash and I bet three quarter of it came from the luggage! It’s not like they’re his, right? And maybe his stuff would be a little large on our Bearded Wonder but...”
“Dude, you’re, like, a genious. I approve!”
“Then let’s go and end this once for all.”
--
Meanwhile, Claire left someone who voluntereed to look after Eko and decided to go lie down a bit. Aaron was still asleep and she really could use some rest.
Except that she changed idea at the moment she saw Charlie and Hurley sneaking into Sawyer’s tent.
“Dude, that’s narrow...”
“I guess...”
Charlie looked around trying to see if under the piles of books (which actually looked in some order) and magazines he could find some clothes. Difficult, since Hurley was blocking half of his camp of vision, but...
“Charlie. There’s a suitcase here.”
“Take it to this side.”
They both kneeled after Charlie put it on the airplane seat in the middle of the tent. Then Charlie opened it and felt on the verge of weeping of joy. It was stuffed with neatly folded jeans and shirts. He reached for the first, but...
“Hey. Not that.”
“Why?”
“First of all, I’ve seen Sawyer wearing it sometimes. Second, it’s hideous.”
Charlie took a better look. It was a light flannel, beige, with red and green vertical stripes. He imagined Desmond dressed in it and had to stop a laughing fit.
“Ok, not this. Well...”
“And what are you two doing here, now?”
They jumped and turned around at the same moment.
“Claire?!”, they both screamed.
“Quite me.”
“Claire, whatever you’re thinking, well, it’s NOT!”
“Explain me then. What’s that? You’re going through Sawyer’s clothes?”
“Claire, Claire”, said Hurley hoping to save the day, “you know that hatch dude...”
“The one going around shirtless?”
Hurley chuckled and Charlie stopped pretending and entered into full sulking mode.
“Yeah, him. We wanted to find him a shirt to wear and you know, we, uhm, discussed the matter, and, you know, we didn’t have anyone to ask, not here anyway, and since Sawyer has all the luggage stuff, he won’t notice that, if...”
Claire’s expression changed from inquisitory to smiling in three seconds and she tried to hold back laughter. Even if the situation screamed for laughter.
“That’s okay. And I’ll help you, since you both don’t have taste for anything.”
Charlie was just too happy too let her do the job and stepped away from the suitcase, as Hurley did; Claire kneeled and started to go through the shirts, careful not to unfold them, until she said something like I got it! and unfolded on her knees a blue cotton shirt, with three quarter sleeves, that looked warm enough but also wasn’t too much for that weather.
“What about this? Sawyer never wore it, at least I don’t remember.”
Hurley nodded.
“I think it’s just fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, bloody fine.”
“Good, then.”
Claire handed Charlie the shirt and made to get out, but he called her back.
“Claire!”
“Yes?”
“How did you decide?”
“Me? Oh, I just thought he’d look great in blue.”
She left the tent and Charlie found himself unable to move an inch.
“Dude. You’ll be catching a lot of flies, if you don’t close your mouth.”
“Just shut the hell up, won’t you?”
--
“Hey, John Paul Jones!”
Charlie almost choked on the Dharma bar he was eating. Damn it, since Sawyer and Kate got back he found he couldn’t just shrug Sawyer’s remarks away, if he didn’t see it coming. It was like in the beginning again.
“What the hell you want? You scared the hell out of me, if...”
“Since you’re hangin’ ‘round a lot with the Hatch Braveheart, I though I could ask ya somethin’.”
“... what?”
“Is he wearin’ one of my shirts ‘cause he found it on the beach?”
And they thought he wouldn’t notice.
Poor fools, they understimated him. A lot.
“No. It was me. And Hurley. And...”
“Look, Sid, I don’t think I wanna know the details or how many people were searchin’ through my stuff.”
Charlie noted that Sawyer didn’t look too angry, though, while he was shaking his head.
“What do you want to do?”, Charlie asked without too much hope.
“Me? Jonesy, I got no time to waste over this bullshit. ‘Sides... I must admit it suits him more than me.”
“What???”
“There was a reason for which I ain’t ever wore it, VH1.”
Sawyer took some fruit from the table where Charlie had to lean to prevent himself from falling on the ground and left.
Charlie turned his head and looked at the beach, where Desmond was standing on some rocks, looking at the sea again.
Fuck it, he admitted to himself, that bloody piece of cloth suits the bastard alright.
The very End.