"Dude, It's a Gift"
Title: Dude, It's a Gift
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Sawyer, Hurley
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilerish for a little bit of Two For the Road
A/N: Thanks, as always, to hereswith for being my guinea fish, but I still can't make my computer do that thing over the "n".
Dude, It's a Gift
Ah, home sweet home.
Sawyer dumped his back pack and the only two mangoes that had survived the unexpected extra-curricular wrestling match with La Senorita, grabbed his glasses and Hurley’s manuscript, settled into his favorite front porch chair and let out a long, self-satisfied sigh.
Nothing like a good read to round out a morning tussle on the jungle floor and a well played game of "Who’s Conning Who". All he needed now was for Sassafras to come walking up with a bottle of Jack Daniel's and the news that ol’ Doc had fallen off a cliff and broken his damn fool neck.
He flipped through the pages to find his place, dog-eared just the way you are never, ever supposed to do, and let his mind wander back to the day that Hurley had appeared, looming over him like a mobile mountain that had somehow lost its way, and unceremoniously dropped the rolled up bundle into his lap.
*****
“What’s this, dude? Term papers were due last Wednesday.” He’d been careful to avoid applying his usual annoying nicknames to Hurley, since the Incident of the Imaginary Man in Bathrobe and Slipper. He still carried bruises from that one-sided battle.
“I thought I’d...ah...let you have it. You know. Because I, like, beat the crap outta you the other day.”
Hurley swayed slightly as he continued to stand there, and Sawyer made ready to cut and run, in case the big guy suddenly went down.
“You kidding me? In your dreams, Rocky. Wish you’d stop fillin’ the jungle express with that cock and bull story of yours.”
"Dude! You were squealing like a little girl! Anyway, I don't have time, like, to finish reading it now, 'cause...um...of the thing with Libby. You know, dude." Hurley gave a little smirk, as if to say I'm about to get me some, and you aren't, you redneck jerk.
“Well, way to go, Casanova. You...” just be sure you don’t fall on her and squish her to death. Sawyer had all but said it aloud, reining in his mouth just in time to avoid another ass-kicking at the hands of the not-so gentle giant. “You treat her right, son. That Libby is a real peach.”
Hurley had nodded once, grinned a lopsided grin, and walked his wayward wandering mountain self back up the beach, where his lady stood waiting for him. Sawyer watched as she took his hand, laughing at some inane Hurley-ism, which, no doubt, began with the word “Dude”, and reached up to smooth his hair.
“Good luck with that, Orca,” Sawyer had said, confident that the sounds of surf and wind would prevent his words from actually being heard. “Women tend to disappear on ya, just when you think they’ve come to stay.”
*****
Sawyer chuckled now at the memory and gave a mental thumbs-up to the pair, who seemed to be joined at the hip these days. Hell, maybe there’d be a wedding up at Eko’s church sometime soon. He might even offer up a box of condoms from his stash as a little something for the bride and groom, ‘cause, dude, no way he wanted to see a herd of Mini-Me Dough Boys scootin’ around all over the beach - ever.
He opened “Bad Twin” to the page with the turned down corner and began to read. The writing was just shy of pitiful enough to distract him from the image of Little Hurleys running wild as far as the eye could see.
Sawyer laughed again at the thought and thanked the good Lord for small favors.
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Sawyer, Hurley
Rating: PG
Warning: Spoilerish for a little bit of Two For the Road
A/N: Thanks, as always, to hereswith for being my guinea fish, but I still can't make my computer do that thing over the "n".
Dude, It's a Gift
Ah, home sweet home.
Sawyer dumped his back pack and the only two mangoes that had survived the unexpected extra-curricular wrestling match with La Senorita, grabbed his glasses and Hurley’s manuscript, settled into his favorite front porch chair and let out a long, self-satisfied sigh.
Nothing like a good read to round out a morning tussle on the jungle floor and a well played game of "Who’s Conning Who". All he needed now was for Sassafras to come walking up with a bottle of Jack Daniel's and the news that ol’ Doc had fallen off a cliff and broken his damn fool neck.
He flipped through the pages to find his place, dog-eared just the way you are never, ever supposed to do, and let his mind wander back to the day that Hurley had appeared, looming over him like a mobile mountain that had somehow lost its way, and unceremoniously dropped the rolled up bundle into his lap.
*****
“What’s this, dude? Term papers were due last Wednesday.” He’d been careful to avoid applying his usual annoying nicknames to Hurley, since the Incident of the Imaginary Man in Bathrobe and Slipper. He still carried bruises from that one-sided battle.
“I thought I’d...ah...let you have it. You know. Because I, like, beat the crap outta you the other day.”
Hurley swayed slightly as he continued to stand there, and Sawyer made ready to cut and run, in case the big guy suddenly went down.
“You kidding me? In your dreams, Rocky. Wish you’d stop fillin’ the jungle express with that cock and bull story of yours.”
"Dude! You were squealing like a little girl! Anyway, I don't have time, like, to finish reading it now, 'cause...um...of the thing with Libby. You know, dude." Hurley gave a little smirk, as if to say I'm about to get me some, and you aren't, you redneck jerk.
“Well, way to go, Casanova. You...” just be sure you don’t fall on her and squish her to death. Sawyer had all but said it aloud, reining in his mouth just in time to avoid another ass-kicking at the hands of the not-so gentle giant. “You treat her right, son. That Libby is a real peach.”
Hurley had nodded once, grinned a lopsided grin, and walked his wayward wandering mountain self back up the beach, where his lady stood waiting for him. Sawyer watched as she took his hand, laughing at some inane Hurley-ism, which, no doubt, began with the word “Dude”, and reached up to smooth his hair.
“Good luck with that, Orca,” Sawyer had said, confident that the sounds of surf and wind would prevent his words from actually being heard. “Women tend to disappear on ya, just when you think they’ve come to stay.”
*****
Sawyer chuckled now at the memory and gave a mental thumbs-up to the pair, who seemed to be joined at the hip these days. Hell, maybe there’d be a wedding up at Eko’s church sometime soon. He might even offer up a box of condoms from his stash as a little something for the bride and groom, ‘cause, dude, no way he wanted to see a herd of Mini-Me Dough Boys scootin’ around all over the beach - ever.
He opened “Bad Twin” to the page with the turned down corner and began to read. The writing was just shy of pitiful enough to distract him from the image of Little Hurleys running wild as far as the eye could see.
Sawyer laughed again at the thought and thanked the good Lord for small favors.