Hallelujah! It's overdue Hiatus_Stories fic time!!!
Due January 10 for hiatus_stories, this little piece of fluff fought like a freakin' tiger not to see the light of day. But it is here now, and only 25 days late! Maybe I'll have the other one posted before the summer hiatus hits.
Huge thanks and gianormous hugs go to my dear, non-slasher friend, hereswith, for staying up late to beta this, even though it embarrassed her to tears while making her LOL, and for getting me turned around in a spot or two. Additional thanks go to another dear friend, hendercats for handing me the little pebble, which finally got me unstuck - although I'm giving her a doink! on the head, too - I hope this meets with your expectations, since it was your idea for me to take this prompt on! *G* (hugs you tight!)
Title: Piss Off!
Author: jenthegypsy
Prompt: Jack and Sawyer have a pissing contest - literally.
Rating: PG-17?
PISS OFF!
He had been saying it since day one - they were in the wild - and the absolute best thing about that little bit of news, as far as Sawyer was concerned, was that he could take a piss anywhere he damn well pleased. But even he had a scruple or two, so he'd never pissed on anyone's tent (Jack-ass) or in anyone's camp fire (Jack-Almighty), though that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. Matter of fact, that's what he was doing right now, way out here in the middle of nowhere - he was thinking about pissing off Doctor Do Good by pissing on his back pack. Sawyer didn't actually have Jack's back pack, of course, but there was a rather large leaf hanging from a vine about six feet away which would do in a pinch.
Sawyer took his stance, feet shoulder-width apart and knees slightly flexed, drew his weapon left-handed and fired, the stream falling just shy of its mark. He was in the process of thoroughly analyzing the failed trajectory when a familiar voice drifted into the clearing from the undergrowth on his right.
"Nice try, 'Dead-Eye', but you missed."
Sawyer whipped around, still armed, to find Jack standing there, a smug, tight lipped, holier than thou smile fixed firmly in place. Sawyer swore under his breath as he non-chalantly set himself to rights.
"Suppose you think you could do better," Sawyer challenged with a smug, tight lipped, not a chance in hell smirk of his own.
"Yeah." Jack nodded, looked down and to the left, then back up at Sawyer. "As a matter of fact, I think I could."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah," Jack said again, with total conviction. "I'll kick your ass in a pissing contest, right here, right now." Jack drew his own weapon. "You're going down, sucker."
The possible double entendre was not lost on Sawyer in the slightest. "You wish."
The bewildered look on Jack's face caused Sawyer to laugh aloud. "Let's see whatcha got, Hoss!" More laughter as a deep blush raced up Jack's neck to completely color his face. "Turn that bad boy loose, hot shot, and let 'er rip!"
"Watch and learn, Island Boy." The doctor, who was known far and wide as an all around good guy and champion of fair play, took his place behind the line Sawyer had hastily drawn in the dirt, squared his shoulders, arched his back and did, indeed, let 'er rip. Sawyer took a moment to appreciate Jack's competitive form before ducking his head to get his game face back on. When he looked over at the leaf seconds later, it hung there, bobbing gently up and down. Jack nodded his head once, sharply.
"Direct hit," he said, and then he actually smirked. "Told you."
Sawyer frowned. Something about this scenario wasn't right. He stepped closer to the leaf and took a good, long look. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. It's all in the details, he thought, and we're missin' a big one here.
"Nice try, Buffalo Bill. There's just one little problem." Jack slowly holstered his weapon and looked at Sawyer, mystified. "That leaf ain't wet. And if that leaf ain't wet, that means you didn't piss on it. And if you didn't piss on it to get it to bob up and down like a Prom Queen on a Quarterback, then you musta cheated." Jack had the good graces to turn the color of a ripe mango, while looking everywhere but at the leaf in question, or at Sawyer.
"How 'bout it, doc? Dealin' off the bottom of the deck, were ya?" In the absence of even a faint protest from the dishonestly-challenged leader, Sawyer stepped up to the leaf. Sure enough, there were two vaguely muddied spots directly in front of the target, but no residual dampness on the leaf itself. He leaned down, reaching for something that caught his eye, shining from the shadows just below the vine.
"Well, well, well," he muttered, turning slowly, glancing from the cream and pink colored object that he held delicately between his fingers, to Jack, and back again. "How do you suppose this little-bitty sea shell got all the way up here from the beach?" He closed the distance to Jack, holding the small bit of ocean-front property so close to his face that Jack's eyes crossed looking at it.
"I..." Jack stammered. "I don't know what you are insinuating, Sawyer. Just because you cheat at everything you do doesn't mean that everyone else on this island does, too." Jack wheeled around, took a step away, and spun right back to Sawyer, getting in his face as only Jack could do. "How do I know you didn't plant that there, just so you could accuse me of cheating?" His voice rose in volume as false indignation took hold. "Isn't this a little like the pot calling the kettle black?"
Sawyer smiled, slow and easy, tossing the little shell into the air and catching it again. "Thing is, doc, that leaf still ain't wet. Never was." Jack glared at Sawyer, standing his ground and copping his attitude as though he hadn't just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Care to let me see whatcha holdin' onto so tight in that fist of yours?"
"No!" Jack snapped, and with one last if looks could kill look, he turned on his heel and stalked off into the jungle. Sawyer leaned against a nearby tree, watching him go, and chuckled to himself. Just as the doc was disappearing from sight, Sawyer called out.
"Want me a rematch, Jackass. We'll get the big guy to ref!"
"Piss off!" Jack's voice drifted back, his embarrassment at being found out still clear in his angry tone.
"Yeah," Sawyer mused, "The First Annual Island Piss-Off. Bet old Lambchop will get a kick outta promotin' that. Might even figure myself a sweet little bettin' angle." Sawyer headed toward the beach, smiling and tucking the little pink shell into the pocket of his jeans.
Being in the wild had never felt so good.
Huge thanks and gianormous hugs go to my dear, non-slasher friend, hereswith, for staying up late to beta this, even though it embarrassed her to tears while making her LOL, and for getting me turned around in a spot or two. Additional thanks go to another dear friend, hendercats for handing me the little pebble, which finally got me unstuck - although I'm giving her a doink! on the head, too - I hope this meets with your expectations, since it was your idea for me to take this prompt on! *G* (hugs you tight!)
Title: Piss Off!
Author: jenthegypsy
Prompt: Jack and Sawyer have a pissing contest - literally.
Rating: PG-17?
PISS OFF!
He had been saying it since day one - they were in the wild - and the absolute best thing about that little bit of news, as far as Sawyer was concerned, was that he could take a piss anywhere he damn well pleased. But even he had a scruple or two, so he'd never pissed on anyone's tent (Jack-ass) or in anyone's camp fire (Jack-Almighty), though that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. Matter of fact, that's what he was doing right now, way out here in the middle of nowhere - he was thinking about pissing off Doctor Do Good by pissing on his back pack. Sawyer didn't actually have Jack's back pack, of course, but there was a rather large leaf hanging from a vine about six feet away which would do in a pinch.
Sawyer took his stance, feet shoulder-width apart and knees slightly flexed, drew his weapon left-handed and fired, the stream falling just shy of its mark. He was in the process of thoroughly analyzing the failed trajectory when a familiar voice drifted into the clearing from the undergrowth on his right.
"Nice try, 'Dead-Eye', but you missed."
Sawyer whipped around, still armed, to find Jack standing there, a smug, tight lipped, holier than thou smile fixed firmly in place. Sawyer swore under his breath as he non-chalantly set himself to rights.
"Suppose you think you could do better," Sawyer challenged with a smug, tight lipped, not a chance in hell smirk of his own.
"Yeah." Jack nodded, looked down and to the left, then back up at Sawyer. "As a matter of fact, I think I could."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah," Jack said again, with total conviction. "I'll kick your ass in a pissing contest, right here, right now." Jack drew his own weapon. "You're going down, sucker."
The possible double entendre was not lost on Sawyer in the slightest. "You wish."
The bewildered look on Jack's face caused Sawyer to laugh aloud. "Let's see whatcha got, Hoss!" More laughter as a deep blush raced up Jack's neck to completely color his face. "Turn that bad boy loose, hot shot, and let 'er rip!"
"Watch and learn, Island Boy." The doctor, who was known far and wide as an all around good guy and champion of fair play, took his place behind the line Sawyer had hastily drawn in the dirt, squared his shoulders, arched his back and did, indeed, let 'er rip. Sawyer took a moment to appreciate Jack's competitive form before ducking his head to get his game face back on. When he looked over at the leaf seconds later, it hung there, bobbing gently up and down. Jack nodded his head once, sharply.
"Direct hit," he said, and then he actually smirked. "Told you."
Sawyer frowned. Something about this scenario wasn't right. He stepped closer to the leaf and took a good, long look. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. It's all in the details, he thought, and we're missin' a big one here.
"Nice try, Buffalo Bill. There's just one little problem." Jack slowly holstered his weapon and looked at Sawyer, mystified. "That leaf ain't wet. And if that leaf ain't wet, that means you didn't piss on it. And if you didn't piss on it to get it to bob up and down like a Prom Queen on a Quarterback, then you musta cheated." Jack had the good graces to turn the color of a ripe mango, while looking everywhere but at the leaf in question, or at Sawyer.
"How 'bout it, doc? Dealin' off the bottom of the deck, were ya?" In the absence of even a faint protest from the dishonestly-challenged leader, Sawyer stepped up to the leaf. Sure enough, there were two vaguely muddied spots directly in front of the target, but no residual dampness on the leaf itself. He leaned down, reaching for something that caught his eye, shining from the shadows just below the vine.
"Well, well, well," he muttered, turning slowly, glancing from the cream and pink colored object that he held delicately between his fingers, to Jack, and back again. "How do you suppose this little-bitty sea shell got all the way up here from the beach?" He closed the distance to Jack, holding the small bit of ocean-front property so close to his face that Jack's eyes crossed looking at it.
"I..." Jack stammered. "I don't know what you are insinuating, Sawyer. Just because you cheat at everything you do doesn't mean that everyone else on this island does, too." Jack wheeled around, took a step away, and spun right back to Sawyer, getting in his face as only Jack could do. "How do I know you didn't plant that there, just so you could accuse me of cheating?" His voice rose in volume as false indignation took hold. "Isn't this a little like the pot calling the kettle black?"
Sawyer smiled, slow and easy, tossing the little shell into the air and catching it again. "Thing is, doc, that leaf still ain't wet. Never was." Jack glared at Sawyer, standing his ground and copping his attitude as though he hadn't just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Care to let me see whatcha holdin' onto so tight in that fist of yours?"
"No!" Jack snapped, and with one last if looks could kill look, he turned on his heel and stalked off into the jungle. Sawyer leaned against a nearby tree, watching him go, and chuckled to himself. Just as the doc was disappearing from sight, Sawyer called out.
"Want me a rematch, Jackass. We'll get the big guy to ref!"
"Piss off!" Jack's voice drifted back, his embarrassment at being found out still clear in his angry tone.
"Yeah," Sawyer mused, "The First Annual Island Piss-Off. Bet old Lambchop will get a kick outta promotin' that. Might even figure myself a sweet little bettin' angle." Sawyer headed toward the beach, smiling and tucking the little pink shell into the pocket of his jeans.
Being in the wild had never felt so good.