LOST: Domestic Bliss - CC - Oneshot
Title::..Domestic Bliss
Rating::..G
Genre::..Fluff
Characters::..Claire, Charlie, Aaron and Hurley
Pairing::..Charlie/Claire
Author’s Note::..I’ve written my fair share of fics with Claire living at the barracks, this time I decided to take Charlie with her. A very fluffy piece of what might have happened had he lived to escape The Looking Glass. I decided to not kill you with details of what happened at the end of season three, this way y’all can just concentrate on the CC goodness.
Summary::..Charlie and Claire play house in the barracks.
The smell of something burning floated into the bedroom where Claire stirred from the grasp of deep sleep. She rolled over, extending her arm across the crumpled bed sheets. Curious for more information she lifted her head from the plush pillow, but Charlie was nowhere to be seen. How strange, he rarely woke up before her. She sat up groggily, the warm blanket falling away from her body as all remained silent in the house.
She wasn’t alerted by the scent of smoke, not after spending so much time around campfires. She didn’t put much thought into the cause until the fire alarm started screeching. Aaron started crying a few seconds later. Any ideas Claire might have held about going back to sleep were immediately destroyed.
“Bloody hell!” Charlie’s voice travelled down the hallway.
Claire got up, readjusting her satin nightgown. Aaron’s cries quietened, suggesting Charlie’s attempts at soothing him. Meanwhile the fire alarm continued singing, growing louder with every step she took. She didn’t rush, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep.
She arrived on the scene to find Charlie climbing onto the counter. He held a red-faced Aaron in one arm. He was reaching toward the noisy device mounted on the roof, his tongue poked into the corner of his lips as he strained, his arm a mere inch away. She thought it would be counterproductive to tell him her preference of a traditional alarm clock over this chaos.
He finally depressed the reset button and the beeping reached its anticlimactic end. Aaron was still voicing his annoyance. Now that Charlie didn’t have any other distractions he could get to work calming the baby. He sat cross-legged where Charlie usually prepared their meals and began to gently bounce Aaron.
“Charlie, what on Earth is going on?” She asked incredulously.
His eyebrows shot up as he whipped around to face her. She almost laughed at his expression, reminded of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “When did you wake up?”
“When you almost burnt the house down.” She teased before holding her arms out. “Here, gi’ me Aaron.”
He passed the squirming baby over to Claire, sliding off the counter. He then crossed the kitchen and started turning the knobs of the oven. Claire pat Aaron’s back as she waited for some answers.
“Sorry.” Charlie said, turning to face her. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed, I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand.”
Her heart swelled and she found his clumsiness endearing again. “You were making me breakfast?” She asked with a smile. “What were you making me?”
“Peanut butter on toast.” He confessed, pulling the top tray out of the oven. On top lie two blackened pieces of toast, no longer edible. “But I never figured out how to use the griller, which is a shame because it was going to be incredibly romantic.”
Aaron was settling, resting his tired head against her chest. She took advantage of this silence, approaching Charlie. “It’s the thought that counts and don’t worry, it’s still seriously romantic.” She pushed her lips to his and his arm encircled her waist.
Nobody had ever made her breakfast in bed before. Or ever tired. She was flattered that he thought she was worth such an effort, she wasn’t worried over having to make her own breakfast as usual.
She trailed her tongue along his lip as they separated, savouring the moment for a little longer. These days perfect encounters like this weren’t reserved for times of desperation or impending doom. Goodbye kisses had become a rarity between them and she was eternally grateful for this shift.
Before his mind could go racing down its typical path, they were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. He gave her a lingering look before leaving the kitchen. Aaron had calmed himself down to a soft whimpering; she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Her son looked up at her, hardly impressed with how his day had begun. She placed him in the highchair, thinking some mashed-up banana might improve his mood.
“I heard the fire alarm and I thought you guys might need help.” Hurley was explaining as he and Charlie entered the kitchen.
“No we’re fine mate; it was just a little misadventure with the oven.” Charlie reassured him.
Hurley narrowed his eyes, immediately seeing through his best friend. “You were trying to cook somethin’, weren’t you?”
Claire began to laugh; partly she couldn’t believe their biggest concern was over-sensitive fire alarms. Not so long ago they had feared their lives being taken by the Smoke Monster. People they had come to know as friends had been dropping like flies as they seemed to wait for their death on that never-ending beach.
Now they had fluffy rugs, white-picket fences and indoor plumbing. Claire knew which one she preferred. There were some days when she didn’t think about the plane crash.
“We were about to have breakfast. Do you want some?” Claire offered.
“If you’re making it, sure. If Charlie is - I might have to change my answer.” Hurley replied hesitantly.
“I’m making it.” She promised.
He and Charlie took their seats at the table, with Hurley immediately pulling funny faces at Aaron. Claire collected her robe before getting to work on breakfast. The men were talking as if they had always been there, this was normal for them now.
Claire had never thought she would fit into the role of a domestic goddess like this - preparing a meal for a man and a baby. She had hoped for it, wasn’t it something every little girl dreamt of? But given her track record in romance it was an aspiration she had mostly abandoned. She thought her mum would be proud if she could see her now, so wholesome and finally grown-up. On most days she tried to not think of her mum, it brought too much pain.
“Hey, so did you guys realise it’s our anniversary today?” Hurley announced as they ate their French toast.
Charlie paused from flying a spoonful toward Aaron’s shut mouth. “What are you talking about, anniversary of what?”
“It’s a month since we came here to Otherville.” Hurley clarified. “I bumped into Locke this morning and he told me. That’s weird to think about, huh?”
Claire met Charlie’s eyes across the table and she could tell they were sharing the same thought, they hadn’t noticed the time passing. Each day gave way to a new one without them acknowledging it. Sometimes it seemed as though they had been here for years.
She had almost blocked out the memory of the unpleasant circumstances to bring them here. They had fled from their fellow survivors, fearing the people masquerading as their rescuers. It had hurt separating from most of their friends, not knowing if they would ever see them alive again.
Those inhabiting the barracks hardly talked about their old friends anymore. They had no way of knowing if they had been taken off the island or if they had been slaughtered. Maybe they would never find out and still they slept fine in their comfortable beds.
In the beginning all they had thought about was getting off the island, she had passed up the safety of the caves, so certain of the imminent rescue parties. That had changed, her priorities moving to staying alive. She supposed having her son had caused this. They had found ways of surviving here and leaving had lost its importance.
Of course she wanted to get her son off this insane island. She wanted Aaron to have a normal life and there was no chance of that happening until they got back to civilization.
But more than once she had found the idea of leaving far more frightening than the thought of dying here. Everything was simple here now. She woke up in the morning and cuddled her baby, then spent the day laughing with Charlie. Back in the real world she had been planning to give Aaron away, constantly doubting her abilities as a mother. Charlie lived in England and she in Australia, if not for the plane crash their paths never would have crossed. She was happy with her life, something she had rarely experienced. She thought all of this would be ruined by the real world. Reality always had a way of screwing her over.
That night Claire made her way back to the bedroom with a cup of tea in hand. Aaron was peacefully asleep in his separate room and there weren’t many sounds to be heard from the rest of the village.
Claire tucked her legs beneath the covers and opened the Stephen King novel she was currently working through. Beside her Charlie was rapidly scribbling notes into a book, songs for his comeback record. He hummed melodies as Claire sipped her hot drink.
As she fell asleep in his arms she thought another month here would be nice.
The End.
Rating::..G
Genre::..Fluff
Characters::..Claire, Charlie, Aaron and Hurley
Pairing::..Charlie/Claire
Author’s Note::..I’ve written my fair share of fics with Claire living at the barracks, this time I decided to take Charlie with her. A very fluffy piece of what might have happened had he lived to escape The Looking Glass. I decided to not kill you with details of what happened at the end of season three, this way y’all can just concentrate on the CC goodness.
Summary::..Charlie and Claire play house in the barracks.
The smell of something burning floated into the bedroom where Claire stirred from the grasp of deep sleep. She rolled over, extending her arm across the crumpled bed sheets. Curious for more information she lifted her head from the plush pillow, but Charlie was nowhere to be seen. How strange, he rarely woke up before her. She sat up groggily, the warm blanket falling away from her body as all remained silent in the house.
She wasn’t alerted by the scent of smoke, not after spending so much time around campfires. She didn’t put much thought into the cause until the fire alarm started screeching. Aaron started crying a few seconds later. Any ideas Claire might have held about going back to sleep were immediately destroyed.
“Bloody hell!” Charlie’s voice travelled down the hallway.
Claire got up, readjusting her satin nightgown. Aaron’s cries quietened, suggesting Charlie’s attempts at soothing him. Meanwhile the fire alarm continued singing, growing louder with every step she took. She didn’t rush, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep.
She arrived on the scene to find Charlie climbing onto the counter. He held a red-faced Aaron in one arm. He was reaching toward the noisy device mounted on the roof, his tongue poked into the corner of his lips as he strained, his arm a mere inch away. She thought it would be counterproductive to tell him her preference of a traditional alarm clock over this chaos.
He finally depressed the reset button and the beeping reached its anticlimactic end. Aaron was still voicing his annoyance. Now that Charlie didn’t have any other distractions he could get to work calming the baby. He sat cross-legged where Charlie usually prepared their meals and began to gently bounce Aaron.
“Charlie, what on Earth is going on?” She asked incredulously.
His eyebrows shot up as he whipped around to face her. She almost laughed at his expression, reminded of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “When did you wake up?”
“When you almost burnt the house down.” She teased before holding her arms out. “Here, gi’ me Aaron.”
He passed the squirming baby over to Claire, sliding off the counter. He then crossed the kitchen and started turning the knobs of the oven. Claire pat Aaron’s back as she waited for some answers.
“Sorry.” Charlie said, turning to face her. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed, I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand.”
Her heart swelled and she found his clumsiness endearing again. “You were making me breakfast?” She asked with a smile. “What were you making me?”
“Peanut butter on toast.” He confessed, pulling the top tray out of the oven. On top lie two blackened pieces of toast, no longer edible. “But I never figured out how to use the griller, which is a shame because it was going to be incredibly romantic.”
Aaron was settling, resting his tired head against her chest. She took advantage of this silence, approaching Charlie. “It’s the thought that counts and don’t worry, it’s still seriously romantic.” She pushed her lips to his and his arm encircled her waist.
Nobody had ever made her breakfast in bed before. Or ever tired. She was flattered that he thought she was worth such an effort, she wasn’t worried over having to make her own breakfast as usual.
She trailed her tongue along his lip as they separated, savouring the moment for a little longer. These days perfect encounters like this weren’t reserved for times of desperation or impending doom. Goodbye kisses had become a rarity between them and she was eternally grateful for this shift.
Before his mind could go racing down its typical path, they were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. He gave her a lingering look before leaving the kitchen. Aaron had calmed himself down to a soft whimpering; she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Her son looked up at her, hardly impressed with how his day had begun. She placed him in the highchair, thinking some mashed-up banana might improve his mood.
“I heard the fire alarm and I thought you guys might need help.” Hurley was explaining as he and Charlie entered the kitchen.
“No we’re fine mate; it was just a little misadventure with the oven.” Charlie reassured him.
Hurley narrowed his eyes, immediately seeing through his best friend. “You were trying to cook somethin’, weren’t you?”
Claire began to laugh; partly she couldn’t believe their biggest concern was over-sensitive fire alarms. Not so long ago they had feared their lives being taken by the Smoke Monster. People they had come to know as friends had been dropping like flies as they seemed to wait for their death on that never-ending beach.
Now they had fluffy rugs, white-picket fences and indoor plumbing. Claire knew which one she preferred. There were some days when she didn’t think about the plane crash.
“We were about to have breakfast. Do you want some?” Claire offered.
“If you’re making it, sure. If Charlie is - I might have to change my answer.” Hurley replied hesitantly.
“I’m making it.” She promised.
He and Charlie took their seats at the table, with Hurley immediately pulling funny faces at Aaron. Claire collected her robe before getting to work on breakfast. The men were talking as if they had always been there, this was normal for them now.
Claire had never thought she would fit into the role of a domestic goddess like this - preparing a meal for a man and a baby. She had hoped for it, wasn’t it something every little girl dreamt of? But given her track record in romance it was an aspiration she had mostly abandoned. She thought her mum would be proud if she could see her now, so wholesome and finally grown-up. On most days she tried to not think of her mum, it brought too much pain.
“Hey, so did you guys realise it’s our anniversary today?” Hurley announced as they ate their French toast.
Charlie paused from flying a spoonful toward Aaron’s shut mouth. “What are you talking about, anniversary of what?”
“It’s a month since we came here to Otherville.” Hurley clarified. “I bumped into Locke this morning and he told me. That’s weird to think about, huh?”
Claire met Charlie’s eyes across the table and she could tell they were sharing the same thought, they hadn’t noticed the time passing. Each day gave way to a new one without them acknowledging it. Sometimes it seemed as though they had been here for years.
She had almost blocked out the memory of the unpleasant circumstances to bring them here. They had fled from their fellow survivors, fearing the people masquerading as their rescuers. It had hurt separating from most of their friends, not knowing if they would ever see them alive again.
Those inhabiting the barracks hardly talked about their old friends anymore. They had no way of knowing if they had been taken off the island or if they had been slaughtered. Maybe they would never find out and still they slept fine in their comfortable beds.
In the beginning all they had thought about was getting off the island, she had passed up the safety of the caves, so certain of the imminent rescue parties. That had changed, her priorities moving to staying alive. She supposed having her son had caused this. They had found ways of surviving here and leaving had lost its importance.
Of course she wanted to get her son off this insane island. She wanted Aaron to have a normal life and there was no chance of that happening until they got back to civilization.
But more than once she had found the idea of leaving far more frightening than the thought of dying here. Everything was simple here now. She woke up in the morning and cuddled her baby, then spent the day laughing with Charlie. Back in the real world she had been planning to give Aaron away, constantly doubting her abilities as a mother. Charlie lived in England and she in Australia, if not for the plane crash their paths never would have crossed. She was happy with her life, something she had rarely experienced. She thought all of this would be ruined by the real world. Reality always had a way of screwing her over.
That night Claire made her way back to the bedroom with a cup of tea in hand. Aaron was peacefully asleep in his separate room and there weren’t many sounds to be heard from the rest of the village.
Claire tucked her legs beneath the covers and opened the Stephen King novel she was currently working through. Beside her Charlie was rapidly scribbling notes into a book, songs for his comeback record. He hummed melodies as Claire sipped her hot drink.
As she fell asleep in his arms she thought another month here would be nice.
The End.