Fic: Desmond/Sayid for cynthia_arrow
Title: Turning The Tide.
Pairing: Desmond/Sayid. (with implied Charlie/Desmond & Charlie/Sayid)
Rating: PG-13 (Ho hum, I tried!)
Summary: There are many ways to forget.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never will.
Notes: A belated birthday fic for cynthia_arrow who wanted Desmond/Sayid. Thus I have attempted to give it to her. Contains the vaguest of vague spoilers for 'One Of Us'. Big thanks to zelda_zee for the beta.
Turning The Tide
"Charlie informs me that you are his guardian angel."
The night is too dark for Desmond to see Sayid clearly. He’s backlit by the fading flames of a fire that burns nearby, making him look more like a shadow than a man. But Desmond doesn’t need light to know that one of Sayid’s eyebrows will be raised just slightly and his face will be set in an expression that says ‘convince me, if you dare’. He’s about to reply when he catches sight of the outline of a bottle in Sayid’s hand and he realises that the swaying of the shadow-man in front of him has nothing to do with the darkness and flames playing tricks with his eyes and everything to do with Sayid being drunk.
"You should sit down before you fall down, brother."
Desmond gestures to a spot inside the makeshift collection of bamboo, palm fronds and tarpaulins that he calls home and then waits, watching as Sayid slowly raises the bottle and takes a swig before lurching forward, almost falling as he drops down to his knees, landing on the sand with a soft thud.
"This," Sayid waves the bottle in the air between them, "is quite vile. I’m not sure I understand the point of drinking so much of it."
Desmond can just about make out the Dharma logo on the label of the bottle Sayid is clutching and from the shape of it he can tell it’s what Dharma feels passes for wine. He’s drunk enough of it himself to know all too well that Sayid’s assessment of its quality is painfully correct.
"The point, brother, is that it helps you forget, or remember, depending on what your reasons for drinking were in the first place."
There’s silence for a moment and then when Sayid speaks his voice is so quiet that Desmond has to lean forward to catch his words.
"I wish to forget."
Desmond knows the answer to his question before he asks it, but he asks it anyway. "How’s that working out for you?"
"Not well." Sayid raises the bottle up to study it, the distant fire making the liquid inside seem to glow, "It appears to be having the opposite effect."
"Aye, they don’t call it the demon drink for nothing." Another thing that Desmond is all too familiar with.
"There was an incident with Juliet," Sayid spits the names out like the taste of it is bitter on his tongue, "Sawyer suggested that alcohol would makes things... easier."
Sayid falls silent, lost in his thoughts and Desmond finds that he’s not sure what to say. He doesn’t know Sayid well enough to ask for details - that would seem like prying, opening old wounds that Sayid clearly wishes would heal. So he focuses on the first thing Sayid said to him, trying to discover if that was what prompted his visit.
"I don’t want to come between you and Charlie if that’s what you’re worried about." Desmond knows about the history between the two of them. Charlie is not one to keep quiet about such things.
"Charlie can do as he wishes," Sayid shrugs his shoulders as he speaks, as though what he is saying should be obvious. "I have no claim on him."
"The two of you are close though. He talks about you like you’re his hero." And from the things that Charlie has told him, Desmond can understand why Charlie talks about Sayid the way he does.
"I fear Charlie is too easily impressed." Sayid laughs as he speaks, a hollow sound that’s more disbelief than humour.
"If he’s calling me a guardian angel then you might well be right." Desmond echoes Sayid’s laughter, his own sounding just as hollow and unsure. "I’m more like the angel of death."
"You give him hope." There’s defeat in Sayid’s voice, "That’s not something I can give him."
"Is that what you’re searching for at the bottom of that bottle, brother? Hope?" Desmond prays for Sayid’s sake it isn’t.
"No, not hope." Sayid pauses, searching for the right word, "Forgiveness. Or perhaps courage."
"What do you need courage for?"
At first, when Sayid sways forward towards him, Desmond thinks it’s simply the alcohol and the lateness of the hour. But when he feels the first tentative brush of Sayid’s lips pressing against his own he knows it is deliberate. It’s so unexpected that he reacts purely from instinct, reaching out and pulling Sayid closer, angling his head so that when Sayid kisses him again their mouths are perfectly aligned and Desmond can allow himself to sink into the moment -- into the feel of another lonely soul reaching out for what little comfort he can take. He can taste the sharp tang of wine on Sayid’s lips, stronger when they part and the kiss deepens, their tongues tangling, lips sliding open-mouthed and needy. There’s a desperation to Sayid’s kisses that Desmond can sense lingering just below the surface, waiting to be set free and suddenly he needs to know why this is happening, why Sayid is here.
Desmond pulls back, breaking the contact between them, staring at Sayid intently as he speaks.
"It’s not that I’m not flattered, but I have to ask, why me?"
"Charlie told me that when he is with you he no longer feels afraid. He is able to forget. I should like to forget for a while." Sayid looks away, beginning to withdraw into himself again.
"And in the morning..." Desmond lets the words hang in the air, wanting to reach out to Sayid again to calm him, but his hand feels frozen in place.
"In the morning I will have a headache and I will regret taking Sawyer’s advice." Sayid looks up, a weak smile just visible on his face.
"That’s not what I meant, brother." This time Desmond does reach out, stroking a hand gently down the length of Sayid’s arm.
"In the morning I will still remember all the things I am trying so hard not to recall, but they will not seem so vivid, so hopeless. And," Sayid leans forward, his hand coming up to cup Desmond’s face in a way that he cannot resist leaning into. "I will have a new memory to focus on, one that I will not regret."
Pairing: Desmond/Sayid. (with implied Charlie/Desmond & Charlie/Sayid)
Rating: PG-13 (Ho hum, I tried!)
Summary: There are many ways to forget.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never will.
Notes: A belated birthday fic for cynthia_arrow who wanted Desmond/Sayid. Thus I have attempted to give it to her. Contains the vaguest of vague spoilers for 'One Of Us'. Big thanks to zelda_zee for the beta.
Turning The Tide
"Charlie informs me that you are his guardian angel."
The night is too dark for Desmond to see Sayid clearly. He’s backlit by the fading flames of a fire that burns nearby, making him look more like a shadow than a man. But Desmond doesn’t need light to know that one of Sayid’s eyebrows will be raised just slightly and his face will be set in an expression that says ‘convince me, if you dare’. He’s about to reply when he catches sight of the outline of a bottle in Sayid’s hand and he realises that the swaying of the shadow-man in front of him has nothing to do with the darkness and flames playing tricks with his eyes and everything to do with Sayid being drunk.
"You should sit down before you fall down, brother."
Desmond gestures to a spot inside the makeshift collection of bamboo, palm fronds and tarpaulins that he calls home and then waits, watching as Sayid slowly raises the bottle and takes a swig before lurching forward, almost falling as he drops down to his knees, landing on the sand with a soft thud.
"This," Sayid waves the bottle in the air between them, "is quite vile. I’m not sure I understand the point of drinking so much of it."
Desmond can just about make out the Dharma logo on the label of the bottle Sayid is clutching and from the shape of it he can tell it’s what Dharma feels passes for wine. He’s drunk enough of it himself to know all too well that Sayid’s assessment of its quality is painfully correct.
"The point, brother, is that it helps you forget, or remember, depending on what your reasons for drinking were in the first place."
There’s silence for a moment and then when Sayid speaks his voice is so quiet that Desmond has to lean forward to catch his words.
"I wish to forget."
Desmond knows the answer to his question before he asks it, but he asks it anyway. "How’s that working out for you?"
"Not well." Sayid raises the bottle up to study it, the distant fire making the liquid inside seem to glow, "It appears to be having the opposite effect."
"Aye, they don’t call it the demon drink for nothing." Another thing that Desmond is all too familiar with.
"There was an incident with Juliet," Sayid spits the names out like the taste of it is bitter on his tongue, "Sawyer suggested that alcohol would makes things... easier."
Sayid falls silent, lost in his thoughts and Desmond finds that he’s not sure what to say. He doesn’t know Sayid well enough to ask for details - that would seem like prying, opening old wounds that Sayid clearly wishes would heal. So he focuses on the first thing Sayid said to him, trying to discover if that was what prompted his visit.
"I don’t want to come between you and Charlie if that’s what you’re worried about." Desmond knows about the history between the two of them. Charlie is not one to keep quiet about such things.
"Charlie can do as he wishes," Sayid shrugs his shoulders as he speaks, as though what he is saying should be obvious. "I have no claim on him."
"The two of you are close though. He talks about you like you’re his hero." And from the things that Charlie has told him, Desmond can understand why Charlie talks about Sayid the way he does.
"I fear Charlie is too easily impressed." Sayid laughs as he speaks, a hollow sound that’s more disbelief than humour.
"If he’s calling me a guardian angel then you might well be right." Desmond echoes Sayid’s laughter, his own sounding just as hollow and unsure. "I’m more like the angel of death."
"You give him hope." There’s defeat in Sayid’s voice, "That’s not something I can give him."
"Is that what you’re searching for at the bottom of that bottle, brother? Hope?" Desmond prays for Sayid’s sake it isn’t.
"No, not hope." Sayid pauses, searching for the right word, "Forgiveness. Or perhaps courage."
"What do you need courage for?"
At first, when Sayid sways forward towards him, Desmond thinks it’s simply the alcohol and the lateness of the hour. But when he feels the first tentative brush of Sayid’s lips pressing against his own he knows it is deliberate. It’s so unexpected that he reacts purely from instinct, reaching out and pulling Sayid closer, angling his head so that when Sayid kisses him again their mouths are perfectly aligned and Desmond can allow himself to sink into the moment -- into the feel of another lonely soul reaching out for what little comfort he can take. He can taste the sharp tang of wine on Sayid’s lips, stronger when they part and the kiss deepens, their tongues tangling, lips sliding open-mouthed and needy. There’s a desperation to Sayid’s kisses that Desmond can sense lingering just below the surface, waiting to be set free and suddenly he needs to know why this is happening, why Sayid is here.
Desmond pulls back, breaking the contact between them, staring at Sayid intently as he speaks.
"It’s not that I’m not flattered, but I have to ask, why me?"
"Charlie told me that when he is with you he no longer feels afraid. He is able to forget. I should like to forget for a while." Sayid looks away, beginning to withdraw into himself again.
"And in the morning..." Desmond lets the words hang in the air, wanting to reach out to Sayid again to calm him, but his hand feels frozen in place.
"In the morning I will have a headache and I will regret taking Sawyer’s advice." Sayid looks up, a weak smile just visible on his face.
"That’s not what I meant, brother." This time Desmond does reach out, stroking a hand gently down the length of Sayid’s arm.
"In the morning I will still remember all the things I am trying so hard not to recall, but they will not seem so vivid, so hopeless. And," Sayid leans forward, his hand coming up to cup Desmond’s face in a way that he cannot resist leaning into. "I will have a new memory to focus on, one that I will not regret."