Title: Sawyer Gets Exactly What He Wants, the Schemeing Bastard - 1/?
Author: The wichetty grub worm
Fandom: Lost
feedback: yes
disclaimer: yada
pairing: probably charlie/?jack but I just pulled this out me bum just now so who knows.
rating: this chap - pg-13 for adult themes I guess. hate ratings.
no warnings you shouldn't already expect from slash
a/n: I just thought of this whilst cooking a can of spam. Don't know where its going, but will probably lead to slash (all roads lead to slash) nc-17 style, though I fully intend to stick to first season canon and stay clear of the naughty language because ABC doesn't allow that kind of talk and I find it funny when the characters have to say things like "you stinking bum pirate" instead of the more plausible language. I think it would be a better show if they could swear, but since they can't, I wont. I think. I'm not sure I can make it nc-17 without the language though. This will be an experiment then I guess.
A/N 2: I doubt I'll ever finish this. I had quite a bit more of this story saved, then lost a bunch of it because of hdd failure, then rewrote much of what I lost, but you knwo how its never the same. And teh series has changed so much from when I started this, I don't know if I could continue on in the same spirit. I find it difficult to ignore canon completely, but this would have to be a total AU if I finished it. Oh well. Here is what I have of it.
Sawyer Gets Exactly What He Wants, the Scheming Bastard
“Who was the best shag you ever had?”
It was a departure from 'I Never', but after so long, they couldn't think of any more things any of them hadn't done. 'Truth or Dare' seemed a logical replacement for the nightly fireside game. That and a lack of alcoholic beverages kind of made 'I Never' less fun.
“Dare.”
“What? Come on! That's an easy one. It's not like I'm asking you what brand of dildo you like to stick up y' bum. You could make it up and no one would ever know!” Charlie squealed, indignant, frustrated.
Sayid took a sip from his water bottle and remained stoicly and aggrivatingly silent. Jack tongued a bit of boar that was stuck in his teeth to cover his amused grin while Claire covered hers with giggly coos at her lap full of sleeping baby. Everybody else just looked sort of tired, a stark contrast to the jittery brit.
Shannon regarded Charlie with mild disaste on her face.
Charlie sighed and flung a twig into the fire. “Fine. I dare you to...” he looked around him for inspiration, “...bang two halves a coconut together and quote Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
Peals of laughter rang out through the cave along with a few grumbles from people who were trying to sleep nearby.
“I've never seen it,” Sayid said simply through the cacaphony in that accent that, well. Charlie wanted to wrap his tongue around that accent, but that wasn't going to happen, and it looked like he wasn't going to have any other fun with the guy either. Not if Shannon had anything to say about it. That girl was scary. Charlie wasn't afraid of the enigmatic and secretive John Locke, the hot tempered Jin, or even Sayid and his sketchy past. He thought that was probably part of the allure of Sayid for him actually. But even if Sayid came on to him one day, he'd think twice about it. Think twice about Shannon trying to blow his head off.
“Sayid, man, you're really lousey at this game. It's only fun if you give of yourself, you know?” he said with an overly passionate gesture of his hands in front of his chest. Sayid looked like Spock with long hair and dark skin, tattered twenty-first century clothes, round ears. Ok, so maybe it was just the raised eyebrow and smug complacence that was Spockish.
“Well I think I'm about ready for bed,” Jack groaned, pivoting his legs away from the fire and getting up. Charlie watched the tendons behind his knee as they stiffened and then disspeared into Jack's brown legs.
“Yeah, I should put Aaron to bed, too.”
Most of the others made similar sympathetic noises indicating they'd had enough of the failed attempt at entertainment as well and started to trickle off to their cubbyholes and sandy matresses, leaving alone Charlie, who had started the game, by the dying fire with his boredom and agitation, his excess energy.
He sat, petulant and moody, watching little flaming dirvishes in the red embers appear and dissapear and listening to the whistling of the burning damp wood and the similar sounds of insects and who knows what else in the tree canopy overhead. He needed something to do. He couldn't sleep. Too wound up, his mind wouldn't shut off. It had been stuck in fifth gear for days now, maybe weeks. Even if he did manage to fall asleep the baby would just wake him up like he did every night.
“Iggy.” Charlie's shoulders tensed at the sound behind him. The man never uses a nickname twice, it seems. But he's more likely to use one if you approach him, or if he's not expecting to see you, talk to you, if he doesn't know what you want. It's disarming, is what it is. He does it to throw you off. Some people need more throwing off than others, so they have a longer list of nicknames. Kate's is looking like a queue of perverts waiting for a free peep show starring Camron Diaz and an hermaphroditic midget. Charlie's isn't quite as long as that, nor are his as unflattering as some of the names on Sayid's docket, but they're still annoying.
He came from the bushes and shuffled into the middle of the campsite quietly in jeans and dirty teeshirt, carrying a backpack loosely in one hand. Didn't look very heavy.
“Sawyer. How are you this evening,” he said blandly.
“Well, I think I'm doing alright, how 'bout yourself.”
“Fantastic. What's brought you away from your little beach compound?”
“Oh, you know, this and that. Fill up the water jug,” he said, hefting the bag once, “Spy on the neighbors, that sort of thing.”
“Oh yeah? Get any good dirt on anyone?”
“Nah, not really. Nothing new learned tonight anyway.” He settled in on the ground, crouching and then shifting his hips to plant himself lop-sided and temporary across from Charlie with the little fire between them. He looked around him briefly and then lowered his voice a little. “I can tell you one thing you might want to know though.”
“What's that?” Charlie asked obliginly, though he doubted he actually wanted to hear it.
“There's a reason Captain Falafel wouldn't answer your probative questions tonight,” he said with a tiny toss of his head and that damned little smirk.
Ok. Charlie would bite at that. “Which is?”
“Well, you asked him exactly the wrong question, Chucky.” Charlie couldn't totally restrain the roll of his eyes. “You asked him who was the best lay of his life with the little Princess sitting right there next to him.”
“So what? Why didn't he just say 'her' then? Whether it was true or not it would have made her happy and it would have been an answer and everybody would have been a lot more entertained for it and I wouldn't be sitting here bored out of my skull.”
“Maybe he couldn't say that.”
“Why couldn't he?”
“Maybe they're not sleeping together?”
Charlie paused on that a moment. “Come on. She's always hanging on him, they're always grooming each other like friggin' monkeys. They have to be shagging by now.”
“Well they're not.”
This was not helping his exasperation. “Ok, so fine, they're not. Why didn't he just say something else? Throw out any name that sounded plausable. What's so hard about that?”
“Well, I have a theory on that one too.”
“Oh please, do tell.” Charlie dropped his chin into his hands, scowling.
“I believe he couldn't say another name because that had the potential to offend the person on the
island who he has been screwing, and he couldn't give that person's name without revealing something that most people don't want to come out as a result of a stupid game of Truth or Dare.”
Charlie eyed Sawyer's red cast face over the coals. “How long were you out there listening to us?”
“Long enough for a guy like Sayid to know I was there.”
Charlie paused. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Aaah!” Sawyer made a pleased and curious, 'woo-doggies' sort of hillbilly sound. “Now you're asking the right questions.” He grinned menacingly.
Charlie was stewing in his clothes. It was incomfortably warm, yes, but he also rather hated Sawyer and his stupid head games. That hatred was totally at odds, however, with Charlie's desire to throw the man to the sand, sit on his chest and make him work just to breath while he swallowed him whole. God he needed sex. And if Sawyer was hinting at what Charlie thought he was hinting at, well...
“I'm telling you this because I like you Charlie.” The 'like' wasn't very convincing, but it also didn't sound like it was supposed to be. “I didn't much like your little band, but since that's all in the past and none of us is ever going to see the inside of a Pringles can ever again, I think maybe you and I could be friends.” Still smiling.
Charlie just sat still. He was having a hard time thinking clearly about this. He was thrumming inside and agitated, but at least some sensible part of him was still focused on not giving Sawyer anything to work with. Whatever it was, he was not interested. He wasn't even going to ask.
“And since we're friends, I want to help you out. Sayid's not particularly attached to this person he's sleeping with, I happen to know, so he continues to string poor little Shannon along. Now that's one thing I hate to see. Women being exploited, their giving, trusting nature's taken advantage of.” Charlie tried not to laugh out loud at the idea of Shannon being giving or of Sawyer being altruistic. “She deserves better than that Arab bastard is going to give her.”
“I see. So its out of the goodness of your heart that you're telling me this in hopes that maybe I'll distract him for a while?”
“I think its the least I can do for our poor, lost, bereived Shannon. And it would take care of your boredom problem,” he said blandly. Charlie wasn't going to dignify that with a response.
Sawyer sat only a moment more. “Well,” he said, and stood easily. “I should get going.” He filled his water bottles from the pool quietly, zipped them into his backpack and slipped into the jungle.
Charlie let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. All in all, it didn't sound all that bad, and he wondered if his hard-on could really cloud his judgement so much that he wouldn't be able to tell if there was something wrong with it. Sawyer and Charlie, assuming he could pull Sayid (ok that might be tricky but Charlie was nothing if not persistant), would both get what they want. Sayid...wouldn't be sleeping with Sawyer. That had to be an improvement for him, no matter who he shacked up with in exchange, and Shannon...well...Shannon...Bugger Shannon. Stupid bint. She and Sawyer deserve each other.
~*~
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