Rating:

Mature

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Lost

Relationship:

Jack/Sawyer

Tags:

flash sideways, hand jobs, rare ship swap

Stats:

Posted on:

2015-04-18

Words:

3,181

Jack is never the first one awake. The quiet pull of the waves in the morning always wakes him up to the noiseless campsite, but as he ducks out and under, his eyes immediately go to the hammock at the far side of the campsite – as his eyes usually do, when the sky is clear and the sun is past the shoreline in the distance.

The pain of actually being on the island has dulled over time. Now, it’s combatting the smaller things – survival, stable relationships – that makes him need to get his head clear, out of the places it used to find itself when he’s in the middle of a surgery and thinking about his father. It’s not easy, when sometimes everyone else feels like a child, and Jack is the only one who can keep his rei∂ns on them.

He watches as James turns a page in his book. Adjusts his glasses up his nose, fiddles with them behind his ears. Jack unconsciously breathes out a sigh of – relief, maybe. Watching James go through the motions, run a hand through his hair, tug at a wedgie between the bottom of his pants and the sand. Jack purses his lips and exhales through his nose.

He continues on with his day.

*

“Miles- Miles! Goddammit, Miles, slow down!”

“You told me you wanted us to get there fast,” Miles grumbles, swerving back into the right lane, behind a pickup truck.

Beside him, James is clutching the handlebar and the median, breathing for his dear life. He glares at Miles.

“Not to the point where you nearly get us killed. Jesus.”

“Well then what do you want me to do?” Miles doesn’t sound like he actually wants an instruction; he’s just being the smartass that James never asked for.

“I want us to get to the hospital.” James widens his eyes for emphasis. “Quickly. Without either of us breaking our necks.”

“Well, clearly it’s a one or the other situation.”

“You don’t have to drive like you’re going to kill us,” James points out. “That’s my job.”

Miles pouts all the way to the hospital. When they get there, finally, they disembark in the parking lot and start jogging towards the entrance. As they do, Miles asks sarcastically, “Well how did I do?”

“Efficient,” James replies without venom. “But lose the tone.”

They run in, and the lady at the check-in counter looks at them with disdain. “Cassidy Phillips,” James says, ignoring her scowl.

She replies, “Room 184,” and they take off without a second glance.

James knows he shouldn’t get distracted when Cassidy is like this. He and Miles make their way through the hallways without caring about the doctors and nurses they pass glaring at them; but when they run past one, James almost stops – slows down, at least. Miles doesn’t seem to have noticed.

This – doctor? surgeon? James usually tries not to frequent hospitals too much so he doesn’t really know at first glances – looks kind of familiar, stony face but kind eyes, dark buzz cut, worked hands. It’s amazing how much James takes in in that split second, but it’s almost like his gaze is used to looking at this person. Like he knows where to look, and when.

*

Jack offers to help when James announces he’s going to go collect firewood. James gives him a funny look, and Jack asks, “What, never had anyone offer to help you before?”

It’s not supposed to be as biting as it sounds.

James’s expression just gets even weirder, and he says, “I’m not going to pretend I even understand you half the time, doc.” Jack gets an urge to punch his arm, but that’s probably just going to lead to more weirdness from the both of them.

They go into the forest together. Jack notices how James is careful not to go too far in – or rather, to close to where the bunker used to be. Jack thinks about the wounds that being on this island might’ve created for James. For the both of them. James covering them with his provocations towards Kate.

Jack’s insides jump, but not necessarily in a good way.

He helps James quietly. They’ve learned how to recognize what wood would work best for fires – especially after Kate had taught most of them. Kate had taught them a lot, had helped Claire, had been the rock for all of them, even though Jack is sure most people think that’s his job.

He supposes he doesn’t quite blame James and his – whatever that he has for Kate.

Jack cuts the silence with, “What have you been reading lately?”

James, expectedly, sneers. “Is that any of your business?”

Jack shrugs. “It’s not pertinent to my survival but I was curious.” He continues prowling the ground, waiting for maybe an answer, or at least more.

He can feel James’s gazed fixed on him. “Why are you even out here with me, anyway?” There’s something guarded about his tone, unspoken that Jack wants to claw at.

“Why not?”

“Well I’m sorry doc, but out of everyone here, I’m the last person I’d expect for you to help when we’re alone.”

“Who would you expect me to help?” Jack glances up at him, hoping to see something past James’s steely expression.

James laughs, bitterly. “I know when I’ve been set up for a question, Jack. And you’re not answering mine.”

*

“Shit, dude.”

They’re outside Cassidy’s room. The doctors had let them in to see her – scars all across her face, wounded on her cheek and neck and arm, deep head injuries that made James feel sick when he first saw them. Miles must’ve felt similarly, because several minutes later when the surgeons came in James said, “I’m going to need a minute in the hall,” and Miles had chimed in, “Yeah, same.”

James has his hands together now, forehead resting against them. It’s not even that he’s never seen an injured person before, but it’s Cassidy – who deserves better than this, her shitty soon to be ex-husband, even James, who offered to hold her up financially for as long as he could until she could pick herself back up again.

“‘Shit dude’ yeah,” James says against his hands.

Miles is jittering his feet beside him. James doesn’t have the energy to ask him to stop.

He keeps his head in his hands. Why couldn’t he have been there? Arrested the guy sooner? He knew that Cassidy’s ex-husband was a piece of shit, and not that he should’ve expected her to get so badly injured, but he could’ve at least filed a report of domestic abuse for her. Something.

He realizes he’s mumbling into his hands when Miles says, “James.” And again, James doesn’t have the energy to respond.

They hear footsteps. James doesn’t really pay attention to the sound until Miles says, “James,” again, and this time the warning sounds more for him than against him.

And then there’s another voice, saying, “You okay?”

James looks up. Standing before him is the doctor he’d seen in the hall before, the one with the buzzcut and rough hands, face so clear of stubble like he shaves during his lunch breaks. James doesn’t even know why he thinks this, because the doctor is holding out a candy bar to him, and smiling.

“Sometimes eating sweet food helps me with stress,” the doctor says. “And you look like you’re stressed.”

James takes the bar, eyes the doctor carefully. “Thanks,” he says.

The doctor takes a glance towards James’s jacket. “You’re a cop.”

“Excellent observation, doc.” James turns to Miles and rolls his eyes. He’s not exactly hiding it from the doctor – maybe it’ll make him go away. That’s James’s usual instinct, although another part of him would rather him not. Would like to find out why he feels so at ease with this stranger already.

“I do have good observational skills,” says the doctor. “And you can call me Doctor Shephard, if you’d like. Or Jack.”

He scratches behind his head.

James continues staring at him.

Doctor Shephard exhales through his nose. “Anyway, do you want to talk about what you’re.” He gestures vaguely to the closed door of Cassidy’s room.

James hates sharing with strangers. Especially when these strangers appear near out of nowhere and offer him food and start talking to him like they’ve known each other for decades. It’s none of his business.

James starts unwrapping the candy bar.

*

James pushes him up against a tree, making Jack drop all his firewood. James has already dropped his.

“Do not,” James seethes, “mock me.”

It’s hard to say that Jack wasn’t, because it’s kind of hard not to, when James spews out cliche lines like, “How about for a kiss?” and Kate reiterates them to Jack hours later over the campfire and they both laugh. Everything’s funny when he talks to Kate about them.

But Jack says, “I’m not,” and James says, “You were,” and Jack says, “Really, I wasn’t.”

So James leans in and does, does kiss him, too rough against the tree bark and the stubble on his chin scratches against Jack’s and Jack straightens himself, closes his eyes.

James is trying so hard to be aggressive. He tries, opening his mouth right away, and Jack keeps his lips closed, putting his hands on James’s shoulders to calm him down. James’s lips are big and soft against his, and Jack tugs at his bottom lip tenderly with his own. When he grazes his teeth James lets out this little noise like he thinks Jack is being unfair.

And he pulls away sooner than Jack would like. But Jack tries to not let that disappointment show.

“I told you I was being serious,” he says.

James is red in the cheeks and lips, and knowing that that’s his doing makes Jack regret it a little less.

“Well gee, I didn’t expect you to be so forward then.”

“I am a forward person,” says Jack, and James laughs.

“Yeah, and I’m Scooby Doo,” he says. “I mean, really, me? Out of everyone else on this island?”

James steps forward and tilts his head, like he’s trying to read Jack’s mind. Jack is kind of torn if he’d let him or not.

“Kate?” James adds.

“I could say the same for you,” Jack points out. “And it’s not always about me and Kate. Or me and anyone. Or you. I mean, it is about you.”

“Stop,” says James, loudly. “You’re pulling some sappy romantic bullshit on me and I don’t like it.”

Jack shifts on his spot, his back still against the tree. James is pacing, almost, like he can’t handle Jack. The strange mutuality that neither of them need to talk about.

Jack is half-aching in his pants, but decide not to mention it.

*

Doctor Shephard comes back out and says, “She lost quite a lot of blood in addition to her concussion, so she’ll be out for a bit. But it’s nothing we can’t fix.”

James breathes through his nose, anyway.

“Well that’s good news,” Miles says, glancing between the two of them. “Right?”

Doctor Shephard nods. “Injuries are injuries. It may be fatal, but that’s what we’re – they’re here for.” He jerks his head back into the room. “And I’ll just say – on behalf of our hospital, anyway – that we have some pretty damn good doctors.” He smiles.

James nods. He’s still staring at his shoes and folded hands. He’s already finished the candy bar, and as soon as he – or Miles – gets back to the station, they’re going to file a report against Cassidy’s husband.

James isn’t sure if he’s in the mindset for that, though.

He can feel Doctor Shephard’s worrying gaze – the doc doesn’t know how to be subtle, evidently. Either that, or he’s not really trying. Miles is shifting in his seat like they’re having a silent conversation without him, even though James doesn’t really consider himself to be a part of this silent conversation.

After a while – maybe a minute or two – Doctor Shephard says, “Maybe I can treat you two to something to ease the stress?”

James doesn’t look up still. He doesn’t answer, either.

He feels Miles jump up from next to him, like a little puppy. “I should go back to the station, actually,” he says. “File a report against that asshole, you know. All that technical stuff.”

James tries to sigh imperceptibly. In his mind he imagines Doctor Shephard nodding at Miles.

Miles says, “Are you coming, James, or are you gonna walk back?”

“I can drive him if he wants to stay for a little bit longer,” Doctor Shephard offers.

Miles says, “James?” as if to get a confirmation.

James puts the back of his thumbs against his lips, as if he’s kissing them. “Yeah,” he says. His eyes are closed. “I’ll – see you at the station later.”

He feels Miles’s wary stare. “Alright, boss,” Miles says. His sneakers begin to squeak on the hospital floor. “Stay safe.”

James opens his eyes as Miles walks away. Doctor Shephard is still standing, and James says, “You on break or something? Is that why you’re takin’ this time to socialize with some strangers and ask them out on dates?”

Doctor Shephard shrugs. “Something like that,” he says. He’s still in his scrubs. “But if we are going on that date, I’ll need some time to change out of these, first.”

James wants to ask him if he can’t take no for an answer, before James realizes that he hasn’t actually said no to Doctor Shephard and kind of doesn’t want to.

“Well I got time too,” he grumbles, and Doctor Shephard beams.

*

James breathes lowly like he’s conscious of it. Jack traces a hand over James’s nipple, down to his ribs, and James’s breath evens out.

Jack laughs against him. “Calm down,” he says.

James positively growls. “How am I supposed to be calm,” he says, “when my dick is very hard and can feel your dick too?”

They’re in the caves that Jack had stayed at before, while James had been on the beach. Way back when, when they’d first decided what to do on the island, and everything James said bit at Jack and his ego and his heart.

Now the only thing James bites is Jack’s neck, drawing out groans as Jack slides his hands down to unbutton James’s jeans, push between his skin and underwear. They both let out simultaneous low noises when Jack gets a hand around James, and James sucks hard at Jack’s tongue.

“Let me, let me,” James says against him, and pushes at Jack’s hips.

Jack moves from his side to his back, in case James just wants to reach over and they jerk each other off. Instead, James climbs above him, pushes him against the stone and half-wet ground.

Jack chuckles and says, “Ow.”

“Sorry, doc.”

“I told you,” says Jack, as James bends down to kiss at his neck. James begins sucking, which apparently he’s overly fond and overly good at it. Jack has to remember what he told James.

“I told you,” he says again, “you gotta stop calling me that.”

But he doesn’t really mind it too much, when James says, “Stop calling you what, doc?” in a teasing, breathy tone.

Jack still has his hand around James’s dick, brushes his thumb over the tip. James slips his own hand into Jack’s pants, not breaking the kiss. It’s dark so when Jack opens his eyes the lighter parts of James’s face are obstructed. Maybe James does this on purpose so Jack can’t see that he’s better than he thinks. But Jack knows.

They get each other off slowly, Jack struggling to make noise against James’s mouth, James practically holding it in and releasing through the lazy wandering of his lips against Jack’s, on Jack’s face.

James murmurs, against him, as his breath quickens, throat making short noises too much for him to stop, “Pretty sure you’re one of the best things that happened to me on this island.”

Jack laughs. Jack laughs, and James’s hand gets tighter on him, and his breath hitches.

“Who’s the one pulling sappy romantic bullshit now?”

“Pretty sure I’m pulling something else,” James growls, and Jack has to close his eyes to laugh, to come.

*

James had expected Jack to take them to the hospital cafeteria, or at least the shitty diner around the corner. Instead Jack takes them to a cafe like they’re in high school and don’t know where else to eat. James tries not to make fun of him for it.

“Starbucks, really.”

“I always come here during my breaks,” Jack says defensively.

James wants to push more, like what, does Jack always order a croissant and a soy chai during his breaks too. (That’s what James usually gets.) But he doesn’t, and they wait in line to order. James bounces on his feet.

Jack asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m trying to distract myself from something important,” says James.

“That seems to be the case.”

“Yeah,” James grumbles, and settles back on his heels. Miles’s habits are rubbing off on him, apparently. He hopes Jack doesn’t think he’s hyper-energetic.

They order and find some couches by the window. James stares at the passing cars as they sit down, and Jack watches across from him.

“She’ll be okay,” says Jack.

“Yeah.” James’s mind feels a little bit empty, like maybe this distraction is working. Maybe the doctor is magical or something. Maybe it’s just the different environment, shifting from the hospital to this cliche as fuck coffee shop, going on this weird coffee date with a stranger who doesn’t feel like a stranger.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks, again. He takes a sip of his drink.

James chuckles and looks at him. Jack has changed from the scrubs to a jacket and shirt and trousers. James wonders what it’s like for other people to see him like this every day.

“You don’t gotta keep asking me that,” James says. “If she’s gonna be fine, I’ll be fine. If you’re fine, I’m fine. And so on.”

“You sound like me.” Jack sets his drink down.

“Ooh, I don’t want that.”

Jack laughs. James can’t help himself from a smile, too. The cars outside the window keep going past, and the glass feels like a bubble that they’re watching from far away. Like the world is slower, waiting, between them.

“You know how you feel like you’ve met someone before?” Jack says suddenly, and James meets his eyes. There’s something waiting in them, too, and James feels warm and jumpy all around, even though he doesn’t feel like he needs to. Jack is watching him like he wants to ask to see him tomorrow, to pick up where they might’ve left off in another life, and James’s neck is hot in all the best ways like he might say, like he says, “Yes.”