halfdutch (halfdutch) wrote,

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Slippery Slope (Shannon, Boone, Sawyer) R

Title: Slippery Slope
Rating: R
Note: Written for the Hidden Connections ficathon for lillyjk who wanted Boone riding to the rescue to save Shannon from Sawyer, with Sawyer/Boone sex or UST but no Sawyer/Shannon sex.

The girl had been in the bathroom for a while now. What was she doing in there anyway, snorting coke? He laid back on the hideous gold and purple bedspread and tapped out a cigarette from his pack. Nearly empty. He’d gone too long between cons, was getting too close to the red. But this pretty little thing - this pretty rich little thing - was mighty promising.

Picking her up was easy. Getting her into bed, which wasn’t essential, really, was proving a little harder.

She -- Shannon he thought she’d said -- was young, blonde, and pretty, but it was a brittle kind of beauty that she protected with a hard, withering expression that kept most men away, or at least made them think twice about approaching her. She looked bored sitting in that anonymous harbor bar, nursing her Long Island Iced Tea, the kind of boredom you only got when you had too much money and too much time on your hands.

Sawyer had disarmed her with a smile, one he could administer with practiced ease. He glanced her way as if by accident and then let his gaze linger lightly, appraisingly. Then he gave her that half smile that was almost a wink as he nodded ever so slightly. She didn’t blush, like so many other woman who were on the receiving end of those deep-set dimples. She didn’t get flustered or try to play it coy. She just smiled back, a tight, knowing little smile that on anyone else might be annoyance, but on her, looked like a welcome mat.

He’d walked over and sat next to her and paid for her next drink and all too easily she was in his car and driving back to his motel with him, easing in and out of his sports car, swinging those gorgeous long legs she was clearly proud of showing off.

She leaned against him as he unlocked the hotel room door and he slipped one arm around her waist. She wasn’t drunk but he didn’t need her to be drunk. He didn’t need her to be anything except gullible.

Still, a little more booze wouldn’t hurt. He was pouring out vodka shots when her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and answered with a short, hostile “What?” Followed by a hissed “None of your business!” She hung up with a flourish and a frown. “My stupid brother. He needs to know where I am every minute.”

She marched over to the table and grabbed a glass and knocked back the vodka without flinching. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she announced and he waved his hand towards the door.

That had been -- he checked his watch - 25 minutes ago. He felt his interest cooling. Being kept waiting was never high on his list of turn-ons. But if she was as loaded as he hoped, he could be patient. He took a deep drag off his cigarette, his third in a row, and turned on the TV.

She finally emerged and he nearly dropped the remote. Her face now looked purplish around the eyes and it wasn’t just misapplied eyeshadow. She looked like she’d been beaten.

“Jesus, girl, you mind telling me what the hell you’re up to?”

She smiled, but the action of her mouth didn’t touch her eyes. They remained cold and hard. “Here’s the deal. My brother is on his way over.” She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “By now he knows I’m with some disreputable looking stranger and he’s going to want to get me out of here. But I’m not ready to go because you’ve got a temper.”

Sawyer got to his feet, walking over to take a closer look at her handiwork. “You do this all the time, sweetheart? Because this is not a kind of game I like to play.”

That withering stare was back in place. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time to explain. He’s coming sooner than I expected. Just play along and I’ll make it worth your while.” She stopped and licked her lips. “Say, $3,000?”

“Three thousand to pretend I’ve been beating you?” He grabbed her, pulling her to him roughly by her upper arms. “How do you know I wouldn’t do that for free?”

That hard look on her face wavered. She swallowed, looking fearfully into his angry face. “You ..., you wouldn’t,” she said, going pale under that spray-on tan.

His mouth curled contemptuously. “I don’t beat women, got that?” She cowered and nodded, her eyes going wide and starting to tear up. He realized he was shaking her and let go. She rubbed her arms where his hands had been and where the skin bore the imprint of his fingers. She was still pale but now she had a smirk on her face.

He wondered if she had been trying to get him to hit her. The thought made him queasy, and it was followed by the idea that maybe this was some kind of setup at his expense and not this clueless brother of hers. And then he wondered why he had ever considered her pretty.

“You’re takin’ a mighty big chance on someone you don’t know at all,” he started to say when there came an angry banging on the door.

“I know you’re in there, Shannon. Open up.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Three thousand,” she whispered.

“Make it ten.”



The banging resumed. “I’m going to call the police if you don’t open this door,” the petulant voice outside was saying.

“OK,” she nodded finally, shooting him a hateful look. “Seven.”

“OK, then.” He shoved her into the bathroom before she could protest. “Stay put,” he said in a low voice and turned to open the front door.

Angry blue eyes stared into his as he and brother dear sized each other up. Clearly, if anyone was going to get his ass whupped in this situation, it was Pretty Boy here. He was at least a head taller and 30 lbs heavier than this pouting male model.

Pretty Boy was straining at him like a toy poodle held back by a leash and Sawyer just smiled. “C’mon in,” he said, opening the door wide and spreading his arm magnanimously.

The brother stormed in and looked around the empty room. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Bathroom,” Sawyer answered coolly, leaning up against the bathroom door. “Not decent enough to receive visitors.”

He was rewarded with a savage glare. Junior here looked about ready to erupt. “You’re just a type to her. Except maybe even lower than the kinds of guys she usually goes for.” Pretty Boy raked him over head to toe with a knowing sneer.

“Well, now, that wounds me, son,” Sawyer said, nice and slow, knowing it would infuriate him even more.

“Don’t call me son. My name’s Boone.”

Sawyer didn’t offer his name -- and why the hell did he need to know Pretty Boy’s? He just shrugged and leaned back farther. “If you want me to leave ...”

“It’s going to cost me?” Boone sighed. “Yeah, I figured.” He reached for his wallet, then drew his hand back out, empty. “But first I need to make sure Shannon’s OK.” He walked closer to Sawyer. “Let me by.”

“No.” Sawyer didn’t budge and Pretty Boy just stepped closer, until they were practically nose to nose, or rather, nose to chin, seeing as how Boone was on the short side.

“Let me in,” Boone insisted, putting a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder as if he could shove him aside. Those high, red patches on his cheeks were getting redder and Sawyer could see his pulse racing in his throat. Yes, Male Model was close to losing it.

Sawyer cocked an eyebrow. “Say pretty please.” He didn’t know why, but he was enjoying this, and when he saw the boy nervously lick his lips, he suddenly knew. Somewhere in the last five minutes, Pretty Boy had taken a liking to him, one he was desperately trying to suppress. But Sawyer had learned to read people like other folks read a love letter and he knew when someone was interested. This situation had become a lot more intriguing.

Instinctively, he leaned a little closer and Boone caught his breath. Let the kid think he was going to ...

And then he nearly fell backwards because the bathroom door was opening inward.

Shit. The girl was going to blow her own setup. It was like she’d realized that a whole minute had gone by without either of them thinking of her and she had to remedy that.

“Shannon!” The shock registered on Boone’s face. Sawyer swiveled to look at her and now besides the fake bruises, she’d added red, puffy eyes. “Jesus, what did he do to you?”

He was pushing past Sawyer now and taking her in his arms and cooing over her. She trembled like a hurt bird. She was a good little actress. He’d give her that.

Boone turned and looked at him with murder in his eyes. “You lousy ...”
and then he swung at Sawyer, missing by a mile and Sawyer blocked him, connecting with Pretty Boy’s lip, sending blood over his crisp white shirt.

Shannon gasped and fluttered to his side, glaring at Sawyer.

“How dare you?” she shrieked.

“Oh, so is the deal off now, princess?” he yelled. Both of their heads jerked up.

“Deal?” Boone asked, eyes narrowing. “What deal?”

Shannon shot him a warning look but Sawyer had had enough. He picked up a wet towel and grabbed her by the arm. He had swabbed away half her bruise makeup before she could react. He triumphantly shoved the stained towel in Boone’s face. “See? Fake. I never hit a woman before but I’m awful tempted to start with you, darlin.’”

Boone was staring at her in disbelief. “You ... faked this?” His voice cracked with hurt.

She shrugged and tried to smile but then her mouth started to crumple. She pushed past them both and ran outside, slamming the door behind her.

Boone made to go after her and Sawyer put a hand on his shoulder. “You gotta stop lettin’ her call the shots, son. Unless you like bein’ played for a chump.”

He glared at Sawyer, but he didn’t follow her. He touched his fingers to his lip, staring at the blood as if expecting it to be fake too.

“Here,” Sawyer said impatiently, wiping Boone’s bloodied face with the damp towel. Boone stood stock still as he dabbed, those big blue eyes staring at him so intently it almost made him nervous. He tossed the towel in the sink, now stained with red in addition to the purple.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, reaching out to run a finger over Boone’s split lip. A soft, pink tongue darted out to meet his fingertip and he thought, maybe there was a way to get something for all his troubles after all. He could have junior here on his knees without even asking. And something told him that he’d be a lot more eager than his bored sister would have been.

But even as he imagined how nice that would be, how those pretty red lips would feel wrapped around his cock and how he wouldn’t mind mussing what was probably a $100 haircut, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

With his long hair and dark beard, he looked like the type of guy who would rough up a girl and roll some guy for his money. Except he didn’t want to be that guy today. Or ever.

“Run along, son.” He said, taking his hand back. “No thanks necessary.”

Boone looked startled, then hurt flitted across his flushed face. “Yeah. I better get going.” He was angry now, his posture stiff and defensive as he stalked out.

Sawyer waited until he heard the door slam and then he walked out to the empty room. He poured himself another shot and turned the TV back on. He’d start over again tomorrow. At a different bar.


And since I'm horribly indecisive, here's my other ending. The vaguely smutty one.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, reaching out to run a finger over Boone’s split lip. A soft, pink tongue darted out to meet his fingertip and he thought, maybe there was a way to get something for all his troubles after all. He could have junior here on his knees without even asking. And something told him that he’d be a lot more eager than his bored sister would have been.

His hand drifted to Boone's hair, mussing what was probably a $100 haircut. Boone reached for Sawyer's waist, hands pulling at his shirt.

"I'm sorry I said you were a type," Boone murmured, arousal making his voice a shade lower. "You're not. Not her type anyway."

"So I'm more your type?"

He nodded, a shy grin getting bigger as he flushed deep red. He had Sawyer's shirt out now and was running his hands over his stomach. Sawyer shivered. He was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. But that's not why he was still here.

"Your sister was going to give me $7,000." Sawyer said flatly, stopping the kid's hand as he went for his belt.

"What?" Fingers froze and blue eyes met his in surprise.

"For conning you."

Boone's mouth hung open. "You still expect me to pay you?"

He shrugged. "Not that much, no. Figure I saved you some money in tipping you off."

"My mistake." Boone's eyes narrowed. "You are her type." He dropped Sawyer's belt like it had turned red hot. He pushed past Sawyer and slammed the bathroom door shut.

"Maybe just a little more honest," Sawyer said softly to the empty room as he tucked his shirt back in.

Tags: lost: au fic, lost_fic, sawyer/boone, sawyer/shannon

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