Rating: sadly, PG-13!
Note: Written for inthekeyofd's day as queen at lostsquee. She asked for Jack and Sawyer and something white. I know I can't possibly top the fic I wrote for you last year so I tried something completely different. I hope it still fits the bill, hon, even if it's on the angsty side.
Sawyer caught Jack staring into the mirror for the third time this week, the same worried frown on his face as he rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. He watched him for a few minutes, but Jack was so absorbed in minutely examining his scraggly beard, he didn’t even notice Sawyer was there until he spoke.
“Yeah, last I checked, rubbin’ ain’t quite as effective as shavin,’” he observed drily, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
Jack looked up guiltily, but at the sight of Sawyer’s good-natured grin, he had to smile too, ducking his head at being caught. “Well, it’s not like you haven’t noticed.” He leaned closer to the mirror, peering at his own reflection, frown slipping firmly back into place. “Every time I shave, there’s more gray.”
“So you’re gonna stop shavin’ altogether?”
“No,” Jack sighed. “It’s just ... it makes me look old.”
“You are old,” Sawyer said, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist. He laid his head on Jack’s shoulder so that Jack didn’t have to keep turning around to talk to him. “A whole two years older ‘n’ me.”
Jack just nodded, still squinting at the smattering of gray hairs on his cheeks. He leaned forward, starting to smoothe the hair at his temples aside to examine the signs of graying there.
“It looks good on you,” Sawyer said softly, lowering his voice an octave to what Jack called his “sex voice.” “Distinguished.”
”You mean, I’ll look just like my father,” Jack said with a heavy breath, looking down, into the sink.
Sawyer was quiet for a moment, not sure what to say to that. “You’re not him,” he said at last. “Even if you got the man’s hair genes, don’t mean anything.”
”I just don’t want to see him staring back at me whenever I look in the mirror.” Jack sounded slightely petulant, like he knew he was being foolish but couldn’t help it.
“Well, then, dye it,” Sawyer suggested. Jack didn’t respond, so he kept talking. “Hey, I’m surprised all our hair didn’t turn pure white on the island, ya know? Stuff we saw? Stuff we went through?”
Jack’s head dropped lower, the barest of nods.
In his efforts to reassure Jack, Sawyer’s mind had wandered to one particular head of white hair. He’d stopped picturing Jack’s dad, who’d been slim and elegant, with neatly clipped gray hair, even in his drunken downward spiral. Instead, he saw Cooper’s ugly, reddish face mocking him. The man wore his white hair like a wolf wore a sheep’s skin, hiding his sins under the guise of benevolence and age. Sawyer shook his head, trying to shake the image loose. He tried to imagine his own father at that age, wondered if he’d have the same snowy white hair, if it would have made him look respectable, maybe. Or maybe he’d have lost it all, gone as bald as Locke.
“Hey,” Jack’s lips brushed his cheek. “You okay? You went off somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Sawyer smiled, shaking himself free from that pointless train of thought. He ran his hands over Jack’s hair, enjoying the fur-like feel of his buzz cut against his palm. “Not too gray,” he declared. “I like it. Salt ‘n’ pepper suits you. And hey, better ‘n’ goin’ bald, right?”
Jack was finally smiling. “That’s true.”
“I think it’s your ma’s dad you have to look at to see what’s gonna happen with you,” Sawyer said thoughtfully. “So let’s see ... my granddad, he always wore a hat so it was kinda hard to tell. No bald men in the South, just a whole lotta cowboy hats.”
Jack laughed, affectionately messing up Sawyer’s hair. “So when you start wearing a Stetson 24/7, I’ll know you’re going bald?”
“Maybe,” Sawyer grinned at him in the mirror.
“You gonna wear it in the shower?”
“Sure, they’re wash ‘n’ wear, right?”
“And in bed?” A wicked smile lit up Jack’s face, accenting the laugh lines around his eyes.
“Definitely in bed. In fact,” he said, leading Jack out of the bathroom and steering him towards their bed, “thought maybe I could model one, see what you think. How’s now for you, Doc?”
”Now’s good. Now’s perfect,” Jack said, stopping Sawyer in the doorway. He pressed him up against the frame and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, getting both them hard and hot.
They stumbled into the room, tripping over each other’s feet in their haste. Jack settled onto the bed while Sawyer rummaged in the closet, emerging triumphantly with a battered black cowboy hat. He lowered it onto his head, tipping it to one side so that only one eye was visible. Jack gave an appreciative wolf whistle, grabbing Sawyer’s belt buckle and pulling him to the bed.
Sawyer adjusted the brim and gave his most seductive smile as Jack started feverishly undoing Sawyer’s belt.
He went to remove the hat, but Jack shook his head. “Leave it on,” he ordered in a low growly tone that made Sawyer shiver in anticipation.
“Yes, sir. I always respect my elders,” he added with a chuckle as he straddled him, knowing that that crack was going to set Jack off.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it,” Jack threatened with a wolfish grin as he eased his T-shirt off over his head, using it to swat at Sawyer's ass.
Sawyer started a slow grind on top of Jack, crying "Woo!" He had a firm grasp on Jack's belt with one hand, waving the other in the air like he was riding his own personal mechanical bull.
“Yee-haw!” Jack laughed approvingly, sitting halfway up to kiss him, nearly unseating Sawyer in the process. He just grinned, gripping Jack harder with his thighs and pushed the hat on more firmly, because there was no way in hell it was staying on with Jack moving like that underneath him.
Getting old with Jack was going to be one helluva workout, Sawyer thought. He wouldn't have it any other way.