halfdutch (halfdutch) wrote,
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In Case of Emergency... (Jack/Sawyer) - R

Title: In Case of Emergency...
Rating: R
Spoilers : Set post "Something Nice Back Home" but the only bit of canon here is that Jack is recuperating from surgery
Note: Thank you to zelda_zee for the beta and for the present of fic yesterday, which gave me back my writing mojo, so I could write this for fosfomifira's birthday! Just something light and silly. Zero angst! *mwah*
Word count: 2045



Sawyer had no sooner stepped foot back on the beach than he was handed the job of babysitting the doc.

"Make sure he stays here and recuperates," Juliet had ordered and she was so unsmilingly stern that he didn't dare protest. Sawyer was pretty sure she'd been a nun before the island. Or a dominatrix. Too bad his fantasies in the doctor department lay much more in the direction of hairy chests and broad shoulders.

Jack (possessor of a very hairy chest and admirably broad shoulders) was clearly not intimidated by Juliet, because he sat up, grumbling. "I'm perfectly fine."

Juliet shoved him back down none too gently. "You've had abdominal surgery, Jack. You are not getting up. You are not to do anything more strenuous than opening and closing your eyes. Do I make myself clear?”

Jack scowled at her and muttered under his breath, but he lay still.

"Here," Juliet shoved something at Sawyer. "It's chloroform. If he gets out of hand, please use it."

"Hey!" Jack called out, but with one last "don't fuck with me," look, Juliet was gone.

"Where’d this come from?" Sawyer asked, eyeing the jar of chloroform.

"Dharma? Who knows?" Jack mumbled. '"At least you had a bunk bed to sleep in at the hatch. I can feel every lump of sand under this blanket."

"Yeah, life ain't fair, anyone ever happen to mention that to ya?"

Jack shot him the single dirtiest look he had ever been on the receiving end of. And then the bastard proceeded to try to get up. Again.

"C'mon, now, Doc, be good," Sawyer said, shaking his head. He held the chloroform canister and the none-too-clean looking rag Juliet had given him over Jack's head. "Be good or it's lights out."

Jack heaved a frustrated sigh and lay back down. "We should be saving that for an emergency," he muttered darkly.

"You are an emergency, Jackass," Sawyer chuckled. "Juliet's takin' care of all the medical stuff, Sayid's handlin' all the strategic plannin' and I think Kate can manage without your sorry attempts at flirtin' for a few hours."

"Sorry?" Jack harrumphed. "And I do not flirt with Kate," he said, wrinkling his forehead in distaste.

"Yeah, I wouldn't say that deer-in-the-headlights stare counts as flirtin."

Jack's surly squint would have meant business on any other day, but now the doc was flat on his back, unable to fight, unable to do anything but lie there and take Sawyer's good-natured jabs. Sawyer sat back in a camp chair, his, legs spread out in front of him. He was starting to enjoy the situation, except that Jack did look worn out, which meant Sawyer should probably go easy on him.

"So, she said I'm supposed 'ta give you some medicine."

"We should save it..." Jack began and Sawyer chimed in, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"... in case someone else needs it. Right. Well, today, you are someone else, Jack Shephard. You’re my patient and you’re gonna do what I say."

Jack pouted but he really was no match for Sawyer at the moment and they both knew it. He frowned as he took a sip from the water bottle Sawyer held to his lips and dutifully swallowed an Advil and an antibiotic, although he insisted on first taking the pills from Sawyer's hand and popping them in his mouth himself.

"That's better." Sawyer nodded his approval. "See, you help me, your help yourself."

Jack just grunted and closed his eyes. Probably trying to ignore Sawyer's presence as best he could, but then, as Sawyer watched, the tension did seem to leave his body and his breathing grew deep and regular.

Good. Sawyer was going to be on his best behavior too and let the doc sleep. He wasn't going to sing off-key or tell dirty jokes or anything else that might keep Jack up, much as he might be tempted.

He had brought a book but soon his own eyes grew heavy -- did the island always have to be so damn tropical? -- and he nodded off too.

Next thing Sawyer knew, Jack was attempting to step over his legs without waking him up, except that he was too shaky to pull off such a tricky maneuver. Instead, he ended up right in Sawyer's lap with an undignified "Oof."

"Hey, hey, where do you think you're goin' Jacko?" Jack's grimace of pain as Sawyer helped him up was almost enough to silence the lecture he had in mind. Almost.

"What in hell's name was that?" Sawyer demanded, poking Jack in the chest as he wincingly lay back down. "You are going to lay there and get better if I have to sit on you."

For some reason, Jack seemed to find that funny and he started to laugh, although from the way his laughter quickly turned into an agonized groan, it clearly wasn't doing him any good.

"That's right," Sawyer snapped. "You're gonna tear all your stitches out, one way or another, aren't ya?" He whipped Jack's T-shirt up to see if they had, in fact, come out, but although there was a bit of seepage, the rough line of red stitches looked pretty damn solid.

"What?" Jack demanded, trying to pull his shirt back down when Sawyer kept staring at his stomach.

"Why, Doc... I didn't ... you're as bald as a ... well, damn. You look kinda naked without all that hair!"

"Juliet shaved it. Sorry if she didn't get your permission first," Jack said snidely. "And she didn't shave everything." He raised his shirt, giving Sawyer a quick glimpse of his pecs, which were still reassuringly Jack-like in their furriness.

"Not everything...?" Sawyer couldn't resist and was met with another dirty look that, if possible, was dirtier than the first one Jack had handed him today.

"Oh, for God's sake, Sawyer. She took out my appendix. She didn't..." Sawyer waited, but Jack paused, clearly not sure whether to go for a polite euphemism or something much more explicit. Finally Jack just threw his hand over his eyes and muttered something about being stuck with idiots, which Sawyer tried his best not to take offense at.

He had doctorly duties to attend to, after all, one of which was applying an antibiotic salve to Jack's wound. He lifted Jack's T-shirt back up again, somehow not too surprised when Jack rather modestly tried to yank it back down.

"Look here, Blushing Beauty, I gotta put this stuff on you, so just sit tight."

Jack continued to pull his shirt down, insisting that he didn't need any such thing, so Sawyer had no choice, really. "You thought I was jokin," he announced in triumph as he straddled Jack, pinning him to his bed. "But now you see I mean business, doncha? Now just hang on..."

Except the doc still wouldn't cooperate, so Sawyer ground down a little with his hips as a warning that he had a lot more weight to distribute, if he so chose. Jack lay back finally, and let Sawyer rub the damn gel on him. Sawyer was very careful not to aggravate the wound and spent most of his effort rubbing the gel around the edges. "Look, I'm bein' as gentle as I know how to be," Sawyer said when Jack heaved a deep sigh.

Jack put his hand over Sawyer's, trying to get him to stop, Sawyer figured, and he realized that maybe he'd been rubbing the gel a bit too far and wide, just got carried away with his task with Jack’s stomach being so smooth and naked and all.

Only Jack said his name in an odd rasp that didn't seem to mean, "Stop." More like, "Don't stop." Surely it was Sawyer's imagination, but Jack's hips rising off his bed and grinding against him felt pretty damn real.

"Whoa now," Sawyer said, but Jack didn't stop with those little hip thrusts and now he added a soft moan that left no doubt of his intentions. Sawyer's hand hadn't stopped rubbing this whole time and now, well, there was nothing to do but slip it a little lower seeing as how it was already conveniently slicked up.

Jack was breathing fast and his abdomen was rising and falling in a way that couldn't be good for a man who'd just been cut open and stitched back up, but he'd started to say things like, "Please, Sawyer," and who was Sawyer to refuse a sick man?

It wasn't the first time he and Jack had messed around, even if that one drunken kiss ages ago by the fire had led to Jack awkwardly excusing himself before anyone reached below anyone's waist. Course, Sawyer had followed him, knowing just what the doc was going off to do in private, because he had the exact same idea. He couldn't really see Jack in the bushes, but he could sure as hell hear him. Damn, it had been a rush to come at the same time, even if they were several feet apart and Jack never knew he had company.

Sawyer had figured then that it was just a matter of time until he had Jack writhing underneath him, his slick cock in his hot little hand, but he hadn't really thought today would be his lucky day.

He leaned low over Jack, whispering in his ear, "That's right, give it to me, Doc." He was here to take care of Jack, wasn't he? So he made this as fast and as rough as he dared, no fooling around, just a hot, quick handjob that would curl Jack's toes.

Sawyer grinned as Jack stiffened underneath him. He was good, he told himself. The doc was nearly there. But now the moaning grew so loud that Sawyer had no choice but to repeatedly bite Jack's lower lip. But that didn't shut him up so Sawyer had to kiss him good and hard to get him to quiet down.

It was a lucky thing he had his tongue in Jack's mouth when he came, because otherwise the Doc's orgasmic groan would have been heard on the other side of the island.

There was nothing but heavy breathing on both sides for a few minutes -- damn if Sawyer hadn't come in his own pants right after Jack. He finally sat back, smoothing his mussed hair out of his eyes, satisfied to see the lines of pain and worry gone for the moment from Jack's face and instead a kind of dreamy, doe-eyed expression there that made his smile deepen.

"Well, I reckon I better get you cleaned up..." Sawyer started to say, but Jack's gasp of surprise was not enough warning for the low, angry female voice suddenly hissing in his ear.

"James Ford! If you've torn out his stitches, you’ll be sewing him up again yourself!"

Juliet delivered a surprisingly strong openhanded blow to Sawyer's forehead. "Ow!" he yelped.

"You two," Juliet said in pained exasperation. "What part of 'let him recuperate' do you not understand? I am going to put a camera in here, I swear. Now you let him rest or so help me...." She delivered one more flick to Sawyer's head, leaving the vague warning hanging in the air, and stormed out.

"I think we got off kinda light, don't you?" Sawyer said, rubbing his forehead.

Jack covered his eyes in embarrassment. "Just chloroform me now."

"No, I think we should chloroform her, so she doesn't bust in here again.”

At that, Jack let out a high-pitched giggle and then he couldn't stop laughing, even though it had to hurt, to judge by the tears running down his face. But then again, Jack always did cry at the drop of a hat.

"Stop that," Sawyer ordered, shaking Jack by the shoulder. "You really are gonna tear your stitches out and Juliet's gonna blame me!"

"I can't help it," Jack laughed, gasping between giggles, and Sawyer figured he'd better just kiss him again.

They had to save the chloroform for a real emergency, after all.
Tags: jack/sawyer, lost_fic
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