Title: The Closest Thing
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Word Count: 1,602
Warnings: Spoilers through S2, rimming
Prompt: For kellysparrow for Lost HoHoHo at lostsquee who asked for, "Jack/Sawyer; S1/2. Preferably smut, but friendship's definitely okay too. I would like to see something happen in either the jungle by day or on the beach by night."
Summary: The night before they head out with Michael in a mission to get Walt back from the Others and seek revenge for the deaths of Ana Lucia and Libby, Jack and Sawyer spend the time together and how their relationship got to that level is explored.

+++

Skin slicked with sweat, Jack arched his back as Sawyer drew designs with his tongue across Jack's stomach, moving lower at a tortuously slow pace. All his nerves were on fire, the cool breeze causing him to shudder and the crash of the surf drowning out the sounds in Sawyer's tent, tinting the moment with a surreal quality that dissolved all sense of time.

He'd long ago given up blaming it on their circumstances. Jack had cast the island as the scapegoat, thinking the weirdness of it had seeped into his skin, taking over like a virus, making him a completely different person, until Jack realized that the island was the first time he'd felt alive.

“Where are you disappearin' to, Doc?” Sawyer asked, his chin rested on the jut on Jack's hipbone.

Jolting back to the present, Jack entwined his fingers in Sawyer's hair at the base of his skull. “I'm right here,” he replied, moving his hand to Sawyer's chin, drawing the other man up for a kiss. Sawyer broke away, not seeming convinced, but he didn't bring it up again as Jack's hand worked its way down between their bodies and under the waistband of Sawyer's jeans.

+

Sawyer watched uncomfortably as Jack walked away, still rubbing the tears out of his eyes, clean streaks in stark contrast against the dirt on his face. He hadn't known that would be Jack's reaction, but Sawyer thought he had a right to know about his father, and this was the last chance Sawyer had to tell him in case anything happened with them on the raft, or with everyone else staying behind with the threat of the Others.

What he hadn't expected was to feel worse after telling Jack, like he'd just placed another impossible burden on the other man's shoulders. At first Sawyer had taken joy in tormenting Jack and his drive to be the hero and save the day, but as more time passed on the island, Sawyer was able to read into it more a more, recognizing a hidden darkness in Jack's eyes that he'd only previously seen in the mirror, a darkness that became even more apparent after Boone's death.

“Hey, Doc?” he called out, surprising himself with a sudden, unexplainable urge to tell Jack that he had done the best he could given the circumstances, how so many more of them, Sawyer included, would be dead if it weren't for Jack.

He had frozen amongst the trees, not continuing on to the beach but not turning back towards Sawyer, either. Sawyer felt like his body had been taken over as he put the axe down and found himself placing one foot in front of the other, working his way through the stretch of jungle that separated him from Jack.

Sawyer could feel the muscles tense in Jack's arm as he placed his hand upon it, fingers tracing the lines of the tattoos on his shoulder. Only then did Jack turn to face him, and Sawyer, having no idea what else to do, for once at a complete loss for words, pressed his mouth to Jack's in a bruising kiss, bracing himself for the blow that he was sure would come but never did. Jack was kissing him back, like a drowning man gasping for air, neither of them thinking about anything beyond that moment since they each were sure that once they parted ways they were dead men. This moment was the only time Sawyer could think of Jack letting his control slip, the emotional intimacy more significant than the physical. Sawyer wasn't used to anyone putting trust in him, especially not people like Jack.

Later, just before they pushed the raft into the water, Sawyer hadn't been surprised when Jack wasn't there, but what he found more surprising was the part of his that had hoped differently. He saw the looks passed between the others, heard Jin mutter “Kate” to Michael under his breath, and all Sawyer wanted to do was tell them that they had it all wrong, that he couldn't care less about her, but that would have been revealing more of himself to these people than Sawyer was ready to admit.

+

His head was thrown back so hard against the edge of the cot that Sawyer saw stars, but he could hardly feel it with Jack between his legs, sucking him off, holding Sawyer's legs out to either side of his body with strong hands. He didn't give a damn about what people were before the island anymore, but Sawyer couldn't help but wonder how Jack had become so God damn good at this.

Jack slowly slid his mouth off Sawyer's cock, the other man's brain barely having enough time to catch up as the hyper-sensitized flesh twitched in reaction to the humid air that now felt too cool. Jack gave a predatory grin, “Debauched is a good look on you.”

Sawyer ignored him, letting Jack rock his body he was resting his weight on his shoulders, his ass no longer touching the cushion. He could feel Jack's hot breath between his legs, groaned when Jack bit the inside of his thigh and then began to lick a trail from the bite to behind his balls. A shudder and a bark of a moan escaped Sawyer's body as Jack's tongue teased around his entrance before dipping inside, fucking him slowly.

+

“Well, you're all healed,” Jack said, amazed that Sawyer's fever had disappeared, but the hatch's supply of antibiotics were largely to thank for that. Jack was still trying to get used to having medical supplies again.

Sawyer grinned lazily from the bunk bed, closing the book he'd been reading over a thumb to mark where he'd left off and resting it in his lap. “Good as new?” he asked. He still sounded exhausted, like the last few days had just sapped all of his strength.

“You should keep taking these for another week,” Jack said, handing over the pill bottle. He pulled over the chair that was near the bed, trying not to be obvious about the distance he was trying to keep between himself and Sawyer. “Just in case there's anything still hanging around in your system.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Jack tried not to think about the last time they'd met in the jungle, before the hatch, but his mind kept looping back around to it. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't considered kissing Sawyer again, the roughness of his skin, the smoothness of his lips, and the heady, earthy taste of his mouth, even with the accidental bump of teeth, haunted his dreams even while Jack was awake. He doubted Sawyer had given the moment another thought – the other man certainly thought one if not both of them was going to die and acted on an impulse. Sawyer, if anything, was definitely impulsive.

Sawyer was examining the orange bottle like it contained something miraculous. “Shouldn't we save these in case someone else needs them?”

“There's a good-sized supply here.”

“Just when I thought this place couldn't get any crazier... I'm still surprised to wake up in a bed.” There was a glint in Sawyer's blue-green eyes. “Care to join me?” Sawyer laughed when Jack's eyes went wide. “Oh don't try and pretend you haven't been thinkin' about me, Doc.”

“I haven't been thinking about you, Sawyer,” Jack replied reflexively, but he couldn't convince himself and knew his eyes had given him away to Sawyer based on the knowing look on the other man's face.

Opening the book, Sawyer folded one of the pages over, in place of a bookmark, putting it down on the nightstand – there was even a fucking nightstand, Jack thought dryly – and resting the antibiotics on its cover. Sawyer sat up further on the bed, pulling the blankets aside to free his legs so he could rest them on the floor. They were now eye level, Sawyer probing the edges of Jack's personal space. “I'm gonna call you a liar.”

“I'm not lying,” Jack pressed on, his brain and mouth clearly no longer communicating with each other as his body was keyed in to Sawyer inching closer.

“Just give up control, Jack.” Sawyer was near enough that Jack could feel Sawyer's breath on his face. He craned his neck forward so their mouths were millimeters away. “Who knows – you might like it.”

+

They were leaving in a matter of hours, seeking payback from the Others, fed up with their threatening presence that had culminated with the murders of Ana Lucia and Libby. In the back of Jack's mind, he realized they didn't know the numbers they'd be up against, and the Others had already proven that they weren't above murder, making it very likely a suicide mission.

This was where Jack wanted to spend what could very well be his last hours.

They moved as one, a sharp contrast to their first, antagonistic encounters. Sawyer met Jack's every thrust as their hands clutched each other blindly, their attempts at kissing a brush of lips and heavy breathing. Jack came with Sawyer soon after, spilling into Jack's enclosed hand. They collapsed into each other, sweaty and spent, staving off the outside world for just a while longer.

Jack didn't know what to call what they had, but he'd given up questioning it. He believed when Sawyer said that Jack was the closest thing he had to a friend. It had sounded about right – they weren't friends but close, and they'd have the opportunity to fine tune that definition if they didn't get killed.