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ficinabottleTitle: Don't Fear the Reaper-1/1- (3rd pt. in series)-Charlie/Hurley-R for lang. and m/m
Author: Jen
Pairing: Charlie/Hurley, Sawyer
Rating: R for language and m/m
Summary: Charlie and Hurley get an unexpected visitor
Warnings: None except language and description of drug withdrawal
Disclaimer: ABC owns Lost, I'm making absolutely no profit from this insanity
Feedback: Would absolutely adore it
A/N: Well, here we go again. *g* I only seem able to write 'subtle slash' when it comes to Charlie/Hurley so far, but somehow that seems even sweeter in a way. : ) I have completely and utterly ignored most of the actual plot lines for this part- Locke might as well have never happened as far as Charlie's concerned, and I'm sure I've veered off from reality in many other places, to suit the fic. I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless. : )- Jen
Hurley had a completely irrational fear of blood and gore and any type of illness. He had always been that way- had always freaked at the first sign of something amiss in others. In fact, it was close to being a full-blown phobia. Whenever someone was sick or hurt, Hurley would take himself as far from the scene as humanly possible, as fast as his legs would carry him. It was like a panic attack in the fact that his heart rate would speed out of control and he would actually go into the fight or flight mode. And he had always flown. Until now. For Charlie, he had found the strength to stay and fight.
The last few days had been far worse than anything Hurley had seen in even his most horrible imaginings. There was no blood, but there was every other disgusting bodily function known to man. He didn't know how someone could be as sick and in so much agony as Charlie and still live. In fact, there had been several terrifying moments when Hurley was convinced Charlie *wouldn't* live, that his body was just shutting down, giving up on him. Yet even through that, Hurley stayed. Held Charlie tenderly in his arms and fought off the Reaper best he could. He'd wanted to go for Jack countless times, but didn't feel that he could leave Charlie, not even for a minute, and he somehow knew that it wouldn't be what Charlie wanted anyway.
Today, for the first time, Hurley had dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they were coming out the other side of the nightmare. It seemed that now Charlie was simply exhausted- he still shivered and shook, but mostly he slept, for hours on end. For the most part, the agonized cries had ceased, but Hurley thought in a way, this terrible silence was worse. He himself was utterly exhausted; he was still unable to go to sleep for fear that Charlie would just quietly slip away.
Charlie was asleep now, his head in Hurley's lap, and Hurley was gently rubbing the Brit's stomach. Charlie hadn't wanted to be touched at all for a long while, would cry out in pain at the slightest contact, but now it seemed to calm him. It did wonders for Hurley as well. He was amazed at himself- he had never dared to touch anyone this way in his life. He had never in his wildest dreams thought he'd even have the chance.
Hurley was a realist. He understood how desperately Charlie needed someone now, that *anyone* tending to him, comforting him would be welcome, that it was not Hurley himself that he wanted. That when Charlie got a little more back to normal, this would end- when his pain ceased, his need for Hurley would cease as well.
Hurley wasn't sure how he would be able to handle that day. Despite all of his efforts to stop it from happening, he had developed some very strong feelings for Charlie. Hurley refused to allow himself to put a name to the feelings, but that didn't make them any less real. When Charlie at last rejected him, he knew it would break his heart. But at least he had this moment, and that was more than he had ever expected to be given.
"Well, well, well. Isn't this just precious?"
Hurley jumped at the sudden voice, causing Charlie to moan slightly in his sleep. For one wild moment Hurley, who had been pondering the possibility of death, thought that the Reaper had found his way to Charlie after all, calling him home in a snide southern drawl. When he finally looked up, he found that the reality was only marginally better. Sawyer was standing a few feet away, grinning hugely.
"Wha...dude...huh?" Hurley babbled nonsensically in his shock.
Sawyer just overrode him. "Haven't seen you boys for days. Everybody thought you got gobbled up by the big bad monster. Sent out a search party." The grin widened. "I'm it."
'Of all the people in the world...', Hurley thought glumly. Here he sat with Charlie's head in his lap, large hand caressing the Brit alarmingly close to his waistband. That the touch was perfectly innocent and meant for comfort wouldn't matter to Sawyer one bit. He would gleefully spill the details, undoubtedly along with some highly creative embellishments of his own, to the whole camp within seconds of his arrival back.
"Oh, man. Why you?" It was very nearly a groan.
Sawyer just winked. "I volunteered, big boy. See, I'm the only one who knows your little secret. Not even Hero managed to figure it out. We're not exactly marooned with Doctor fuckin' Kildare, are we?" Sawyer made a face then continued. "I knew the monster hadn't got ya at all. Not the beastie kind, anyway. Nope, it's the kind of monster that comes in a baggie that's eatin' rock star there." Then to Hurley's surprise, Sawyer came over and knelt by the two of them. His voice was still gruff and callous, but there was a hint of something else underneath it now, as well. Hurley absolutely refused to acknowledge that it sounded suspiciously like tenderness.
"How ya doin', there, music man?" Sawyer reached out a finger and brushed a still-sleeping Charlie's sweaty bangs out of his face. Hurley flinched, ready to slap Sawyer's hand away, until he realized that the touch was surprisingly gentle. Sawyer looked up at Hurley, voice soft now. "Do you know what to do for him? This is some fucked up shit to go through, he needs..."
Hurley cut him off, irritated. "I know what he needs. What do you think I've been *doing* all this time out here, dude, practicing my fucking golf swing?" He put his arm across Charlie's chest, protectively, looking at Sawyer defiantly. "He's fine." He thought about that for a second and amended it. "He's gonna be just fine."
Sawyer peered at Charlie closely. "Ya know, I think maybe he will. Good job, Tubby." He used the nickname without any rancor, almost in a friendly way. He then pulled a pack off of his back and set it on the ground next to Hurley. "Some water, little bit of food. I looked for scrips, man, but there was nothin' but these." He held a bottle out to Hurley. "It's just Xanax, don't even know if it'll do any fucking good, but it might help a little with the freaking out. Don't overdo it, though, Tubby, okay?"
Hurley wasn't sure how he felt about his new nickname, but wasn't about to argue with Sawyer at this point in time- at least he was trying, in his own bizarre way, to be kind. Hell, for Sawyer, this was close to fucking *sainthood*. Hurley wondered what his motivation could possibly be- surely this wasn't done just out of the goodness of his heart. He wasn't even sure Sawyer *had* a heart.
Hurley piped up, a little timidly. "What will...what will you tell the others, dude? I mean, will you..." He trailed off, not even sure what he had been about to say.
Sawyer's grin reappeared, wider than ever. "Don't worry, I'll think of something. Makin' shit up is what I do best." He continued on, unable to help himself. "Maybe I'll tell 'em you're having a big ol' fuckfest out here in the jungle, *that* should keep 'em away." He managed to quell the sarcasm at Hurley's look of horror. "Sorry, man, sorry. You know I won't do that. I'll figure something out."
He got up and started to leave, then turned back to Hurley, voice surprisingly quiet and serious. "Hell, any happiness you can find in this shithole, more power to ya. It's more than the rest of us have. Take care of him, Hurley." With that he was gone, back into the trees.
Hurley stared after him, mouth hanging open, then jumped yet again when Charlie spoke from his lap; he'd thought the Brit had been passed out cold for the entire conversation. "Now I've seen bloody *everything*. Sun must've finally baked his brains." Charlie's voice was weak and sick but held a hint of humor.
"No shit, dude. No shit.", Hurley mumbled, then looked down at Charlie tenderly, seeing that his face was pale and clammy. Still, he thought the Brit looked a tiny bit more alive than he had even a few hours earlier. He bent down and softly kissed Charlie's forehead without even thinking- he had done it on several occasions before, but Charlie had always been out of it at the time. Now, however, Charlie's eyes were wide open, looking up into his. Hurley, mortified at his blunder, blushed as red as a tomato, stuttered apology forming behind his lips.
But Charlie just smiled weakly and brought his trembling hand up to Hurley's cheek, fingers brushing lightly over the skin. "Thanks, mate. Just...thanks.", he whispered, and tugged gently on the back of Hurley's head, drawing him down again. Charlie's dry lips brushed across his quickly and then made another pass back, lingering a moment, murmuring against them. "Couldn't do this alone, man."
Hurley pulled away slowly, in shock, breath shaky, heart hammering out of his chest, trying to convince himself that yes, that had really happened, Charlie had kissed him. Actually kissed him. On the *lips*. It was most likely done out of some fevered delusion- perhaps Charlie had imagined Claire in his place, or Shannon, maybe, although why he would call either of the girls 'man' was a bit confusing- but it had *happened*, nonetheless, and Hurley thought he might just die from happiness. He was finally able to reply, though the words came out in a croaked whisper. "You're not alone, Charlie. Not ever, dude."
But Charlie had already drifted back to sleep, an almost peaceful look on his face for the first time in days.
*********************************************************************************
A while later, Hurley came back from a bathroom break to hear soft sounds emanating from their little camp. He rushed towards Charlie, terrified that something had gone wrong, that the illness had come back with a vengeance, but then stopped in his tracks as he pushed through the foliage and spotted his friend. Charlie had struggled upright, propped himself against the trunk of a tree, resting limply against it, eyes closed. And he was singing. The sweet, sad lyrics of The Stones 'Angie' wafted gently on the breeze.
Hurley stood there in the clearing, just listening, tears stinging the backs of his eyes. The words were weak, and the tone was not the same as it had been before, but it was real.
Charlie had found his voice again.
End.
Author: Jen
Pairing: Charlie/Hurley, Sawyer
Rating: R for language and m/m
Summary: Charlie and Hurley get an unexpected visitor
Warnings: None except language and description of drug withdrawal
Disclaimer: ABC owns Lost, I'm making absolutely no profit from this insanity
Feedback: Would absolutely adore it
A/N: Well, here we go again. *g* I only seem able to write 'subtle slash' when it comes to Charlie/Hurley so far, but somehow that seems even sweeter in a way. : ) I have completely and utterly ignored most of the actual plot lines for this part- Locke might as well have never happened as far as Charlie's concerned, and I'm sure I've veered off from reality in many other places, to suit the fic. I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless. : )- Jen
Hurley had a completely irrational fear of blood and gore and any type of illness. He had always been that way- had always freaked at the first sign of something amiss in others. In fact, it was close to being a full-blown phobia. Whenever someone was sick or hurt, Hurley would take himself as far from the scene as humanly possible, as fast as his legs would carry him. It was like a panic attack in the fact that his heart rate would speed out of control and he would actually go into the fight or flight mode. And he had always flown. Until now. For Charlie, he had found the strength to stay and fight.
The last few days had been far worse than anything Hurley had seen in even his most horrible imaginings. There was no blood, but there was every other disgusting bodily function known to man. He didn't know how someone could be as sick and in so much agony as Charlie and still live. In fact, there had been several terrifying moments when Hurley was convinced Charlie *wouldn't* live, that his body was just shutting down, giving up on him. Yet even through that, Hurley stayed. Held Charlie tenderly in his arms and fought off the Reaper best he could. He'd wanted to go for Jack countless times, but didn't feel that he could leave Charlie, not even for a minute, and he somehow knew that it wouldn't be what Charlie wanted anyway.
Today, for the first time, Hurley had dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they were coming out the other side of the nightmare. It seemed that now Charlie was simply exhausted- he still shivered and shook, but mostly he slept, for hours on end. For the most part, the agonized cries had ceased, but Hurley thought in a way, this terrible silence was worse. He himself was utterly exhausted; he was still unable to go to sleep for fear that Charlie would just quietly slip away.
Charlie was asleep now, his head in Hurley's lap, and Hurley was gently rubbing the Brit's stomach. Charlie hadn't wanted to be touched at all for a long while, would cry out in pain at the slightest contact, but now it seemed to calm him. It did wonders for Hurley as well. He was amazed at himself- he had never dared to touch anyone this way in his life. He had never in his wildest dreams thought he'd even have the chance.
Hurley was a realist. He understood how desperately Charlie needed someone now, that *anyone* tending to him, comforting him would be welcome, that it was not Hurley himself that he wanted. That when Charlie got a little more back to normal, this would end- when his pain ceased, his need for Hurley would cease as well.
Hurley wasn't sure how he would be able to handle that day. Despite all of his efforts to stop it from happening, he had developed some very strong feelings for Charlie. Hurley refused to allow himself to put a name to the feelings, but that didn't make them any less real. When Charlie at last rejected him, he knew it would break his heart. But at least he had this moment, and that was more than he had ever expected to be given.
"Well, well, well. Isn't this just precious?"
Hurley jumped at the sudden voice, causing Charlie to moan slightly in his sleep. For one wild moment Hurley, who had been pondering the possibility of death, thought that the Reaper had found his way to Charlie after all, calling him home in a snide southern drawl. When he finally looked up, he found that the reality was only marginally better. Sawyer was standing a few feet away, grinning hugely.
"Wha...dude...huh?" Hurley babbled nonsensically in his shock.
Sawyer just overrode him. "Haven't seen you boys for days. Everybody thought you got gobbled up by the big bad monster. Sent out a search party." The grin widened. "I'm it."
'Of all the people in the world...', Hurley thought glumly. Here he sat with Charlie's head in his lap, large hand caressing the Brit alarmingly close to his waistband. That the touch was perfectly innocent and meant for comfort wouldn't matter to Sawyer one bit. He would gleefully spill the details, undoubtedly along with some highly creative embellishments of his own, to the whole camp within seconds of his arrival back.
"Oh, man. Why you?" It was very nearly a groan.
Sawyer just winked. "I volunteered, big boy. See, I'm the only one who knows your little secret. Not even Hero managed to figure it out. We're not exactly marooned with Doctor fuckin' Kildare, are we?" Sawyer made a face then continued. "I knew the monster hadn't got ya at all. Not the beastie kind, anyway. Nope, it's the kind of monster that comes in a baggie that's eatin' rock star there." Then to Hurley's surprise, Sawyer came over and knelt by the two of them. His voice was still gruff and callous, but there was a hint of something else underneath it now, as well. Hurley absolutely refused to acknowledge that it sounded suspiciously like tenderness.
"How ya doin', there, music man?" Sawyer reached out a finger and brushed a still-sleeping Charlie's sweaty bangs out of his face. Hurley flinched, ready to slap Sawyer's hand away, until he realized that the touch was surprisingly gentle. Sawyer looked up at Hurley, voice soft now. "Do you know what to do for him? This is some fucked up shit to go through, he needs..."
Hurley cut him off, irritated. "I know what he needs. What do you think I've been *doing* all this time out here, dude, practicing my fucking golf swing?" He put his arm across Charlie's chest, protectively, looking at Sawyer defiantly. "He's fine." He thought about that for a second and amended it. "He's gonna be just fine."
Sawyer peered at Charlie closely. "Ya know, I think maybe he will. Good job, Tubby." He used the nickname without any rancor, almost in a friendly way. He then pulled a pack off of his back and set it on the ground next to Hurley. "Some water, little bit of food. I looked for scrips, man, but there was nothin' but these." He held a bottle out to Hurley. "It's just Xanax, don't even know if it'll do any fucking good, but it might help a little with the freaking out. Don't overdo it, though, Tubby, okay?"
Hurley wasn't sure how he felt about his new nickname, but wasn't about to argue with Sawyer at this point in time- at least he was trying, in his own bizarre way, to be kind. Hell, for Sawyer, this was close to fucking *sainthood*. Hurley wondered what his motivation could possibly be- surely this wasn't done just out of the goodness of his heart. He wasn't even sure Sawyer *had* a heart.
Hurley piped up, a little timidly. "What will...what will you tell the others, dude? I mean, will you..." He trailed off, not even sure what he had been about to say.
Sawyer's grin reappeared, wider than ever. "Don't worry, I'll think of something. Makin' shit up is what I do best." He continued on, unable to help himself. "Maybe I'll tell 'em you're having a big ol' fuckfest out here in the jungle, *that* should keep 'em away." He managed to quell the sarcasm at Hurley's look of horror. "Sorry, man, sorry. You know I won't do that. I'll figure something out."
He got up and started to leave, then turned back to Hurley, voice surprisingly quiet and serious. "Hell, any happiness you can find in this shithole, more power to ya. It's more than the rest of us have. Take care of him, Hurley." With that he was gone, back into the trees.
Hurley stared after him, mouth hanging open, then jumped yet again when Charlie spoke from his lap; he'd thought the Brit had been passed out cold for the entire conversation. "Now I've seen bloody *everything*. Sun must've finally baked his brains." Charlie's voice was weak and sick but held a hint of humor.
"No shit, dude. No shit.", Hurley mumbled, then looked down at Charlie tenderly, seeing that his face was pale and clammy. Still, he thought the Brit looked a tiny bit more alive than he had even a few hours earlier. He bent down and softly kissed Charlie's forehead without even thinking- he had done it on several occasions before, but Charlie had always been out of it at the time. Now, however, Charlie's eyes were wide open, looking up into his. Hurley, mortified at his blunder, blushed as red as a tomato, stuttered apology forming behind his lips.
But Charlie just smiled weakly and brought his trembling hand up to Hurley's cheek, fingers brushing lightly over the skin. "Thanks, mate. Just...thanks.", he whispered, and tugged gently on the back of Hurley's head, drawing him down again. Charlie's dry lips brushed across his quickly and then made another pass back, lingering a moment, murmuring against them. "Couldn't do this alone, man."
Hurley pulled away slowly, in shock, breath shaky, heart hammering out of his chest, trying to convince himself that yes, that had really happened, Charlie had kissed him. Actually kissed him. On the *lips*. It was most likely done out of some fevered delusion- perhaps Charlie had imagined Claire in his place, or Shannon, maybe, although why he would call either of the girls 'man' was a bit confusing- but it had *happened*, nonetheless, and Hurley thought he might just die from happiness. He was finally able to reply, though the words came out in a croaked whisper. "You're not alone, Charlie. Not ever, dude."
But Charlie had already drifted back to sleep, an almost peaceful look on his face for the first time in days.
*********************************************************************************
A while later, Hurley came back from a bathroom break to hear soft sounds emanating from their little camp. He rushed towards Charlie, terrified that something had gone wrong, that the illness had come back with a vengeance, but then stopped in his tracks as he pushed through the foliage and spotted his friend. Charlie had struggled upright, propped himself against the trunk of a tree, resting limply against it, eyes closed. And he was singing. The sweet, sad lyrics of The Stones 'Angie' wafted gently on the breeze.
Hurley stood there in the clearing, just listening, tears stinging the backs of his eyes. The words were weak, and the tone was not the same as it had been before, but it was real.
Charlie had found his voice again.
End.
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 08:03 am (UTC)And this line: For one wild moment Hurley, who had been pondering the possibility of death, thought that the Reaper had found his way to Charlie after all, calling him home in a snide southern drawl. was perfect!
no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 12:47 pm (UTC)Can't explain how much I love that line. Because it's so Hurley, and the idea of Sawyer as the Grim Reaper...I want this to be canon. I want to turn on the TV tonight and see this. Sweet Hurley/Charlie, and maybe a little bit of Sawyer on the side. :-)
Charlie had found his voice again.
Gorgeous.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:56 pm (UTC)I'm so very glad you're still enjoying the story, and thank you so much for the great compliments, they mean a whole lot! : )
no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 11:07 pm (UTC)I'm glad to hear Sawyer's not finished invading your brain. :) I look forward to more!
no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Things I dearly loved about this installment:
1)The song. I LOVE that song. Love, love, LOVE!
2) Sawyer being gentle with Chahlie. (And pushing back his bangs from his face - AAAAA!!! You want to kill me dead don't you?!)
3) How you made Hurley's inner monologue spot on for heavy folks. How most can't believe that a "normal" sized person would ever want to stay with them or could love them, esp. romantically.
4) Chahlie kissing him. YAYE!! A bit of a promise, yeah? ;-)
a few lines that I loved. (I'd be quoting the whole thing but these were specially good.)
And he had always flown. Until now. For Charlie, he had found the strength to stay and fight.
He was amazed at himself- he had never dared to touch anyone this way in his life. He had never in his wildest dreams thought he'd even have the chance.
The sweet, sad lyrics of The Stones 'Angie' wafted gently on the breeze.
Charlie had found his voice again.
Lines that cracked me the hell up!
For one wild moment Hurley, who had been pondering the possibility of death, thought that the Reaper had found his way to Charlie after all, calling him home in a snide southern drawl.
"I know what he needs. What do you think I've been *doing* all this time out here, dude, practicing my fucking golf swing?"
Hell, for Sawyer, this was close to fucking *sainthood*.
Your Sawyer makes me wish for some Sawyer/Ryan Oz crossover goodness. ;-) Just sayin'.
Thanks for continuing with this. I think you already know but incase you do'nt - I love this. A lot.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-07 05:36 am (UTC)>2) Sawyer being gentle with Chahlie. (And pushing back his bangs from his face - AAAAA!!! You want to kill me dead don't you?!)
LOL! You have no damned idea how close Sawyer came to just pushing poor Hurley out of the way and jumping Charlie right there. *g* I'd actually written part of a steamy Charlie/Sawyer scene before I was all like 'What the hell, Jen?! This is supposed to be sweet! And it's also supposed to be Charlie/*Hurley*!!' *g*
>4) Chahlie kissing him. YAYE!! A bit of a promise, yeah? ;-)
Yeah. *g* I've written far enough ahead that I can tell you it's a *definite* promise. ; )
>Your Sawyer makes me wish for some Sawyer/Ryan Oz crossover goodness. ;-) Just sayin'.
Okay, LOL, I have *got* to know- is that statement just a hilarious coincidence, or do you somehow know that I used to write almost strictly Ryan-centered slash?? *g* If not, I find that too funny for words! LOL! And, oh good Lord, did I just get some ideas!! *g*
Thanks once again, so much, for the fabulous feedback! : ) -Jen
no subject
Date: 2004-11-08 12:17 am (UTC)Good. Now finish it up and post it as a one-shot. (Or, by all means, elaborate and make a several section bit out of that as well!) ;-)
It wasn't coincidence. I saw somewhere that you said you were in the Oz fandom. Don't remember where, though. I was in it for a short time back in '01 as sn IrishWhipcord but didn't much of anything. oops. ;-)
Anyway, Ryan is my favourite inmate, although I love Keller and my friend was a HUGE Nicholai fan. ;-)
Anyway, thanks for this and for the other section and now that I know there's even more coming, thanks in advance for all of that! =D
p.s. - YAYE!! YAYE for crossover ideas!!
no subject
Date: 2004-11-24 10:48 pm (UTC)http://www.geocities.com/nonstopdistraction
*squee Hurley!!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-01 10:38 pm (UTC)