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You woke up decently early, never having been one that gets up at dawn to sing Kumbaya around the campfire. But today you thought you’d go out and collect some fruit, maybe some mangos and bananas for you and Sawyer for breakfast. For as much hoarding as the man does, he doesn’t do nearly as much eating. You think he just likes having it as a safety net, just in case he needs it someday.
You had been staying in his tent for almost a month now and your things have practically overtaken his. Your clothes have been strewn everywhere, ruining the organized madness he had going on prior. But he knows better than to argue, you’ll always win.
Despite what everyone seems to think, the two of you actually didn’t know each other before the crash. You’re just. Similar in the ways that matter and. Well. Different in the ways that also matter. You balance each other out quite well.
It started simply. You would go together on hunts, to collect fruit, and on whatever damn mission Jack was hellbent on carrying out. You got pushed together at first, nobody else wanted to put up with Sawyer and his snark so you volunteered. You weren’t sure what everyone else’s problem was, but he didn’t scare you. It was a facade and you saw through it from day one. No matter how hard he tried to convince everyone else, and himself, that he’s evil, you saw through it.
One day when things had been particularly rough and you were sick of sitting there, mind racing, so you stalked over to his tent, grabbed his hand to drag him out, and walked into the jungle. He was confused at first, even more so when you refused to talk or meet his eye, but eventually, he grabbed your hand, shut up, and kept walking, offering you no more than a comforting squeeze once in a while. And it was exactly what you needed. You didn’t want someone to fix you, to solve your problems, just someone to be there to remind you that you’re not alone. That person was Sawyer. He didn’t judge, he never has. And recently? He’s been coming to you and letting you know, in his own ways when he needs someone to be there for him and damn, does it make you proud to see.
He was the one who invited you to stay with him, that wasn’t you. But you were more than happy to say yes. He had some reasons lined up about safety in numbers, yada yada yada, smoke monster, yada yada ya, but you’re pretty sure he was just lonely and enjoyed your company. He’d never admit it, though.
Considering he shares his highly coveted stash with you, you think it’s only right to get him some food every once in a while from the group. You know he hates doing it by himself, and as much twisted joy he gets from being hated, you can tell it grates on him in the smallest of ways. But if there’s anything you do know, it’s that things like that build up. And you want to help him. God knows he’s helped you.
After around a half-hour of searching, you were happy with your yield. You’d found a decent amount of mangos and not very many bananas. But that’s okay. Sawyer doesn’t really like them anyway, but he’ll eat whatever you bring him. It’s endearing.
You finally decide to make your way back to your shared tent, but once you get a few yards away, you hear a struggle. Kate is screaming and they’re dragging? Is that Sawyer? Not on your fucking watch. You pick up the pace and break into a sprint, catching up with Jack and Sayid dragging a knocked out Sawyer down to the beach.
“Hey, hey, hey, what the hell is going on here?” you shout, unable to contain your anger. If they have this big of a problem with something Sawyer has done, they should know at this point to come to you. But they didn’t. They resorted to violence. And for how much Sawyer has protected you, you’ll be damned if you don’t do the same.
“He made his choice, Y/N,” Jack says ominously, glaring at you over his shoulder. Oh. The inhaler thing. You’d heard them all bitching about it the other day. This is an. Acceleration, though.
“Jack, if you do this...” Kate throws out, watching the four of you leave, shooting you a sympathetic look.
You know there’s no way you’ll be able to overpower the two men, so you’re left with your words. But they don’t seem to be listening to a damn thing you’re saying. Finally, they throw him against a tree and tie him up. You flinch as his head bangs into the trunk, already concerned at the blood congealed in his hair, dripping down his forehead. You try one more time.
“Just give me five minutes with him. Before you both do something you can’t take back,” you say, making sure to enunciate the last sentence to try and get the gravity of what they’re about to do to sink in. You don’t know how you’ll do it, but you refuse to let this happen.
“Fine. Five minutes. That’s it.” Jack says as they both walk away.
“Goddamnit Sawyer, I know you’re awake. What the fuck was that?” you say, beyond done with this entire situation. He groans as he opens his eyes.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know, Sunshine? I wake up to a metal pipe across the head and then again here. I’m just minding my damn business,”
“Cut the shit. Is this all seriously about those inhalers? The ones you don’t even have??” you say, voice rising. He tries to cut in but you stop him. “This isn’t even about you anymore, they’re all wasting valuable time trying to get them from you when they could be putting their efforts into looking somewhere they actually might be. Stop putting that girl’s life in danger. And whatever this is all actually about? You thinking you deserve to be punished? That’s bullshit. That’s why I’m here. You come and talk to me. Before shit blows up in all of our faces,”
He looks down and doesn’t respond. He knows you’re right. You feel your heart clench when you look down at the blood still dripping and the bump slowly rising on his head.
“Goddamnit,” you mutter under your breath as you rip a part of your shirt off, dump some water on it, and move in to clean his wound, kneeling in front of him. Relatively, it’s not that bad. But you still hate seeing him hurt. Especially in such preventable ways.
You place your hand on the good side of his head for stability and see his eyes flutter shut. You can’t help your smile and lightly stroke his hairline with your thumb. The ghost of a smile on his face disappears when you start to clean the cut. You’re patting lightly, but you can tell it still hurts.
You feel Sawyer tense even more and follow his eyes to see Jack and Sayid walking back up with a handful of bamboo shoots.
“Y/N, go away. You don’t need to see this,” Sayid says, short and to the point. You keep your hand on Sawyer’s head and sigh. Men. You look over to him.
“Sayid. Do you really think if he had the inhalers, I wouldn’t give them to Shannon? I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not a damn monster and neither is Sawyer, no matter what you all decide to believe. It’s easier to have someone to hate, to blame,” you look over and see Sawyer's eyes still glued to the ground. You can’t help yourself, so you lightly rake your fingers through his matted hair. He looks up to meet your eyes and you give him a half-smile.
“Is that true, Sawyer? Do you not even have them?” Jack says, voice increasing in volume, eyes wild.
“No, no, he has them. He has to,” Sayid responds, fiddling anxiously with the bamboo in his hand.
“Well, then. Why don’t you ask him, oh famed human lie detector,” you blurt out, unable to restrain your agitation any longer. You hear Sawyer snort and feel a little bit better, he’s in there somewhere. Sayid is practically buzzing, unable to stand still. He looks at Sawyer, expectantly.
“Well?” he asks.
“Sunshine ain’t the lying type,” he all but spits out, avoiding eye contact. Sayid looks down and Jack groans, throwing his head back. They both look like they have more to say but keep their mouths shut.
“Alright. Now that we’ve got that cleared up, are we done here?” you ask, hands on your hips, staring at the two men.
“Whatever, Y/N,” Jack says, walking away with Sayid in tow.
“Now, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” Sawyer yells to their shrinking figures. You laugh and walk around the tree to untie him. You can’t control your racing heart as your hands touch his, pulling at the pesky rope. You can see where it broke the skin and you sigh as you lightly brush your fingertips over the rope burn on his wrists.
“You’ve really gotta stop hurting yourself, asshole,” you say, your smile evident in your voice. He keeps his arms behind the tree a little longer than necessary, savoring your touch. You give his forearm a squeeze and he pulls his arms around and goes to stand up.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, eyes sparkling with mischief. He meets your still slightly frustrated look and glances down again, quickly this time. “Oh, come here, Sunshine,” he says and before you know it, you’re engulfed by his arms and pulled into his chest. You’re instantly calm. You wrap your arms around him and ball up his shirt up in your hands, holding on tight. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation, I just didn’t expect you to come running out of nowhere and give them dictators a run for their damn money,” he mutters into your neck, breath ghosting your skin. You feel goosebumps crawl up your spine.
“Well, you’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m gonna sit there and let them torture you. That’s not happening, not today, not ever,” you mutter back, nuzzling your head deeper into his chest as his arms tighten around you. You feel him move his hand to your head and he starts to slowly stroke your hair. Finally, he pulls back, still staring at you. He moves in slowly and places his forehead against yours.
“You’re too good to me, Y/N. Too damn good,” you feel his breath on your lips and you can’t fucking take it anymore.
“Shut up, Sawyer,” you say as in one final moment of bravery, you grab the back of his head and crush your lips onto his. He reacts instantly, wrapping one arm protectively around your hips and placing the other gingerly on your cheek. Suddenly it’s all so ridiculous. Desert island, an asshole with a heart of gold, a fucking smoke monster? It’s ridiculous. You can’t help but laugh into the kiss and he pulls back slightly to give you a look.
“You got a problem there, Sunshine?” he asks, with a smile large enough to match yours.
“Not at all, Dimples. Not at all,” you say and pull him back into you.