Resolution
Summary: After getting off the island, Sawyer spends his New Year's Eve making a promise.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sawyer/Claire
A/N: This fanfic is in celebration for both the New Year and for the Second Annual ConMama Day!
Sawyer sat at the bar, empty shot glass in one hand and the other balled up in fury. His teeth ground together inside his head. The TV mumbled incoherently in the background and the jukebox, for the first time that night, was silent. This was mostly because there was that anticipation buzzing around the air. It was ten minutes to midnight on New Year's Eve.
Vaguely, Sawyer wondered where Kate was. They had gotten off the island only two weeks before, just in time for Christmas. Needless to say, Kate was the first one on the rescue boat, fake I.D. in hand. Sawyer stayed behind because there wasn't enough room and the women (plus Jin, who refused to stay while his pregnant wife left) were the first to leave. Kate told him to meet her at this bar on New Year's Eve after most of the hype and confusion had hopefully died away.
He waited. Like an idiot, he waited for her. A bartender came up to him at about eleven o'clock and asked him if his name was James. At first Sawyer gave him dagger eyes, but soon realized there was only one person from the island who knew his real name. He told the bartender yes and she said he had a call at the end of the bar. He walked over and picked up the receiver that was laying in wait on top of the hook.
He said nothing, Kate's voice just sounded from the other end, "I'm sorry, Sawyer." The dial tone followed. So now he sat, fist crunching the sensitive skin of his fingers. He wasn't sure why he was still here. He supposed it was because he was pissed at himself for believing her. The same bartender who told him about the call came to him, bottle of whiskey already in hand. He nodded and she began to pour another shot for him.
"I'll have what he's having," a woman said as she sat down next to him. The voice and glint of blond hair in his peripheral vision sent a shock of recognition through his nerves. He looked to see the young, smiling face of Claire Littleton. He could not have been more surprised if he had seen a damn polar bear.
"Well, hey, there, Bluebell," he said, trying and failing to keep the sadness out of his voice. Claire noticed it right away.
"Kate stood you up?" she asked, putting a supportive hand on his arm. Sawyer was taken aback by the touch. She had always been one to offer comfort, to others, anyway.
"I thought William Wallace was the psychic," Sawyer shot back, but made no move to squirm away from her hand. Claire did not answer, but motioned to the bartender to fill up Sawyer's empty shot glass.
"How have you been?" Claire asked. The last time he had seen her was in the airport they flew them to after the boat had taken them to Fiji. A group of people who survived a horrible plan crash and the only thing the government could think of was to fly them on a plane and keep them in an airport.
"Oh, just peachy," Sawyer asked and drank he shot just as soon as the bartender had finished pouring it. Claire quietly stared at him until he eventually continued, "Got a job as a construction worker. Pretty good money."
"Sounds nice," she answered. He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Okay, fine, maybe not my card in the deck, but I think it's yours."
"What the hell? Is that some kind of Australian thing? Card in the deck?" Sawyer asked. He watched as she drank down her shot to which she made a funny face.
"Something my mom used to say," she shrugged, but with a smile. She paused for a moment and than continued, "So, how have you really been?"
"Well, I'm sitting at a bar drinking until I go blind and hoping that I'll stumble into a bear trap and die," Sawyer answered, signaling the bartender for another shot.
"Very interesting night planned, then?" Claire teased, giving him a smile. Silenced incased them, but it was mutual and comfortable. She sipped on a beer as he ordered yet another drink.
"How's Gilligan?" Sawyer asked suddenly. He looked up to the clock, five minutes left until the New Year.
"Good, starting to jabber and crawl. I swear, he just keeps growing," Claire said with a fond smile. Of course, leave it to Sawyer to state the obvious.
"That usually tends to be what they do," he mocked.
"Shut up," Claire laughed, hitting him on the shoulder.
"What about the hobbit?" Sawyer asked. Deep down he hoped that the little bugger had scampered off, back to his so called fame. After all, if he couldn't be happy, why should anyone else, let alone Charlie?
"Gone, he and his brother moved back to England. They're getting ready for the 'Comeback Tour,'" she rolled her eyes.
Four minutes.
"You deserve a lot better," Sawyer whispered. He was not entirely sure that she had heard him, but he could feel her eyes glued to the side of his face.
"Thanks," she whispered back. They both swallowed another mouthful of their respective drinks. If it wasn't for all the drunken partygoers, Sawyer was sure he would have been able to hear the tick of the clock.
Three minutes.
He had no resolution. Maybe he should. Resolve to never, ever fall for the girl who always ran away. He looked over in that second to Claire, who had been staring at him. She quickly turned away. This time, he watched her.
Two minutes.
There was a fever pitch to the party now, the patrons already starting to blow horns and twirl noise makers. Claire let out a laugh that was so quite most people could not hear it, but for Sawyer, it filled every molecule of air around him. Someone placed a party hat on her head which made the giggle even louder.
One minute.
The voices got louder and the mob around the bar began to grow. Claire stepped off from her chair and moved to stand next to Sawyer.
Ninety seconds.
"What's your resolution?" Sawyer asked her. Even with her closeness, he still had to yell in order to be heard.
"Be more adventurous," she called back. She was so close he could feel the heat of every syllable on his cheek.
Eighty seconds.
"That island wasn't adventurous enough for you?" Sawyer laughed. His vision began to slightly blur, all the shots he had taken were finally beginning to catch up to him.
"More than enough, it's addictive," she replied, giving him a cheeky smile. It took him a moment to realize that he had spun to face her and that she stood between his legs.
Seventy seconds.
Sawyer thought back to the island. How Claire blushed every time she saw him, how he got nervous just being within arms reach of her. He had never been so scared around anyone else. It was not fear of her, but fear of what it really meant.
Sixty seconds.
"I think I like you," his words slightly slurred. Claire stared at him as though he had grown a second head.
Fifty seconds.
"What?" she finally retorted. The entire time on the island he had chased Kate and when they had returned from their capture it seemed to be set in stone. The first time she saw them hold hands she could feel her chest fall through the sand and rock of the island.
"You heard me," this time Sawyer's voice was surer of itself.
Forty seconds.
"I'm not a rebound from Kate, Sawyer," she stated. He reached up and cupped her face in his hand. He looked dead center into her eyes like he was looking for some sort of vast treasure, by the look in his own eye, he had found it. He smiled, a real smile.
"Kate who?" he asked jokingly.
Thirty seconds.
There was a hair that was perfectly in place, but he brushed it back anyway. Her hair felt like silk against his fingers and they flowed together like the river. Kate had not loved him and he did not love her. It still hurt him deep down, but it taught him a valuable lesson.
Twenty seconds.
As with everything else in life, love is a means to make a broken heart stronger. Kate had not broken his heart, but had bent it so there was pain. But when he brought his arm around Claire's small waist and felt her bury her face in his neck the beat of his bent heart echoed through his entire body.
Ten seconds.
The group began to countdown. Sawyer and Claire could only hear in the distance. All they could do was stare at one another.
Nine.
He pressed his palm flat against the small of her back, sending warmth streaking to her heart.
Eight.
Bottles of champagne began to be passed around along with flutes. Sawyer drew a circle with his thumb on Claire's cheek.
Seven.
Everything happens for a reason. She remembered Locke saying that to her time and time again. Maybe he had been right, maybe everything that she had been through had led to this moment in time.
Six.
Maybe this is what she had been waiting for. Not since Aaron was born had she really felt different than only seconds before.
Five.
He drew her close and his breath hitched in his throat when her chest collided with his.
Four.
She smiled. A real smile. Her fingers ran along his earlobe. It tickled. He never had known his ears were ticklish.
Three.
He moved closer to her, feeling her sharp, uneven breath against his lips.
Two.
Her upper lip touched his lower lip hesitantly.
One.
Confetti was thrown into the air and horns blew around them. He pressed onto her lips completely. She was soft and tasted like candy, despite the alcohol she has earlier consumed. He felt her smile against his lips. He had never noticed if any woman had smiled against his kiss before. He had never cared.
Yeah, he had a good feeling about the New Year.