This has entirely nothing to do with me staring at a young Sayid look-a-like all the time. Nothing at all. I am human and therefore make errors, but I ask that you forgive them at least this once. I still don't like this little ficlet. But in the spirit of lonliness I decided to post it. Cheers.
Disclaimer: All characters and references to the show Lost are not my own and should not be regarded as such.
Shannon stared. A lot. And while she had never been in the habit of people-watching she found it her new favorite hobby. Or rather Sayid-watching. She had never grasped the concept of watching and sighing when you could simply do—many unsaintly thoughts washed through her mind bringing a rosy blush to her cheeks. Maybe now she understood a little better why those shy girls would watch older men over books and moon their hearts away, or why adolescent children would push each other around like they didn't care when the other scraped a knee.
Because facing your true feelings was a lot harder than it seemed. Or in her case, the guy was super smart and benevolent to an extent she hadn't exactly encountered before except for maybe the time that priestly man had taken her in one night in Paris as she'd gotten lost. Kindness from strangers wasn't something she was used to, neither was this slight repartee she and Sayid had developed. In a normal relationship for Shannon it was a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of deal and had been so for years.
She hadn't known the ache in her chest had been loneliness. She'd been a whopping six when her mother had died and had never talked about love, and then she'd gotten Sabrina and had never thought of love again.
Shannon peeked from over the dog-eared magazine pages to watch her current interest. She wished for a selfish second—or minute- that he would stare at her as intently as he stared at those maps. With a sigh she realized if she only talked to him he would at least pay half as much attention. But that meant those dark eyes would be focused solely on her. She both loved and loathed those eyes. She loved how they looked at her with intrigue, value and trust, but they saw through her. They saw the pain and longing buried under her catty insults.
Working so close to him had been torture. As for once she had been on the receiving of 'look but don't touch.' She longed with passion to run her hands through his hair if only idly. Shannon felt her fingers itch at the thought. While it may have not been obvious to anyone but Boone, Shannon loved hair. Curly dark hair—although that was a more recent development. She peeked again, with a small blush. Was this infatuation healthy? She certainly didn't think so, but whether it was detrimental to her hygiene or not, it certainly wasn't stopping her.
With cautious eyes, she glanced up again. Sayid was watching her now and a slow warmth formed in her cheeks and trailed through her body. It was unlike how any other man had made her feel. This giddiness was not entirely unwelcome as Shannon looked again to the man that made her feel this way. He was still staring though his hands had stopped tinkering with whatever object he held in front of him. It seemed as though Sayid had taken on a new hobby also and Shannon was definitely not adverse to the fact.
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