First Lost fanfic ever. Better be good.
Kate Austen loves Jack Shephard.
She loves the way he says her name. "Kate." How it's short and sweet, and how he uses it so often you would think a girl would get tired of it. But Kate doesn't. She longs to hear him say it; she longs to hear him call to her and want her and need her. She thinks it's almost unhealthy. But she can't help it. Because when Jack says her name, and looks at her in that intense stare of his, she feels like she's the only girl in the world. And then she knows she's his.
She loves the way he smiles at her. How his mouth slowly, and almost cautiously breaks into a small grin, the corners of his lips spreading from ear to ear. At times, he doesn't smile much. Like when they were on the island and his main focus was to get them off. To get her off. Or when he gets too focused on his work, and he spends long hours at the office. Trying to fix things. But somehow, at the end of it all, when he finishes a tough surgery, or when they finally set foot on the main land, and Jack cups her face in his strong, gentle hands, and just smiles, she wonders if she can ever be happier.
She loves the way he looks at her. How his grey eyes, deep and intense, just seem able to bore into her own. How it just always seems like he honestly just wants to look at her. She's never had that before. She knows she's lucky now. She's glad she's lucky. Glad she can have someone want her so badly, need her so badly. Glad to have someone look at her in that way. Look at her like she's the only thing that matters. And to Jack, she is.
She loves the way he holds her. How his big, strong arms, wrap around her in a way that makes her feel so safe. And so protected. She had never felt that way before, not until she had met Jack. Ever. And when that feeling of protection is away from her, when Jack is away from her, she wonders how she could ever live without it. And then, how those same strong and protective arms can touch her gently and softly. Like when she's lying in bed beside him, her head on his chest, his breathing heavy. And even then, he holds her close. Soft, gentle. Lingering touches; his hand on hers, his arm brushing her side. Every time, he sends warm chills down her spine.
Kate Austen loves a lot of things about Jack Shephard. But maybe, what she loves most about him is the way he loves her.
Gosh, I hope you like it. Please, please, please, please like it. At least review.
