He awoke to the pounding at the door downstairs. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 4:15. Who the hell would be knocking on the door at that hour, he wondered. He moved to get out of the bed, his action waking Shannon.
"What?" she muttered thickly.
"There's someone downstairs," he answered.
She came more awake "It's Sawyer."
"Are you sure?" he asked before he could stop himself. Of course she was sure.
She reached for her underwear and grabbed his t-shirt from the floor. "I'll find out what he wants." Out in the hall, Tom was starting downstairs, she stopped him "It's Sawyer, I'll handle it." He nodded and went back into his bedroom.
She padded down the stairs and opened the back door, "Sticks" he grabbed her in a hug.
She pawed him off her. "What the fuck do you want James?" she was pissed, and used his real name.
"Aww, is that any way to treat a friend? I just wanted to see you guys. Hey Metro!" he acknowledged Boone's presence, as Boone reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Sawyer," Boone answered warily, he'd never completely forgiven Sawyer for beating the shit out of him.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" she asked him.
"Yeah, do you folks always get up this early?" he replied.
"We do when there's some asshole knocking at the door," Boone muttered darkly.
"James," Heather greeted him with a kiss before heading to the kitchen; she'd followed Boone down the stairs.
"Well it's way too early for me. I'm gonna grab some shut eye." He pushed past Boone and headed up the stairs.
He didn't wake until just before supper. While eating the meal Boone had prepared, he commented on what a great wife Boone would have made for some guy. "Asshole." Boone muttered under his breath for the fifth time.
After dinner they moved out to the back yard. Each one making their way to bed, over the course of the evening, until eventually only Boone and Sawyer remained. Sawyer had brought a bottle of whisky in from his car, and had poured himself and Boone each a glass of it. She looked at it warily, and then at Boone before kissing each one of them goodnight. There's no way Boone would be stupid enough to have more than one, she hoped.
Lying in bed later, she watched as he made his was unsteadily across the room. Tripping over something he muttered, "Ouch, fuck." Reaching the bed he lurched against it and fell sitting hard on the mattress. "Shit."
She reached up beside her and turned on the light, "Boone, are you drunk?" she asked incredulously.
"Naw," he turned his head a little too quickly and had to put his hand out to stop himself from falling across her.
She couldn't believe it! Carefully controlled Boone Carlyle was completely wasted. Sawyer, she thought angrily. "Boone, don't tell me you tried to keep up with Sawyer? What are you, like…five?" In the fourteen years she'd known him, she'd never once seen him drunk.
"You're pretty," he was grinning at her, trying to squint through one eye. "I love you."
Oh, my god, I should have known, he's a sloppy drunk. She covered her face with her hands, trying not to laugh. "Come on party boy. I want you to take a couple of aspirin, maybe it'll keep you from being too hung over in the morning." She got up and pulled him to his feet. As he staggered against her, she caught a whiff of his breath. He stunk of whiskey and…cigarettes? Oh, yeah, he was going to be sick in the morning. She dragged him to the bathroom, forcing a glass of water into his hands she shook two aspirin out and watched while he missed his mouth twice with them. He was swaying back and forth, shuffling his feet in an attempt to remain upright. She put toothpaste on his toothbrush, and handed it to him, hoping he wouldn't poke his eye out with it. She could be pissed at him, but she remembered the number of times before the island that she'd come home drunk and he'd put her to bed and covered for her with his mother.
Back in the bedroom she helped him take off his clothes, they smelled almost as bad as his breath had. She pushed him back on the bed. He closed his eyes, "Shan, why'sh the room shpinning?" This was too hilarious, Jesus she wished she had a video camera. She reached under the covers and pulled his right leg out and set his foot on the floor. She was just contemplating having her way with him in his completely inebriated state when he started snoring. Great, another first, she'd never heard him snore before either. She just hoped that when she came back to bed, he wouldn't puke on her in the night.
She grabbed the clothes she'd been wearing earlier and went to find the culprit.
He was sitting at a table in the back yard; the outside lights were on. He had a full glass in front of him and was pouring whiskey into another one. "I poured you a drink." He put the half empty sixty of whiskey back down and pushed the glass across the table towards her. She picked it up and downed it in one swallow.
"Why did you get him drunk?" she put the glass back down. Boone may have been an easy drunk, but she'd had lots of practice.
"Now Sticks, I certainly didn't hold the boy down and force the whisky down his throat. And last time I checked he was old enough to get drunk if he wanted." He was looking up at her.
She glanced at the half smoked cigarette in the second ashtray. "And what the hell possessed you to give him a cigarette?"
"After he had about six drinks in him, he asked for one. I was only bein' accomodatin', he is my host." Sawyer explained. "You know, I didn't realize someone could turn that shade of red without rupturin' somethin'," he mused, remembering Boone's reaction when he'd inhaled. "And watch out walkin' over there, I think he puked on the grass." He pointed vaguely at a corner of the yard.
She pushed her glass across the table at him for a refill. She gestured at the bottle as he raised it, "How much of that did he drink?"
"Oh, hard to say really, I guess about a third of what's gone." He pushed the glass back at her. "You gonna continue givin' me grief over Metro, or are we gonna do somethin' else?"
She walked over to him, and leaned in as if to kiss him, "No Sawyer, we're going to talk." She pulled back in satisfaction as the confusion crossed his face.
"Talk? You disappoint me Sticks," he shook his head.
"He's my husband now, Sawyer. And, anyway, you and I never had that kind of connection." She finally sat, in the chair facing him.
"No that's right, you went for Sayid, why you always pick the shorter men?" he wondered.
"Yeah, shorter, that's right., that's what I look for in a man, his height. How've you been?" she asked.
"I'm really gonna get off that easy?" he was surprised.
"Well actually, he's kind of funny. I've never, ever seen him drunk before! He actually told me I was pretty!" she laughed.
They made fun of Boone for a while. She recounted part of what had happened upstairs.
"Why'd you really come here, Sawyer?" she asked, after they'd finished making fun at his expense.
"I got some investment opportunities, with the settlement money from Oceanic. I've been kind of coastin' for the past year, it's kind of impossible for me to go back into my old line of work. What with my picture plastered all over the internet. I wanted Metro's opinion." He answered honestly. "He may be a cheap drunk, but I know he's shrewd with money, and I'm no fool."
"You really came here to ask my brother for business advice? Sawyer, you beat the snot out of him, what made you think he'd help you?" she couldn't believe it.
"Just because I caught him pilferin' my stuff, don't mean I don't recognize his particular expertise. I mean look around you, you're not exactly livin' in a Tide box."
"No, we're not," she allowed.
"You talk to Jackass lately?" he wondered, grudgingly.
"He was here when Boone was sick," she didn't want to have to relive those hellish days.
"Yeah, I heard about that, think any of the rest of us could end up like that?" It was idle speculation on his part, he felt himself invulnerable, after all, he was Sawyer.
"I don't know, you'd have to ask Jack. Oh…I forgot that'd mean you'd actually have to speak to him." She looked at him, snidely.
"Ain't nothing I'd rather not do, Sticks, than talk to that dick head, but you already know that," he felt that familiar and unwelcome flush of inadequacy at the thought of Jack.
She was suddenly tired of the whole thing. "I'm going to bed, Sawyer, you sit out here, and wallow in self pity." She pushed herself away from the table. "Night," she said to him for the second time that night walking over and giving him a kiss.
"Night, Shan." She smiled at his slip, and headed upstairs to her drunken husband.
He came down the stairs slowly, the next morning, his hands holding each of the banisters. He moved over to sit at the table, his hair was soaking wet and dripping onto his t-shirt. He was barefoot. "Boone, why didn't you dry your hair?" she asked.
"I couldn't face the noise of the hair dryer, and even the thought of rubbing a towel over my head hurt." He looked a faint shade of green. He looked at Sawyer, "Why don't you look as bad as I feel?"
"I'm a professional, boy. Years of practice," Sawyer took a sip of his coffee. Even the smell of it made Boone's stomach curdle.
"God, I never want to touch booze again!" he felt nauseous.
"Too bad, party animal, drink this," Shannon put a Bloody Caesar down in front of him. She'd put an overly generous dose of Tabasco in it. She wanted him to feel better, but he was going to pay for it.
"Christ, what are you, a sadist? I don't want more alcohol!" he protested.
"Boy, if I was you, I'd drink it, she's right, it'll make you feel better." Sawyer agreed with her.
He picked up the glass and downed half of it. "Holy shit, you sadistic bitch, what'd you do, put half a bottle of hot sauce in it?" He was already turning red, and his eyes were watering.
"You deserved it," she retorted.
Just then Andrew reached over from his high chair and grabbed a fistful of his wet hair, tugging on it hard.
"Oh, Christ!"
A.N. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing; it's really great encouragement. Suggestions for new scenarios are greatly appreciated Thanks charsrox13 for asking for Sawyer. I've stopped putting the disclaimer that these stories take place in the world of "Hers," I figure by now it's just a given.