Author's Note: I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am simply too lazy and too busy to write a full-length fic. Instead, I'm just going to start posting the little vignettes that pop into my head that I actually end up writing. Why the hell not? Don't look for a plot here, this is simply a little episode, a glimpse, a little scene for you to enjoy. This one is way sappier than the kind of stuff I usually write, and I'm a little embarrassed about that because I'm a very non-sappy person, but here it is anyway. Enjoy.
"Sorry my legs are kind of stubbly," Kate said bashfully as Sawyer threw her jeans into a corner of the tent. "It's just that – "
"Kate," said Sawyer, using her real name and caressing it on his tongue like a prayer. "Don't apologize. This ain't about that." And he kissed her again, softly, as if to punctuate his point.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He chuckled. "I mean, have you taken a look at where we are? I don't expect your legs to be smooth as silk." And he ran his hand up one of them to prove himself. "Feels like heaven to me," he said with a smile.
She laughed a little, and there was a beat in which she lay gazing at the dim outline of his face above hers there in the darkness. "So what is it about?" she asked finally.
He sighed and paused, speaking gruffly into her neck and pausing to kiss it between words. The rough stubble of his beard scratched against her skin with his words. "It's about you – and me – here – alone – finally – together."
His lips were on hers, hot and hungry, and she pulled away to look at him. "Just say it Sawyer," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Please?"
"Say what?"
"I need to hear it." Her voice was barely a whisper.
He exhaled and pulled away from her a bit. "I can't, Kate," he said.
"Why not?" There was sadness and confusion in her voice. "I'm not afraid to say it. I'll say it if you won't."
"Don't, baby."
"You mean you don't –" she began, the tears rising up in her voice.
"What I mean, Kate," he said, his voice gaining gravity, "is that I can't say it because if I do –"
"If you do?"
"Then that makes it real." He sighed and flopped down beside her on his back.
"I don't understand," she said, trying not to cry, turning on her side to face him. "It is real, Sawyer. It's real for me."
She reached out to touch his face and realized that it was wet, and he turned away hastily from her touch, embarrassed. There was a long moment before he spoke, choking on the words. "I can't lose you, Kate."
She made a little sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "You're not making any sense. I don't understand what you're trying to say!"
"You really want me to say it?" he said softly. "Fine, I'll say it. I love you, Kate. I love you." There was deep sincerity in his voice and the undercurrent of tragedy that undercut most of the serious things he said.
"Was that so hard?" she asked sadly, with a small bitter laugh.
"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. "And you wanna know why? Because now that I've said it, I feel like – like now it's real. It's out there. I can't take it back. And now that I've said it, I just know that someone or something is going to take away the one person I've ever said that to, ever felt that for, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to feel this fucking good."
And suddenly her hands on his wet face, her lips on his lips, her breath in his ear. "You do," she said. "And don't you dare argue with me, you bastard."
He chuckled a little and pulled her closer to him. "You're wrong, baby," he said, shaking his head. "But for now, I'll let you win the argument."
She kissed him hard, sliding her hand down under the waistband of his jeans and taking him in her hand until she felt him moan into her mouth.
"I love you, Sawyer," she said into his neck, little more than a breathless whisper.
"I know, baby," he said. "I know."