Pairing(s): Desmond/Claire, implied C/C and DesPenny
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine; neither are its characters. They're property of JJ Abrams et al, ABC, and Disney.
Summary: She knows that it can never be anything more; that it shouldn't be. Prequel/Companion piece to The Hardest Thing.
Claire knew that there was no such thing as an innocent flirtation. What she didn't know was why she had kept referring to the flirting exchanged between herself and Desmond as such. Except that it was innocent.
Sure, he was a good-looking man in rather good shape that had managed to get a really nice tan while sailing around the island. And she knew from the way he looked at her that he found her attractive.
But nothing could happen.
She had Charlie and she was really fond of him…most of the time. And Desmond had Penny…or, at least, memories and thoughts of her.
It didn't matter how often they flirted. It was friendly and innocent.
The occasional brushing of their fingers sent a spark through her. Every time their eyes met her heart sped up. Each smile he gave her had her blushing.
These were distractions from the reality that surrounded them. People she'd come to know and care about were being kidnapped or killed off by mysterious figures roaming through the jungles. She and the other survivors of Flight 815 had been stranded for four months; he'd been in the hatch for three years. The possibility of being rescued grew dimmer each day. The fact that she might have to raise her son on this island, at the mercy of people who'd taken her and had tried to take her son from her wasn't something she wanted to think about. She didn't want to wonder if Charlie had replaced his dependency on drugs with a dependency on her and Aaron.
They all needed their distractions. Sun had her garden, Locke had his hunts, Hurley had his golf course, Charlie had his guitar, and Rose had her meditations and prayers. She had her walks and her flirtations with Desmond.
Innocent, friendly flirtations that wouldn't amount to anything.
There'd be no handholding or lingering kisses. No cuddling or walks along the beach together. Just the occasional innuendos and heated stares.
But that was okay. It's enough distraction.
It's enough to catch her off guard when it starts to rain as she walks from Sun's garden back to the beach. She was sure that she was being abducted again when a hand shot out, covering her mouth as an arm wrapped around her waist and she was pulled behind a tree. Relief quickly replaced fear when she was turned around and recognized Desmond. She relaxed against him.
He placed a finger over his lips and pointed. She turned and through the foliage she could see movement and caught glimpses of clothing. Her body tensed and she felt him pull her closer to him, his arms tightening around her, attempting to comfort her.
After the movement stopped they stayed like that for several minutes, not wanting to risk exposing themselves to the Others.
His hold loosened and she leaned her head back against his chest.
His words were quiet, "Sorry if I scared you."
She turned, "Better scared than…" she trailed off, looking at the ground.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She looked at him, "Not really."
He nodded, "I can't say that I blame you."
Silence surrounded them as the rain stopped.
Claire became uneasy with the silence. And being alone and in such close proximity to Desmond.
This could lead to something far from innocent if they weren't careful.
"We should get back to camp. We need to get dry."
"Right."
"Right." She exhaled and began to walk away.
"Claire?"
She stopped and hesitated before turning, "Yes?"
He was there, standing toe to toe to her, peering down at her, his eyes searching hers, and she knew what was going to happen. She knew that she should step back instead of tilting her head up as his hands came up and cradled her face before he brought his lips down on hers.
She knew that she shouldn't part her lips for him. That she should pull away as his hands dropped to her shoulders then down to her waist, not unbutton his shirt and run her hands run up and down his chest.
They parted, both of them panting, trying to catch their breath.
One kiss didn't mean anything.
"We shouldn't do this," she breathed.
"We shouldn't," he agreed, his hands lingering on her hips, his fingers loosening then tightening repeatedly.
She should walk away now. Well, first she should unhook her fingers from around the belt loops of his pants. Her eyes traveled down his chest to the waistband of his pants as she did so.
"We could go to the caves," she said, slowly bringing her eyes back up to his.
His eyes darkened with desire, "Then we should go."
Well, there went the so-called innocence of their flirtations.