After they left for the hospital, Sawyer got the whiskey out of the cupboard, while Shannon went to inform Terry that Boone had left and wasn't coming back anytime soon, so he should wrap up whatever it was he was working on, clean up the kitchen and head off for the night.
When she got back he'd already poured a couple of drinks for the two of them, figuring she definitely needed one. Shannon thought about the fact that she hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, so was downing a good sized shot of whiskey really a wise choice?
"You hungry? She asked, sitting at the table.
"I'm always hungry," he smirked.
"Jeeze, Sawyer, is everything with you always about sex?" she shook her head, then held up her hand, "Don't answer that."
He laughed, "Yeah, Sticks, I'm hungry. What've you got?"
"Whatever you're going to make us, you know I can't cook." She rolled her eyes.
"We'll let's just see what Metro's got in his fridge." He pulled open the door, and stuck most of his upper body in the appliance, "Jesus, Fish Sauce, what the hell is that, Cilantro Paste, don't the boy got any normal food? Ahh!" he sounded triumphant. He emerged with a container of eggs in one hand, and a loaf of homemade bread in the other. "Scrambled eggs, toast and bacon?"
"Bacon?" Shannon repeated, laughing.
"Yeah, you know, little strips of pork meat, nice 'n salty, great with eggs and toast?" he clarified, unnecessarily.
"You actually think, in that tiny little pea brain of yours, that Boone allows us to have bacon?" She laughed again, "Nitrates, fat, salt," she listed the negatives, her mouth almost watering at the thought of the forbidden food, "that it actually tastes great, and god damn do I want bacon right now. Thanks asshole."
"Well, Sweet Cheeks, let's go get us some, you got a store out front. You must sell it, even if it's like poison to Metro, he's gotta cater to the customers." He reasoned.
"I've got a better idea." She smiled and nodded, rising from her place at the table. "Come." She ordered, grabbing her leather jacket and car keys.
She pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road.
"Where are we goin'?" he asked.
"Grocery store." She replied.
"Darlin' you could 'a got bacon from your own store, you know that right?" he reminded her.
"We charge too much." She answered.
"So it's cheaper to get in your car and drive who knows how far to the grocery store?" he frowned at her.
"Shut up." She turned onto a particularly twisty road, one that lead no where near the grocery store, and pushed her foot to the floor. The powerful sports car responded immediately, surging into the next turn. She started to regret that the top wasn't down, but it was December, even in California it was still cold at night. Fuck it, she decided, we've both got coats on, she pulled the car to the shoulder. Sawyer just looked at her in silence, as she pushed the button and retracted the roof. When it was down she pulled back on the road, pushing the car to its' limits again. He sat easily in the passenger seat, hands loose and relaxed in his lap, chuckling every now and then as the tires bit and screeched on the pavement. Boone would have been in panic mode by now, eyes squeezed tightly closed, hands clenched around door handle and armrest, breathing fast, pleading silently with her to slow down.
The thought of Boone brought her back to reality. She slowed down and pulled into a rest stop, parking under the lone street lamp. Turning the car off, she sat for a second before opening the door and getting out. There was a picnic table beside the light, she climbed up on the bench and sat on the table top. She put her face in her hands, as she heard the other door open and the approach of footsteps.
"You mind tellin' me what's goin' on here?" Sawyer asked her.
"I couldn't stay there, the empty house, with them gone, I couldn't. All I could think about was where they were going, and why." It wasn't really an explanation, but it was the best she could offer.
"You got it bad, Sticks." He commented.
"What?"
"All that time away, bet all you done was think 'a Metro, didn't you?" Sawyer sneered at her, but not maliciously.
"I thought about him, yeah," she allowed. Every minute of every day, she thought to herself.
"You fuck other guys?" He asked, nonchalantly.
Shannon was outraged, "You're a pig! And it's certainly none of your business."
"So I'll take that as a yes." He looked at her calmly.
"Where are you going with this?" She lost her anger, more intrigued with where he was headed.
"Shannon, I never loved anyone or anythin' after my folks died, I didn't want to take the chance, but you girl, you and Boone, its true love, pure and simple." He drawled. "I guess I was always kind of jealous of that. When you left him, I couldn't figure it out. I'm a good judge 'a character, you gotta be, what I do, did, I guess." He corrected. "I couldn't figure out why you'd throw away somethin' other people only dream of. So I gotta guess, you weren't runnin' away from somethin' as much as you were lookin' for somethin' else, cause what you had scared the crap outta you."
"I told you on the phone, in the summer, why I left, I was too young, I wasn't ready." She reminded him.
"And you also told me that you'd always thought you hated him. When you realized that wasn't true, I repeat, it must 'a scared the crap outta you." He hadn't forgotten the conversation they'd had.
She hung her head and closed her eyes, "Yeah, a little. Well, maybe more than a little."
"The all wise 'they' say it's always the guys who're scared of commitment, half the time it's the women too, I think." He observed, looking down at the parking lot's surface. He looked back at her, "He know?"
She knew what he'd gone back to his initial question, "He knows," she confirmed. "I told him about the other men.
"And I'll bet he's okay with that, ain't he?" He posed the question rhetorically, but she answered it anyway.
"Yeah, he's okay with it." God he was making her feel so ashamed of herself, but she figured she'd earned it.
"He loves you more than you deserve, and much more than is good for him, you know that, right?" It was a statement, more than a question.
She closed her eyes, and shivered, the adrenaline from the car ride was starting to wear off, and the cold was seeping, insidiously, through her jacket. "I know." She wondered when he'd become so insightful.
He walked over to the table and leaned over, putting a finger under her chin and tipping her face up. They looked into each others' eyes; she thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her. "Love him back just as much." He smiled a bit sadly.
She took a jagged breath, close to tears, then tried to shake it off, "You turning into a romantic on me, James?"
He stood back and grinned, his dimples front and centre, the mood completely changed, the serious tone gone. "Always been one, Sticks, you just never noticed."
She shivered again.
"Come on, girl, let's get you warm." He held his hand out to help her off the table.
After they put the roof back up, she handed him the car keys, her need to push the envelope, live life a little bit on the edge, gone. He took them, then came around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, she smiled at the gesture. He slid behind the wheel and drove out of the rest area.
Shannon directed him to the grocery store, he drove the car competently, not that she was particularly surprised by that. In another life, she could have ended up with a man like Sawyer, maybe even Sawyer himself, she always had gone for men quite a bit older than herself, when she was still denying her love for Boone, that is.
He pulled into the grocery store parking lot and killed the engine. The bright lights of the store grated on them a bit, after the darkness of the drive and the subdued lighting of the rest area. They got the bacon and Shannon stopped in the soft drink aisle to grab a bottle of mix for the whiskey. He grimaced at the thought of ruining perfect good booze, by diluting it with pop, and they headed for the checkout.
Sawyer stood staring at the cover of one of those trashy tabloids, reading about some two headed alien baby or mutant rabbit, Shannon figured, while she watched the cashier scan their purchases. Fuck, she thought, he probably believes those ridiculous stories.
He sensed her scrutiny and glanced at her, "You believe the crap they try to make people believe, Christ." He shook his head and went back to scanning the magazines.
She laughed; sometimes she forgot that the hillbilly image he wrapped around himself, only served to mask the depth of his intelligence.
"You husband's very attractive." The girl behind the counter ventured, blushing furiously
How the hell did the girl know Boone? Shannon wondered, before realizing that she meant Sawyer. "Yeah, he is." She looked at him, tall, well built, his long blonde hair hanging in his face, the killer dimples and the, oh so sexy, southern accent. While she appreciated all his attributes, they did absolutely nothing for her, the only man she'd every truly wanted was much shorter, with brown hair, and to die for grey eyes. She suddenly wanted to go home very badly indeed, hoping, futilely she realized, that they were back by now.
They rushed in the back door to the sound of the phone ringing, she asked Sawyer to answer it while she ran for the bathroom. He tapped on the door after a few minutes, "Metro's on the phone." He called through the door.
She couldn't quite make out his words, but figured it might be Boone, she hurried to finish, then pulled open the door, "Who?"
"Your husband, he's in a bit of a mood." He had the phone pressed up against his chest.
"You said something, didn't you?" she took the phone from him, "Boone?"
He wandered away in the direction of the kitchen; she followed as she received the non-update from the hospital.
"They're still waiting," She informed him as she entered the kitchen. He was already starting to get supper started. Evidently an adept observer, he knew were Boone kept all the relevant kitchen equipment he needed to prepare their meal. She put his glass of whiskey on the counter, close to him, then dumped hers into a bigger glass and added ice and mix.
She sat at the table, watching him, the two of them making conversation easily. When dinner was ready he served it unceremoniously and pulled up a chair, shovelling the food in like it was his last meal.
After doing the dinner dishes, they moved into the den, turning the TV on to some sappy old romantic comedy. They had a few more drinks and some coffee, Sawyer's wasn't anywhere near as good as Boone's, but Shannon wasn't going to say anything about that, they watched the movie and commented on it snidely.
Boone let himself in the back door, Andrew in his arms; he'd fallen asleep almost before they left the hospital parking lot. He sniffed the air, was that bacon he smelled? Someone had been cooking, and, since the house hadn't been burned to the ground, he figured it couldn't have been Shannon. He was glad that Sawyer had thought to feed them. Some frying pans and dishes were stacked in the drain rack by the sink, there were two plates, he noted.
He could hear the TV from the den, but wanted to get the boy settled before anything else, so he headed up the back stairs to Andrew's bedroom.
He knelt down on one knee, and draped Andrew's legs across his other knee as he pulled the covers back, then laid the boy on the bed. He undid his shoes and pulled them off his feet, followed by his socks. They'd cut most of the way up the sleeve of his jacket and hoodie before applying the cast, Boone briefly considered getting some scissors and finishing the job, but thought that it could really wait until tomorrow. Besides, he really didn't want to run the chance of waking him up, so he figured he'd just let him sleep in it. Andrew had been more than just a bit upset at having his favourite coat ruined, but Boone had reassured him that he'd definitely buy him a new one. He did pull the ruined jeans off him, though, before getting some extra pillows from the chest at the foot of the bed. He placed them by his left side and carefully elevated the broken wrist, then pulled the covers over him.
He kissed him on the forehead and silently wished him a peaceful sleep, then headed back down stairs. He stopped in the kitchen long enough to get himself a beer, then went down the hall to the den.
As he entered the room, he was more than a little perturbed to see that Shannon and Sawyer were sitting on the couch, she had her head on his chest, his arm was around her shoulder. Sawyer caught the movement in his peripheral vision and looked quickly at Boone, putting his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.
Boone smiled, and moved around the coffee table to look at her face, he was amused to see that, in her sleep, she was drooling a little on Sawyer's shirt. He put his beer on the table, and looked at Sawyer, 'You want me to take her upstairs?' he pushed the words at the man, not sure if it'd work or not, after all his relationship with Sawyer wasn't that close. Sawyer's eyes widen a bit as he got them, he looked at Boone in consideration; they both appeared a little surprised.
He shook his head, and pushed her up off his chest, then moved around in front of her and picked her up easily. He nodded his head for Boone to precede them upstairs.
In their bedroom Boone pulled the covers back, chuckling a bit to himself at the repetition of the action as, for the second time that night, he put one of his family members to bed. Sawyer laid her down on the sheets and kissed her forehead before he left the room. She was already bare foot, so Boone just pulled off her jeans and covered her. Leaning down he kissed her in the same spot Sawyer had, then left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
Back downstairs in the den he thanked Sawyer for sitting with her for the evening, and for feeding her.
"Yeah, boy, that was a real hardship, sittin' with a beautiful woman for a few hours. I should get overtime pay for that." He responded, smiling at Boone.
They both fell silent, watching the TV for a bit.
"She loves you," Sawyer suddenly said, apropos of nothing.
"Huh?" Boone asked, stupidly.
"Your sister, Shannon, I mean," he clarified, "she really loves you."
"I hope so," he closed his eyes, frowning, not wanting to let Sawyer see his insecurity.
"Damn, boy. When you gonna wake up and smell the coffee?" Sawyer asked.
"I can smell the coffee, James, I'm just a little afraid to drink it is all." Boone decided to come clean.
"You gotta stop this, Boone. You're not some pathetic sixteen-year-old with a crush, and I don't think the rest of us are prepared to go through another one of your meltdowns with you." Sawyer warned.
"I know." He said simply. "She's been back six months now, and Claire says she's not going to leave me again. Sometimes I just let myself get too worked up about it." He looked up at Sawyer, "I'm not going to make it, if she leaves me again." He admitted.
"She's not going to." He responded, decisively.
They just looked at each other for a few seconds.
Boone took a deep breath, "I'm going to bed, see you in the morning." He rose.
"Night, Metro." Sawyer went back to watching the idiot box.
Halfway down the hall something occurred to him, and he turned back around, "Bacon?"