Again, be warned, it's just my bad attempt at Sana humour.
Part 2.
She returned to the beach, to the hastily built shelter that she now called 'home', clean and clad in new clothes, a whole pile of other garments in her arms which were now neatly folded and stowed safely in the back behind her sleeping area.
"Knock, knock?"
She knew his voice automatically. She knew his voice anywhere for he'd done more than enough jabbering in the short time that she'd known him to last her a lifetime. It was cocky again, no doubt indicating that he had made a full recovery from near-death and was back to his old, irritating self and with a sigh and a questioning glance she turned to glare at him as he popped his head through the tarps of her tent.
"Anybody home?"
She rolled her eyes at his grin, blowing a loose curl of ebony hair out of her face with a puff of air from the corner of her mouth and crossed her arms.
"What do you want?" she queried, a little more harshly than she had intended. They were safe after all, well as safe as they could be, and he had done nothing to warrant her irritation…yet.
Sawyer feigned distress, placing a palm against his heart as if her words had indeed wounded him beyond repair, reaching out his other hand perhaps to ward her off or to placate her.
"Easy now, Sugar-Pie." he responded, smirk flickering at the corners of his mouth ever so briefly before he managed to suppress it once more. He was most definitely up to something. "Is that any way to speak to a guest? Come all the way out here to see you special like?"
He quirked his eyebrows, awaiting a retort from her and moving to step inside her shelter unbidden but Ana stopped him before he got very far. A palm placed against his chest, pushing him back with a shove and stepping outside herself, squaring her gaze upon him as the tarps swished closed behind her and blocked her home from his scrutiny.
"To be considered a guest, first you have to be invited. Did I invite you?" she raised her chin and allowed her hands to rest lightly at her hips as her eyes flickered over him, measuring him up, trying to learn why exactly he was there pestering her and absently she noted that he was wearing that black shirt again. Clean and freshly washed by his own personal little slave in the hatch, and she knew that he had worn it for a particular reason. The bullet hole left un-mended revealed his still angry looking scar to her inspection.
Ah, so he had come for an apology. He was so predictable.
His chuckled drew her gaze back up to meet his and something glinted in the depths of his azure eyes. Something cocky and self-sure and it made her stomach flip-flop with a sudden wariness. He was most definitely up to something…
"I just thought that we ain't had one of our deep an' meanin'ful conversations for a long time now." he stated suddenly, stepping back so that he could lean against one of the tree trunks that supported her shelter, folding his own arms across his chest smugly. "Thought you mighta missed my wonderful and…stimulatin' company."
Ana snorted, desperately holding back the wild, incredulous laughter that wanted to leap forth from her throat, and blinked her eyes closed for an extended moment not quite believing what Sawyer had just said to her. He had some nerve. Really he did. But instead she allowed herself a slightly derisive smirk and glanced back up at him again, changing the subject. She had no patience for his games at the minute.
"What do you want, Sawyer?"
He remained silent for so long, simply staring at her steadily, that she thought he'd gone mad or fallen asleep with his eyes open. He was more than likely, however, attempting to make her feel uncomfortable and Ana wasn't about to let him win that bout on her home turf. So she held her tongue too, waiting him out, cocking her head to one side and raising her eyebrows at him inquiringly.
And eventually, after another length of mute gaping, he sniffed indignantly, slitted his still watching eyes cautiously and grinned wider.
"An 'I'm sorry', wouldn't go amiss, Cupcake…"
Bingo.
Ana titled her head again, not holding back her laughter that time but Sawyer kept on smiling and she suddenly had the sinking feeling that he had some sort of bargaining chip over her.
"…But that ain't the real reason I'm here, Peaches."
And that stopped her dead. Ice water trickled down her spine and pooled in the pit of her stomach. What had she done? What had he seen or heard that could possibly give him such a confident, conceited manner? Or was he possibly just bluffing…?
He leaned in towards her abruptly, taking her by surprise but his arms still remained folded as he spoke to her in a conspiratorial growl. Cool blue eyes bored into hers as he leant down to bring them level. His lips curled yet again, revealing pearl white teeth that seemed to mock her as well.
"Nice pants," he murmured to her and she frowned in confusion. Not quite certain that she had understood what he had just said. And guardedly she was about to reply with a 'Thanks, but they're not mine. I found them in the unclaimed clothes pile,' but Sawyer's devilish snort stopped her before she had finished taking in the breath to start the sentence. His irises burned blue fire, dancing with laughter and mockery although they did stray, flicking down to take a once over look at her now that she was clean and freshly dressed.
"Not those pants, Chica." he didn't hurry in his examination of her, didn't even hide it as he let his gaze return to her face of it's own accord and likewise he did not feel hurried to explain himself and his comment to her.
Another annoying snort sounded from him before he held out his hand…
…And there they were, dangling from the crook of his finger. Her underwear. The ones she had stuffed into the washing machine before Kate had appeared and ruined her concentration.
"Imagine my surprise, Darlin', when Freckles came brought me back my laundry and, lo and behold, I find these fine lookin' things lockin' legs and gettin' frisky with my humble boxers." he was gloating now. Entirely too gleeful at the look of shock upon her face that she tried to stamp down desperately.
Ana tossed her ebony ponytail over her shoulder and held out a hand towards him. Scowling now.
"Gimme them!" she demanded, making to snatch the undergarment from his grasp when he refused to hand them over immediately, but he was too fast, jerking them away.
"Ah, ah, ah, Chica!" he warned condescendingly, wagging the forefinger of his free hand back and forth. "Better be nice to me or I'm fixin' to keep these."
"And I'm 'fixin' to smack you upside your head again!" she retorted, ferocious now. "Give them back!"
Sawyer spun away from her second grab-attempt, swifter than an injured man should have been able to in Ana's estimation, and a chuckled rumbled deep from within his chest. Obviously he was very pleased with himself.
"You're such a pervert." she snorted, calming herself and folding her arms, securely clamping her hands beneath her armpits to refrain from lashing out at him and earning herself more inhospitality from the other survivors who all seemed to have fallen head-over-heels, blindly in love with the annoying southerner upon his miraculous return to health.
The triumphant tint in his eyes told her that she was only playing into his hands by getting mad at him. He wanted something from her and he wasn't likely to comply with her demands until he got what he wanted.
"What do you want?" she growled low and Sawyer blinked at her, pretending that he hadn't quite caught her words.
"What was that, Sugar? You're mumblin'." he beamed, cupping his free hand about his ear and Ana ground her teeth together hard.
"What. Do. You. Want?" she repeat slowly and deliberately and his teasing act was dropped and forgotten in a heartbeat as he once again bent so that their stares were on the same level.
"I want you to repeat after me," he smirked, linking his hands behind his back as he spoke. "'Sawyer, you handsome devil you.'" he ignored her derisive snort. "'I'm mighty sorry that I smacked you up and stepped on you're bullet wound and got it infected, but I only did it because my inner feelings for you are love and adoration and I was unable to convey them properly because I was so wound up with the sexual tension that your body stirs in me.'"
Ana laughed out loud, throwing her head back and howling out her hilarity.
"In your dreams, Cowboy!" she managed to choke out between her amusement, fingers flicking the jovial tears from the corners of her eyes. "I'm not saying that!"
But Sawyer's smile remained confident as he straightened, making to leave her and walk away as he offered her a blasé shrug at her devout opposition.
"Sawyer!" she called after him, irritation taking it's place at the forefront of her emotions once more, and languidly he glanced back at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. "You don't give them back and I'll tell everyone that you go around stealing women's underwear!" she stated with a bitter smile and Sawyer clicked at his teeth, turning back and covering the small distance between them again.
"You do that, Tattle-Tail, an' I'll tell everyone how my shoulder really got infected." he countered confidently.
How he had read her desire to ease the silence and awkwardness between herself and the community that she was now forced to reside in was a mystery to her but she didn't like it. Her jaw ground together of it's own accord almost as she glared up at his jovial features, wanting nothing more than to slap them clean off his face but she didn't. Instead she took a deep, calming breath, biting her tongue until she was certain that she could contain the expletives that wanted to pour forth and out at him.
"I'm sorry I hit you and stood on your shot wound, okay?" she replied at length, waiting patiently for his reaction and adding an "I mean it." for good measure.
And Sawyer looked down upon her as if he we making the hardest decision in his life.
"They weren't the right words, Sweetheart…" he teased and Ana rolled her eyes, releasing her impatience with him in a huff from where she had been holding it in her lungs.
"Haven't you ever heard of the word 'overkill'?" she muttered and it was his turn to laugh out loud at her dark frown.
"Yes, Ma'am. I have." he replied, his grin lancing sideways as he stooped, reaching around behind the tree holding up her shelter and retrieved a surprisingly neatly folded pile of her old clothes, her black vest top, her worn jeans and finally her undergarments atop that, before straightening and thrusting them towards her so that she had to scramble to keep them from falling to the dirty ground and needing another wash. "Overkill is your middle name."
And he patted the pile of clothing clasped in her arms before tipping an imaginery hat at her and swaggering back out onto the beach, into the sun and back to his 'adoring' companions.
-oOo-