Title: Not the Type

author: jmaria

tth100 prompt: Kit

Crossover fandom: Lost

Characters: Kit, Sawyer, Hurley

Prompt: 073. Worship

Word Count: 482

Rating: FR-15

Disclaimer: Joss owns Kit, J.J. Abrams owns Sawyer & Hurley

Summary: She worshiped him with her eyes, but they found him unworthy

Mini-Series Set: Southern Comfort - 2

Not the Type

Another day spent in paradise, sipping at precious water and covertly watching Sawyer. She talked to Hurley a lot, and sometimes to that Shannon girl, and spent a lot of time being ignored by the general populace of Mystery Island. She was a watcher, by profession and by nature. She didn't talk to people if she didn't have to, she watched them instead.

Kit tugged at the safety pin that kept her jeans closed. They were her favorite jeans and instead of offering them up to become bandages or something, she'd held onto them. They reminded her of home.

"Hey, Kit," Hurley's shadow blocked her view of Sawyer - again.

"Hey, Hurley. What's up?"

"Dude, you're doing it again."

"Dude, I'm a girl, so add an ette to the end of that and second, what am I doing again?"

"That whole sickening stare-at-Sawyer and drool bit you've been doing for the past few days."

"I'm not -"

"Dude," Hurley started, "Ette, you're like worshipping at the altar of Sawyer."

"Worshipping? Only crazy monks and demonic little trolls do things like that. What? Have I been seen building my crazy-stalker-Sawyer Altar? Did Jack find it and mistake it for Kate's? Was there drama?" Kit said on a laugh.

"Don't rag on Jack like that, and no, your altar is safely hidden," Hurley replied. "He's just not -"

"A nice guy, and you're worried he'll go all ape-shit and attack me," Kit finished. "Have to notice me first. Kinda blank face girl here, not getting noticed a lot."

"Kate's been using your nickname on him."

"What?" Kit snapped, anger washing over her face. "That's my nickname. I don't recall running around and giving people permission to use it.

"He's been more, well, Sawyer-y since you called him it. Mutters about you."

Kit blinked. She'd just been played into this. Hurley was trying to show her that she was being o.c.d. about Sawyer, and it really wasn't fair.

"That was low, Hurley."

"Dude," Hurley paused, "Ette, it's not. Outta all the guys you could choose to worship, you pick the biggest, meanest S.O.B. on the island?"

"Hurley, I'm not -"

"Like you coulda picked Jack or Boone, he's a pretty guy, or Charlie, or Steve."

"Boone's a pretty guy?" Kit couldn't help grinning. "Why Hurley, are you -"

"No! I'm just saying - it's Sawyer!"

"My ears are burnin'. Look at the little kiddies playin in the sand." Sawyer glared down at them, a smug ass grin on his face.

"Southern Comfort, coming in with a good zinger, as always," Kit retorted, squinting up into the sun at him. "Heard Kate made an altar to you."

"What's that Kitty cat?"

"Wow, that's all you could come up with? Pretty lame, S.C." Kit said, pushing herself up out of the sand. "Better go destroy that altar."

"Ha!" Hurley laughed.

"What're you laughin' at?"

"Dude, it's funny."