Chapter Seven

"It has only been three days since Thanksgiving. Do you usually decorate for Christmas so early?" Sayid watched Claire string up the stockings. She had made him attach a mantle to the wall of her hut, even though there was no fireplace.

"There has to be a gradual build up, Sayid. I like to decorate a little at a time, day by day. Then each day grows more exciting as that one special day approaches, until I'm so stirred up that…you're laughing at me."

"No," he said, swallowing the sound between tight lips. "I like to see you so…eager."

And he did like the warm glow the giddiness brought to her cheeks. He marveled at how lovely she was. Sayid had known that Claire was a beautiful woman, but in the same way he acknowledged a sunset was beautiful: it was an observable phenomenon. He hadn't noticed her, really noticed her, until the night of the Halloween party, when Sawyer's crass encouragement had called her to his attention.

He had pursued women before, of course, but only after they had made their interests clear. He had no difficulty setting a romantic scene and playing the gentleman once he suspected a woman felt some attraction, but he had thus far avoided the whole, messy first approach. It had therefore taken him three days to work up the courage to ask Claire on a walk. Then he had mistaken her quiet nature for aloofness, and he had feared she was only indulging him—until repressed impatience had caused her to demand a kiss. That directness pleased him. It made matters clear. But since that moment, she hadn't been at all clear about how he should proceed.

Sayid was accustomed to assertive women, and there was something so much easier, so much more effortless, in the childhood friend who reached for your hand first, or in the attractive woman who suggested a Saturday evening of knot tying. With Claire…matters were different. Sayid could never quite tell what she wanted, and she did not seem to want to tell him what she wanted either. If he continued to await her hints, as he had originally planned, he feared he would await her forever. She seemed to prefer that he take steps in the dark without knowing whether there was somewhere to land. It was, for him, an agonizing uncertainty, but there was also something unexpectedly arousing about her demureness, something that did far more than merely ignite the protector in his nature. Before Claire, he would have thought that only a forward woman could excite him…so it was strange to him, now, that this mild-mannered, sweet, soft-spoken creature hanging stockings on a useless mantle should have his full attention.

"But do you not fear," he asked, "that if you anticipate the day so vehemently, it will prove anti-climatic? Perhaps you should not draw out the suspense."

"You don't get it, do you, Sayid? The suspense is just as fun as the day—so you end up with more than just one day, you see?"

He shook his head. "But none of those days are the day. It does not bother you? The waiting?"

"The waiting makes it better," she insisted. "And I thought you were the patient type."

"I can be patient when patience is required. But I do not go out of my way to test my patience."

"I'm putting the wreath up now, too," she said, "and that's all for today. I don't put up the tree until later."

He handed her the tropical wreath she had fashioned from the materials he had gathered at her request and watched as she hung it above the mantle. "Thanks, Sayid, for humoring me. I know you don't celebrate Christmas. I hope all this doesn't…offend you."

"Well," he murmured, taking a step forward and sliding an arm about her waist, "as offensive as I find oversized laundry dangling from a disembodied mantle beneath the decaying refuse of the jungle floor, I will endure it for the sake of the affection I hold for you."

He loved the way she smiled, the way she bit down on her bottom lip, just a little…

She was still smiling when he leaned in to kiss her. He began with a soft pressure, but he soon found himself growing more urgent, and he was pleased to discover her responding eagerly…for awhile. Then she actually ducked away from him and left him puckering at the air. He quickly regained himself.

"Sorry," she murmured, nodding in the direction of Aaron, who had just toddled into that part of the room and was staring up at them with amazement.

"It is growing late," Sayid replied, glancing at Aaron, "and I know you have to put him to bed. I should be getting back to…Hurley."

Claire now had her arms draped around her son, who was attempting to twist his body back and forth in a free flow pendulum within her grip. "Rose said she'd be happy to watch him tomorrow evening. Aaron, I mean. Not Hurley."

"Well, Hurley could likewise benefit from some watching. He nearly burned down our hut last night because he forgot to blow out his candle." They made arrangements to spend some time together the following evening, and Sayid gave Claire a quick kiss on the cheek before making his way back to his hut.