Quickie:

Jerseygirl92 - I'm pretty sure anywhere you look up Chicken Pox, you'll find Oatmeal as a remedy. Plus, having experienced the Oatmeal bath when I had the pox, I figured I'd throw in the personal reference.
xox-emily-xox - Aw. Thank you for thinking of me. But please, no police. And pointless stories are fun! Know what? I have a chicken pox scar on the corner of my left eye. Hehehe.
LostSista - I thought the immunization to prevent the pox wasn't created when they were kids? Maybe I was mistaken. I'll have to check now.

I am SO sorry for the delay. I remain internet-less for this week as well. I'll try hard to find another source of internet so the intervals between updates aren't so terribly long.

Chapter 33

That night, Kate and Sawyer sat watching TV together, a bowl of popcorn between them. They were still waiting for the food they had ordered an hour ago to arrive. Aaron had been put to bed already, after spending the remainder of day watching cartoons with Sawyer. Kate decided it would distract him from scratching – it didn't. But now that he was asleep, they had the rest of the night to themselves.

They were watching a movie that neither of them had really wanted to watch, but there was nothing else appealing so Sawyer kept it on.

"Bet that guy's gonna die," he commented, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"Do you have to give a commentary every time we watch a movie?" she rolled her eyes, reaching back to scratch her back.

"Oh come on," he said, watching her scratch. She was wearing one of his shirts again, he noticed. "You don't wanna watch this movie just as much as I don't."

She laughed. "Well, I'm trying to watch it."

"Oh yeah? Then what's that guy's name right there?" he pointed to the screen.

She quieted, and stared at the man. She honestly didn't know the guy's name. She knew she wouldn't win this fight, but she wasn't going to sit back and forfeit.

"Kyle."

"Wrong, his name's Adam. And that girl right there – that's Christine."

She stared at him, amazed and pityingly.

"Do I even want to know why you know that?"

"Well, if you'd been following, you'd know," he said, accusingly.

She smirked then picked one of the pieces of popcorn from her hand and tossed it at him. It hit his arm and fell into his lap. He stared at her in awe.

"You just throw popcorn at me?"

In response, she popped two pieces in her mouth. He nodded and looked back at the TV.

"You're gonna pay for that," he said.

"Oh yeah?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah."

She stared at him, skeptically, but he only grinned. She reached back and scratched her back again.

"What's goin' on back there?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

She grinned. "I have an itch."

"You catchin' them Chicken Pox?"

Her expression immediately changed. "I don't know."

She turned around and lifted her shirt up to let him examine her back. He sat up and positioned himself behind her to take a look.

"Damn…"

"Is it bad?" she asked, worriedly.

"Nah, you just have a really cute back," he grinned, grabbing her bare sides to pull her against him.

She jabbed her elbow backwards, causing him to let go, and pulled her shirt down again.

"Hell, woman. If you wanted to play rough, you coulda said so," he said, turning back around.

"Were there any red bumps or not?"

"No. Just looked kinda pink. Probably 'cause you keep scratchin' it."

"Just like you're scratching your stomach right now?" she grinned, eyeing his stomach.

He looked down and stopped his hand. "I ain't got nothin' on my stomach."

"Are you sure?" she said softly, tucking her knees under her as if she was sitting up to get a better look.

"Oh, you wanna see? Fine."

He lifted his shirt revealing only his tanned, but pink from scratching, stomach. She glanced up at him slyly, and then climbed over into his lap.

"Now you got something on your stomach," she beamed.

"I sure do," he said, sliding his hands underneath her shirt and up her sides.

She leaned down and, resting her hands against his chest, kissed him tenderly. His hands slid down again, gripping her waist and the kiss became fiercer. A loud series of knocks on the door interrupted them.

"I'll get it," she said, still panting.

Then, she held his gaze and slid her hand into his jeans to get the money. He laughed while she climbed over him and off of the couch to answer the door. Sawyer watched as she took the food and paid the all too observant delivery guy. She shut the door and sat down next to him once more, placing the food on the table before them.

"You know that guy was checkin' you out like there's no tomorrow," he informed her.

She smiled, uncertainly as she opened the bag. "Maybe he just liked the shirt."

He snorted. "Not the way he was lookin' you up and down."

"If it bothers you that much, why don't you go after him and beat him up?"

"Puh-leeze. I could care less."

She glanced sideways at him. "James…"

"Kate…" he challenged.

"Stop scratching your stomach!" she changed the subject.

He stared at her. "Sorry that I got an itch!"

She sighed and moved his arms away, then lifted the shirt up. She lowered her head so she could do a closer inspection. He smirked.

"Try a little lower," he teased.

"Pervert," she thwacked his stomach with the back of her hand, getting up and back to her seat.

"Ow."

He watched her curiously and she and her container of food shifted further from him onto the arm of the couch.

"Oh come on. You ain't really gonna sit all the way over there, are you?"

"Yeah I am. You can keep your Chicken Pox to yourself."

"Chicken Pox?" he looked at her wild with worry.

"Yeah."

He stared at her for a moment. "Bull puckey."

She laughed. "Look for yourself."

He sighed and pulled off his shirt to look, but saw nothing. When she saw this, she put her food down on the table and sat close to him again.

"There," she poked his abdomen. "And there. And there's one there too."

He stared down at the three dots. By tomorrow, probably, several more would form. That damn kid…

"Son of a bitch!"

She retrieved her food and backed up onto the arm of the couch once more.

"Looks like I'll have to draw another oatmeal bath," she joked.

"Yeah right," he said, and scratching yet again.

"Stop scratching."

"It itches!"

She shook her head and went back to her food. However, a few minutes later, when she glanced his way, she noticed him starting to scratch more.

"Stop!" she urged.

"Make me."

Kate tried to grab a hold of his hands but instead, he had gotten a hold of hers. She tried to wrestle free, but, as usual, was unsuccessful. Finally, she maneuvered herself around so she was sitting in his lap, her back against his stomach and he had let go of her hands.

"There," she said, triumphantly.

He started to lift her shirt up.

"Sawyer!" she turned around sharply.

"Oh you callin' me Sawyer again?" he smirked. "What happened to James?"

She turned back around, her still bare back now against his bare stomach. Suddenly, she almost felt aroused. She knew she shouldn't, but how could anyone control hormones as strong as hers?

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

"What?" she glanced at him over her shoulder.

"You might have to make that oatmeal bath for two."

"What're you talking about?" she said, suddenly panicked.

"You got a few spots here too."

She rolled her eyes. "Freckles."

He had to pause and take in the moment. He'd never heard her utter the word "freckles" until then. It sounded that much more exotic on her lips rather than his. Somehow, he would have to get her to say it more often. Then he remembered their current conversation.

"These ain't freckles."

Defiantly, she got up and went into the downstairs bathroom. He heard her groan from the other room, and smiled to himself, satisfactorily. She came back and sat beside him, frowning. He leaned back, folding his hand behind his head.

"So how's about that bath?"