First ever fic!
So, so sorry that this is so late. It was due on Jan 13th!!! My excuse is that I've just moved house and have ONLY just got my internet back - I've had this written for ages. Also, tis the first ever fic I have posted anywhere so please be nice....

Title: 57
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not trying to profit in any way!

57. Jack and Sawyer want to murder each other. Maybe they try, and slash ensues

Pickett held the small glass bottle up against the light, eyeing it suspiciously.
‘You sure this’ll work?’
Jason shrugged. ‘Sure. Unless they’re faggots,’ he said, then sniggered. Pickett looked at him with distaste.
‘What the fuck does that mean?’
Jason’s grin faded at the fierce expression on Pickett’s face. He glanced at Tom, seeking support, but Tom was watching him with a frown.
‘Nothin’,’ he said to Pickett. ‘It’ll work.’
Pickett stared at him until he looked away, then nodded.
‘It better. Come on. Let’s get this over with.’

Jack closed his eyes and let his head fall back slightly, until he felt the cold, damp wall against his scalp. At least they’d let him shower before the surgery. He’d insisted, for hygiene reasons, and it had felt so damned good. He’d stood, face upraised in the spray, trying to let the warm water relax him, untangle the clenched knot in his stomach. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what he would do, what he was going to do to Ben, whether it would work, whether Kate and Sawyer would get away, whether it would all be pointless in the end.
It had been worth it, he told himself now, repeated it silently to try and stop the lump forming in his throat, the tell-tale prickle behind his eyes. Kate had got away. He’d thought both of them were free, but about an hour ago the intercom had crackled into life, and he’d heard Sawyer, heard him yelling indignantly, defiantly. It had only been a snippet, a snatched stutter before the com had fallen silent, but it had crumbled Jack’s quiet elation into a thousand pieces.
He’d got the call from Kate, and so he’d fixed Ben, stitched up his kidney sac, successfully removed the tumour. And now the only flimsy bargaining chip he had was his dire warnings that Ben might suffer complications, that some bacteria might have slipped past the attempted sterility of the operating room, and be filling his kidneys with pus. Better keep the doc alive for a week or two to make sure. He’d thought a week was long enough, that he’d work something out. But now they’d brought Sawyer back, kicking and screaming, and half of the reason he’d given himself up was suddenly, undeniably, torn away from him. His life now, for Kate’s. And only as long as she stayed one step ahead.
He’d refused to believe Juliet when she said his plan wouldn’t work, that they weren’t on his island anymore, but instead another island, a smaller one. Even as a seed of terror was planted in his guts, he’d grinned fakely at her.
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘It’s the truth. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.’
‘You’ll have to do better than that.’
The words echoed in his mind now, because of course she hadn’t been lying, had she? They’d caught up with Sawyer, and the only way he could imagine that happening was if Sawyer ran out of places to run.
He refused to let himself try and figure out why Kate had made the call if they weren’t truly free, because he’d already tried, and it was driving him crazy.
Jack dropped his head forward, rubbing at his temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. He still had his scrubs on, hadn’t even bothered asking for clothes - the look on the faces of the Others, even Tom, had told him it would have been pointless. Ben’s blood was mostly dry now, still damp in places. The seat of his pants was wet through where he sat on the damp floor. He was thirsty, hungry, and tired. And he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do.
The door opened, its juddering creak a violent intrusion into his thoughts, and he flinched, before scrambling to his feet. Pickett stepped through, his stance threatening, his body tense. Jack’s gut clenched as his pulse jittered, throbbing in his throat.
Pickett didn’t speak, he just stopped a few feet inside the door, and tossed one of the sacks at Jack. Jack could see two more Others just outside the corridor.
‘Where’re we going?’ Jack asked loudly, trying to sound confident, feeling anything but.
Pickett clenched his jaw, tilting his chin up slightly, staring at Jack like he was a piece of shit he’d trodden in.
The sack had fallen at Jack’s feet. He made no move to pick it up. ‘You expect me to put that on without-’
‘You’ll see,’ Pickett interrupted. ‘Put it on.’
The last thing Jack saw as he lowered the sack over his head was Pickett grinning. It looked like someone had had to teach him how to do it. His arms had been gripped, and he’d felt the cold sting of a needle before he could react. He’d yelled, struggled, but was held firm, and the cool oblivion he expected never came. He felt his pulse pick up a little, but nothing else immediately. They’d pulled him forward, and after a moment’s indecision with himself, he let them lead him out the room.

He snatched the sack off his head as soon as he heard the door shut behind him; this was a room he had never been in before, he could tell from the acoustics. And he was right; small, dark, lit only by a grill high up in the wall, and it had Sawyer in it. A Sawyer who was pacing, running his hands over the walls, the door they’d just shut behind Jack. Jack stared at him in dumbfoundment for a moment, then shook himself out of it.
‘Hey,’ he said, his voice swallowed by the confines of the room. It was bare, except a low, unfurnished platform that could act as a bed, in the loosest sense of the word.
Sawyer shoved against the door, then glanced at Jack momentarily.
‘Hey yourself, Doc. Make yourself useful and see if you can find any way outta here.’
Jack had stepped forward automatically once he’d got a look at Sawyer’s face; he placed a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, tugging slightly.
‘Let me see your face. Looks pretty bad.’
Sawyer jerked at Jack’s touch, growling as he shrugged him off, an honest-to-goodness growl. Jack frowned.
‘Sawyer-’
‘You don’t wanna be touching me, Doc. They gave me a shot, and ever since I’ve been feeling a little on edge. Not sure what they’re up to, but I don’t really feel like hanging around to find out.’
Jack took a step backwards, partly to give Sawyer a bit more space, partly because Sawyer mentioning a shot had made him aware of how he was reacting to his own injection – his pulse was up, his mind was racing, and he felt a bit like Sawyer looked – like his skin didn’t quite fit. He took a couple of deep breaths, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sawyer glanced at him again.
‘You too, huh? Any idea what it is?’
Jack shook his head, then looked up and around the room.
‘I don’t think there’s any way out of here. Think they would’ve checked for that.’
Sawyer barked out a single laugh, sounding bitter.
‘Oh, right, you being their best buddy an’ all, sort of thing you’d know.’
‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ Jack snapped, and knew he hadn’t meant to. He was tense, every muscle tight, agitation churning in his guts like acid. Sawyer glared at him from under a deeply furrowed brow.
‘Didn’t see you in no cage, hoss. Don’t see you with no black eyes or split lips. Think maybe you got off easy.’ Sawyer’s voice was low, dangerous.
Jack held up his hands, forcing his breathing to be steady, catching Sawyer’s eye and holding it.
‘Stop it. It’s the shot. They gave us drugs. Testosterone probably, plus maybe an amphetamine and some god-knows-what Dharma shit. We need to calm down.’
Sawyer held his stare for a moment, then took two quick steps forward, suddenly invading Jack’s personal space, backing him up against the wall.
‘Think it’s too late for that, jackass,’ Sawyer breathed. Jack shoved him backwards with a snarl, instinctively pushing off from the wall, fists clenched, but just about catching himself. Sawyer grinned at him, fire dancing in his eyes.
‘That’s the spirit, Jack-o,’ he growled.
Jack took a deep breath, followed by another. The room was drawing in around them, the shadows growing thicker.
‘Stop it. Get a fucking grip, okay?’
‘Bad language don’t suit you, Doc,’ Sawyer murmured, a split-second before he lashed out, punching Jack hard in the jaw. Jack grunted, thrown back against the wall and dropping to one knee, his vision clouded by a white flash, pain flaring through his skull. He tasted the metallic tang of blood, his mouth cut on his own teeth. It had been a hard punch, and he was still slightly stunned as Sawyer grabbed a fistful of his scrubs and pulled him to his feet. Sawyer looked at him, at the blood spilling from the corner of Jack’s mouth.
‘Much better,’ he whispered. Jack blinked, hard, and in one snake-fast movement grabbed the arm Sawyer was holding his scrubs with and twisted it behind Sawyer’s back, taking three steps and slamming Sawyer into the opposite wall, face first.
‘Fuck you,’ he snarled, twisting Sawyer’s arm further and feeling a sickening but vicarious thrill as Sawyer grunted in pain.
He never, not in a million years, expected Sawyer to then start laughing.
It was a laugh that came from deep within, and Sawyer shook with it.
‘Something funny?’ Jack barked.
Sawyer’s voice was muffled slightly because his face was pressed against the wall, but it was clear enough.
‘Guess their plan to have us kill each other might’ve worked if we’d been straight,’ he said, and pushed back against Jack, against Jack’s half-hard cock, not to free himself, but to get closer.
Jack tightened his grip on Sawyer’s arm, opening his mouth to reply, but a sudden rush of blood to his cock distracted him slightly. Sawyer felt it, and grunted again, shifting his hips backwards in a clumsy grind.
Jack screwed his eyes shut tight, canting his hips away from Sawyer.
‘Are you out of your mind?’ he hissed, blood roaring in his ears.
‘Will be if you don’t let me turn round,’ Sawyer replied, his gravelly drawl sounding even thicker than usual. Jack loosened his grip slightly, but still held firm. He shook his head, even though Sawyer couldn’t see it.
‘Don’t. You’re with Kate. You’re straight. Get a grip.’
‘Not straight. Bi. And you’re queer, though I don’t reckon you’ve ever really admitted it to yourself. Let me turn around. Christ, I’m so fucking hard. I gotta touch you.’
The words seemed to fall from Sawyer’s mouth easily, naturally, but Jack just couldn’t match them with the Sawyer he knew. But he didn’t have time to think about it, because he’d let his grip on Sawyer slip, and Sawyer shoved away from the wall, turned, and was walking Jack backwards to the other wall, pressing him against it and shoving a knee in between Jack’s legs.
Jack caught his breath as Sawyer pushed up tight against him, his mouth an inch away, his breath smelling surprisingly sweet. Jack’s hands went to Sawyers hips, instinctively seeking out the sharpness of his hipbones. He swallowed dryly, then grinned, gently, despite the dizzying sensation that he was going quite mad.
‘I’ve admitted it. Took me a while, and a marriage, but I did it.’
‘Mostly,’ he added, after a moment’s thought.
He brushed his mouth against Sawyer’s, ignoring the twinge from his cut lip, hearing the other man’s breath catch in his throat. But then he forced himself to look away, to close his eyes and drop his head back against the wall. His cock was a hot, heavy weight, screaming for attention.
‘Sawyer,’ he murmured, before repeating it more firmly. ‘Sawyer, this is crazy. We’ve gotta stop this. They’re just fucking with us.’
Sawyer eyed the column of Jack’s exposed throat, the curve of his collarbone, and leaned in, biting wetly at the junction of neck and shoulder. Jack groaned, and the sound went straight to Sawyer’s cock.
‘You’re saying you’ve never thought about it, Doc?’ Sawyer mumbled as he licked his way up to Jack’s ear, biting gently on his earlobe. Jack slid a hand up into Sawyer’s hair, gripping tightly, pulling Sawyer’s head back slightly.
‘Never said that,’ he whispered, as he leant in and kissed Sawyer, not gently, a hard, intrusive kiss, forcing his mouth wide, his tongue deep, the pain from his own mouth forgotten completely. Sawyer made a noise deep in his throat, a needy growl, and his hands were suddenly, shockingly, on Jack’s skin, pushing up underneath his scrubs and touching him, grabbing at him, warm strong fingers kneading the flesh of his back, tracing his tensed muscles. Jack gasped, the sensation so surprising he flinched bodily, and Sawyer’s lust was momentarily tinged with sadness as he realised it’d been much too long since Jack had been touched like this, intimately. It was surprising, following the force of Jack’s kiss, and it pulled him up short for a moment. He pulled back from Jack, holding his face still, looking into brown eyes turned black by shadows and lust.
‘What?’ Jack whispered, breathless.
A pause of a few more heartbeats, then Sawyer was grinning, murmuring ‘Nothin’,’ and his mouth was on Jack’s again, his tongue duelling wetly with Jack’s again. But now Sawyer knew that what could have just been rough, visceral release was something different, a connection that meant something amongst the rage of hormones they were both enveloped in. And he knew that Jack felt it too, because his touch had grown a little more tender, a little more lingering. They were both panting now, Jack impatiently tugging at Sawyer’s shirt, fumbling with the buttons until Sawyer pushed back and pulled it off over his head as Jack stripped off the top half of his scrubs.
They came together urgently, Sawyer pressing Jack back against the damp wall, making him gasp and push back. ‘There,’ Jack grunted, nodding at the low platform jutting out of the wall, and Sawyer pulled him down onto it, on top of him and into him, until Jack could barely breathe. He shifted back just far enough to unfasten Sawyer’s jeans, to shove them down past his knees. His own scrubs were much easier and then everything condensed into one tight, hot moment as his cock pressed hard against Sawyer’s, as his hand gripped them both and his fingers entwined with Sawyer’s, and they both pushed into the heat of their palms and against the solid, throbbing flesh of each other. Jack lost the rhythm of his breath, gasping into Sawyer’s mouth as Sawyer shoved up against him, a forceful jerk of his hips punctuated by a muffled groan. Later Jack tried to remember how long it had lasted, this suffocating ecstasy, but it was undefinable until Sawyer came, the throbbing twitch of his cock and the first spurt of his cum instantly triggering Jack’s own climax.
Jack dropped his forehead onto Sawyer’s shoulder and lay still, just breathing, as the last surge of his orgasm passed and his cock softened against Sawyer’s. Sawyer surprised him by resting a hand on the back of his neck; not caressing, just resting.
‘When do you think the shots wore off?’ Sawyer murmured.
Jack grinned against the warm skin of Sawyer’s shoulder. In a minute or two they would have to face reality again, and he still had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. But right now, for a few more seconds, he was content. And he didn’t feel quite so alone.