It's a fleeting thought, just an idea or an image or whatever you want to call it. It runs through his mind every so often, when he's sitting on the beach, watching the waves lap over themselves or when he's laying on the hard ground at the caves, listening to the trees rustle against each other. He'll hear the voice, thick with the accent, and feel the longing he's never felt before. After at least several minutes of retrospect, Sawyer realizes that he's never wanted to kiss anybody before. Have sex with, yes, to have his spasm and hear compliments about, but he's never wanted to just stand still with somebody and feel their lips and tongue and breath mingling with his own. Maybe it's just loneliness or admiration or knowing that it will never happen. Or maybe it's the dark skin and hair and eyes, so unlike his own, the constant strain showing on the face and the weariness in the eyes that brings out Sawyer's (admittedly small) comforting side. He wants to help. He wants to ease.
But the strangest thing about it is that it's whenever Sayid says "Allah" under his breath that Sawyer wants to kiss him the most.
The ever-annoying AN: I took about fifteen minutes out of NaNoWriMo insanity to spit this plot bunny out. I think this is a truly hysterical pairing, despite its virtual impossibility, mainly due to Sayid shoving pokey things up Sawyer's fingernails. Man, that hurt to watch. (Although Sawyer didn't seem to mind as much as he should have. Hmm.) Anyway. It's one-shot vignette. And uh... stuff. The title is from an e.e. cummings poem. I suggest you read it.