Title: Makeshift
Author:
Girl Who Writes
Feedback: is beloved, much like cupcakes,.
Pairing:
implied Sawyer/Claire
Rating:
PG
Genre:
Fluff
Summary:
He surprises himself when the little voice in his mind pipes up and tells him he did this for the sad-eyed girl who was so afraid of Charlie, rather than just to get in her pants. Sawyer and Claire
Notes: Written for lostfichallenge at Prompt: Kiss
Spoilers:
Seasons 1 and 2
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer:
Lost and all recognizable characters belong to A.B.C. and J.J Abrams. I make no profits from these or any of my other Lost fan fics.


Sawyer knows he's all wrong for the pretty blonde Australian. He knows that she has every right to laugh in his face and leave him for the rock star, who gazes at her like she's some sort of goddess. Hell, the rock star may be a junkie, but he knows what Claire's worth.

But she turns away from Charlie, when the drugs are exposed and he clamors obsessively for baby Aaron. Sayid nurses a broken heart over Shannon and is no help for the baby-mama who hides from the obsessive junkie.

When Charlie kidnaps Aaron one night, Sawyer hears Claire's screams and knows what he has to do. He goes to her shelter, a cigarette in one hand. "Pack your things, Blondie," he drawls.

She looks up, her long blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, her bright blue eyes focusing on him, Aaron sleeping in her arms. "What?" Her soft accent is nothing sort of charming to him, even though he'd never admit to knowing the word 'charming'.

"Can't leave you out here for the monsters, the French and the rock stars to get, Blondie," Sawyer takes another drag of the cigarette. "Come on, I haven't got all day." Nothing but time to convince the girl she'll be safe with him.

She bites her lip and nods. "Can you take him for a minute?" She holds up the baby, who blinks at Sawyer. "I'll pack our stuff."

He holds Aaron tentatively, as Claire folds their clothes into her bag. A grubby teddy bear is added, and Claire stumbles from the old shelter, carrying the crib Locke made for Aaron. "Ready." Sawyer quickly switches Aaron for the bags and crib.

Several people look up as Sawyer carries Claire's things down the beach, to his shelter. Claire keeps her head down as Charlie catches sight of them, her guilt palpable in the air. This is not betrayal, it is security.

Nights are spent listening to Aaron cry, and Sawyer bites his cheek to stop cussing out the infant and the mother, and he reminds himself why he's done this. He surprises himself when the little voice in his mind pipes up and tells him he did this for the sad-eyed girl who was so afraid of Charlie, rather than just to get in her pants.

Their odd little domestic arrangement causes a mild ripple around the island, but they are merely a blip on the radar. Claire washes his clothes along with hers and Aaron's, and trims his long hair when it begins to annoy him. He fetches her water and fruit, checks Aaron when he wakes up crying at night, and reads to the baby from a washed up Winnie the Pooh book.

Sawyer's patient, because he has nothing but time; rescue is not on the horizon and no one interrupts their makeshift family. Some nights, when Claire is up in the caves, Sawyer lights one of his contraband cigarettes and wonders if they are rescued tomorrow, what will happen. Will she head off with Aaron – Roo – in her arms, with nothing but a parting smile and an Christmas card? Or will she let him stay with them, and point him in some sort of direction for his life? He waxes nostalgia when he smokes now, because Claire forbids him to smoke around the baby. And Sawyer surprised himself by not arguing… and agreeing.

Claire wakes up one morning, leaving both him and Aaron sleeping peacefully. She disappears to the caves with a bundle of dirty clothes, and Sawyer is left to entertain the kid, who wriggles in his arms and won't stop his baby chatter until Sawyer pulls out a beat up book and begins to read.

She reappears, all blonde hair and bright smiles when the sun beats down on the beach, and Aaron is gurgling to himself. Claire hangs up the wet washing and dumps the dry in the shelter, ready for folding. She crawls in next to Sawyer and Aaron, with fruit and water for breakfast.

"How are my boys?" she says, kissing both of Aaron's beautiful, chubby baby cheeks, and then kissing Sawyer's. She doesn't wait for an answer, but goes to straighten up the makeshift beds, and fold the clothes.

Sawyer brushes where she kissed him on the cheek with the back of his hand and Aaron coos at him, staring up at him with eyes like his Mama's.

And suddenly, the family isn't quite so makeshift.