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06 August 2008 @ 06:26 pm
fic, Lost: What a Dream I Had (Jack/Boone), NC17 for haldoor and un_love_you  
Woah. I'm half caught up but then I needed to get at least this one out. Tomorrow I'm soo getting on the wingfic.

Title: What a Dream I Had
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Boone
Rating: Nc17 of sorts
Disclaimer: if Lost was mine this would have happened without the accident, so this is obviously not mine.
Word count: 3500
Summary: Then he survived the accident with a slight limp and a couple of ugly scars in places that could not be seen if he wore clothes and everything changed.
Spoilers: General season 1 until Do No Harm from which it goes completely AU.
A/N: for Queen haldoor at lostsquee, with much lateness. She wanted PWP, music, AU and said Jack/Boone would have been acceptable. Considering that I ended up writing my delusional, AU and improbable shipper dream, I hope I haven't overdosed the sugar. Also, I know that it's realistically impossible for Boone to get out of the accident with two scars and nothing else, but hey. I've written the plausible alternative once already. The song I used at one point is here, by the way. Using for un_love_you #9, Always wondered what this'd be like. Even if the song in the fic it's Neil Young's, I stole the title from a Simon and Garfunkel one.

Truth is, this is new for the both of them; and truth is that Boone, while he was terrified to turn on the serious side of the matter when back from the island, doesn’t have a doubt. This is the best time of his life, period.

On the island, it had been a fling or maybe a little more than that in the beginning; it had started sometime after the inhalers mess and it had been nothing more than a quick kiss and a couple of handjobs in the jungle while Jack couldn’t sleep and Boone didn’t want to think about his own pressing matters.

Then he survived the accident with a slight limp and a couple of ugly scars in places that could not be seen if he wore clothes and everything changed.


He can’t exactly tell why or how or when; it’s not like he remembers that frame of time much, to be honest.

He knows only that at one certain point Jack’s hand touched him not only to hold him up against some tree or or getting him off without too much care altogether; it was barely holding his, or passing him a cup of water, or maybe massaging his shoulders when his back hurt like a bitch (and it hurt like a bitch most times, especially when the morphine was over). When he was up again, Jack’s lips didn’t only brush his slightly before he left, but lingered over Boone’s before a full, deep kiss followed more often than not. Jack’s hands seemed to have developed a certain fondness for roaming over his skin, even on the scarred part of his chest and of his right leg. Boone couldn’t help noticing that after the accident, Jack had started touching him like he was made of thin glass; while it had felt a bit uncomfortable at first, it had started to grow on him and what was something good to take his mind of Shannon and hatches became something else.

It wasn’t that Boone had started this thing with Jack just out of desperation; he wasn’t the kind and he surely wouldn’t have been up to it if he hadn’t liked Jack before on some level.

But after the accident he had started noticing just how strong Jack’s arms were, how good the touch of his hands felt, how deep and warm his eyes were, how the black circles under his eyes receded a couple of weeks after Boone packed his things and moved into Jack’s cave.

When he had realized that the fling wasn’t a fling anymore for the both of them, he found himself thinking that maybe that accident had been the best thing that could have happened to him.

Rescue came after eight months or so, guided by the girlfriend of the Scottish half crazed guy in the hatch; he hadn’t really held any high hopes for when they got back. That was what he repeated over and over in his head to justify the way his heart’s rate sped up irrationally when Jack had asked him if he wanted whatever was between them to keep going even after they arrived home. Jack wasn’t even looking at him, more at some place on the left side of his left shoe, while he nervously fidgeted with a paper napkin in his hand on the plane they were on during the return trip to L.A.

He had said yes without thinking much about it. After all, he had planned on leaving the wedding company as soon as his feet touched the Californian soil and Shannon was seemingly alright with Sayid, with thankfully no need to worry about her problems anymore.

Thing is, while he had his number of same sex experiences, he had never done the serious deal before. Not even with a woman.


They’re two completely different people and there’s no question about it.

Jack sometimes makes him feel inadequate, though it’s not on purpose really. But Boone usually shrugs it away, if anything because Jack has a way of making everyone feel like that when doing comparisons. Boone knows him well enough to know that he really doesn’t think that he’s better than anyone else; he was just brought up in order to make everyone else feel inadequate and he doesn’t know another way. So after one month Boone forces himself to stop comparisons.

Thing is, he can’t avoid thinking about it sometimes.

He has a degree in sociology that didn’t help him getting a job he liked, one year doing one he hated, a good number of marches during his college days, a completely insane relationship with his half sister and more useless flings than he likes in retrospective. Jack has his highly professional job where he’s one of the best in his field, one important relationship that became a marriage gone wrong (that haunts him even now someway), trips in places Boone has never been and an ability to get everything he does right that Boone (sadly) lacks.

Especially at the beginning, he couldn’t help thinking that it was just a mistake and a complete mismatch under half of the points; then he found a job at the local Amnesty International office, they went to dinner out to celebrate and it was one of the best evenings of his life. The dinner and everything that came after. So he just stopped making comparisons; sure, if it wasn’t for the island they wouldn’t ever had a chance in a million to meet and let alone get together, but what good in thinking about it?

He just shrugs it away, as he shrugs away the age difference, Jack’s lack of knowledge of (or interest in) any music written after Debussy’s death along with his terrible taste in books and his lack of ability in the kitchen. After all, being a wedding planner for a year helps you learning a couple of useful things, when it’s time to deal with a shared apartment and the other occupant can’t cook for his life.


The flat is a two-room near Jack’s hospital; they both could afford much better than that, but Boone, who didn’t really feel the need for a fancy house or anything close to the one he had lived until before the crash, had been relieved when he had found out that Jack shared his opinion. It’s small but comfortable, just a living room and a bedroom; Shannon has been there a couple of times and on the both of them remarked that the furniture was too sparse and that there wasn’t anything apart from a couple of movie posters in the living room. But that was exactly the point; they had gone for no frills and Boone prefers it like this, really. Sometimes he figures that after eight months on the island they just learned to live with the necessary.


Jack doesn’t go out in the evenings much; Boone doesn’t either, even if he does go out. He has friends at work, sometimes Shannon passes by and thankfully doesn’t get in details about what she and Sayid are doing apart from the basic informations. When she does, she always wants to go out; Boone would ask her why she doesn’t even want to get into the house or to sleep on his couch instead of the hotel she always books, but he figures it’s a lost cause and it’s the best he has gotten along with her since years. So he doesn’t say a thing, usually. And it’s not like Jack doesn’t ever go out; the weekly drink at the bar in front of the hospital with colleagues isn’t exactly what Boone would call the ideal evening but well, if Jack likes that, fine. He had gone once, too, and they talked about surgeries and work all the time, which had meant losing the thread of the conversation after five minutes. Boone sometimes tries to think about how can someone find fun to talk about work stuff just ten minutes after your shift is over but he figures it’s beyond him and lets it be after a while. If doctors have masochistic ways of living, fine. He can put up with masochism, it’s not like he hasn’t tried it for himself. Even if his masochism days are so over.


At one point, Boone had bough a good record player, one for cds, lps and tapes; maybe Jack could do with the portable one they had provisionally on the living room table but he couldn’t and so had gone for the real deal.

He still remembers the christening.

He had brought all of his records from his apartment in Malibu and was just aching to be able to listen to his long playing ones again; when he had chosen Neil Young’s Harvest to be the first Jack had just shrugged and said it was fine, it wasn’t like he was a fan or anything. Boone had just shaken his head and put the record on. Shannon always used to make fun of him because he doesn’t like any new group past the half of the eighties; Jack just avoids the topic altogether.

The first three songs had passed in relative calm; after all, they were having dinner while Boone had put the record on.

The idea had come when the first notes of Heart of Gold played from the speakers and well, there was no question about whether following with it or leaving it alone.

He had stood up and went on the other side of the table, extending his hand. Jack had just shaken his head.

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t dance.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you can.”

“Not the point. And no one would see your poor attempt at it anyway, if you tried.”

Then he had grabbed Jack’s hand pulling him up without waiting for an answer, just as soon as the singing started.

I want to live, I want to give, I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold, it’s these expressions I never give, that keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old.

If there’s something Boone likes about the beat of that song is that it’s not too slow neither too fast. Just the ideal rythm, he remembers thinking while Jack’s right arm was awkwardly around his waist and his other one around his shoulders and they moved without any gracefulness whatsoever.

Keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old.

His fingers had gone straight to Jack’s neck while his cheek rested over his shoulder; right, sooner or later his feet were going to protest for being stomped more times than not, but he sincerely hadn’t been caring. Not really.

I’ve been to Hollywood, I’ve been to Redwood, I’ve crossed the ocean for a heart of gold, I’ve been in my mind, it’s such a fine line, that keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old, keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old.

He remembers that outside there was a nice weather, chilly but not cold, that Jack’s skin under his white shirt was warm and soft when his fingers had brushed it for a second, the way Jack’s lips lingered behind his ear, along with the beat of the song getting completely under his skin. He remembers fondly even the pain his feet were in and the obvious fact that Jack didn’t have an idea about how he should have moved, especially as soon as the harmonica kicked in and the rythm slightly changed throwing him off completely. They had kissed then, moving just a bit, the bare necessary.

Keep me searching for a heart of gold, you keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old, keeps me searching for a heart of gold, I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold.

It had been slow, no rush, just lips barely touching at first and then Jack’s tongue was touching his and it was such a good taste, one that Boone always thinks he couldn’t ever get tired of. His hands were on Jack’s face by that point, while Jack kept his around his waist. He couldn’t remember dancing properly with someone since his prom and there he had found an excuse to flee the second half; he had always wondered how it would have felt like to finally do it with some meaning behind it and he had thought that he had found the answer.

And that he quite liked it.


Sex, at first, had been even more awkward than dancing could have ever been. If only because according to Jack his first and last same sex experience had been in med school and it wasn’t really anything worth describing as experience whatsoever. It wasn’t often that Boone had the upper hand in anything, but to be honest, sex had always been the only thing he never even desired to have it in. If only because having the upper hand doesn’t mean you can’t screw up and screwing up, with Boone, went on par with his lack of getting any upper hand in any situation.

On the island it hadn’t really been an issue; if anything at least because everyone at the end of the day was too tired to do anything at all and during the day there just wasn’t enough privacy or time. Right, if you didn’t care about the privacy half of the problems disappeared (see Sawyer and Sayid for example, since they were so cautious that Boone walked in on them one afternoon after taking two steps from the beach into the jungle. In order to see what was that noise he could hear from his tent, not for anything else), but thing was that they both did. So, even after the shift in their relationship, they didn’t get that far from the occasional handjob (also because of the accident anyway); the farthest they went consisted in Boone giving Jack head four months after the fall and just because standing on his knees hadn’t been an option until then.

Back in civilization, things had to change. And they did change, even if Boone thinks that before the bed was properly christened it had taken at least three attempts. He forgot why they failed altogether though.

He forgot because now he can’t find the words to describe how good it feels to him.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he never had somewhere that comes close; all of his girlfriends were there as a fill in for Shannon and he could never enjoy sex with them. All of the men he had been with were people he met while he was in New York and his longest relationship lasted two weeks or maybe three and when he had sex with Shannon it had been the biggest mistake of his life. And for how much he had savored each second of that night in Sydney, what she had said later had been enough to deprive him of anything good it might have brought.

With Jack, it’s something else altogether.

There isn’t nothing Boone would change about him really. It doesn’t matter that Jack can become as stubborn and bossy in bed as he was on the island and in real life; on the contrary, Boone thinks he rather likes it. Especially because at one point it had meant leaving the upper hand to Jack and he had been more than happy to do so.

Jack’s arms are something he can never get tired of; they’re so strong and long and firm and he thinks he could spend days just touching them. Not to mention the tattoos; he has another bad thing for those. He never asked what they meant; after all, he’s perfectly content with tracing them lightly with his tongue whenever he can and considering the entity of the shivers the act sends through Jack’s body, it’s a worthy task to accomplish.

The hands, oh, the hands, he thinks he could write a thesis about how good they feel on his skin, about how much he loves the strength of their grip on his wrists or on his back or anywhere Jack touches him. It might be because doctors have to have skilled hands and his own personal doctor has some of the best hands anyone could be in, both in his professional life and in his private one; doesn’t change the heart of the matter. Even on the island, the first time Jack got him off, he thought he was going to come as soon as Jack’s fingers had touched his erection. He doesn’t really know how did he manage to last more than a couple of strokes. Not to talk about the scars. He usually can’t help wincing any time he has to see them and feeling a faint pain when he has to touch them, but if Jack touches them he has a complete opposite reaction. The same one he has when Jack touches him in any other place and it’s some of the greatest relief that can be brought to him.

But then again, it’s more a question of Jack altogether; there isn’t a part of his body Boone wouldn’t be eager to touch for hours, or kiss for hours, or bite for hours; though almost nothing beats the proper kissing. He loves Jack’s mouth, how soft his lips feel whenever he touches them with his (and it contrasts so deliciously with how rough Jack’s stubble feels under his hands when they kiss). He loves it when they part to say anything, hey, he loves the sound of Jack’s voice really; sure, he always flushes even more than he usually does when Jack starts with the appreciation of his lips (and Boone can’t help feeling at least a bit proud of using his mouth well). He can’t avoid becoming a shivering mess whenever Jack’s teeth grasp his skin anywhere and he doesn’t care if he shows marks in the morning. Well, he actually feels a strange warmth spreading through his stomach when he sees one in the mirror.

He loves it whenever he gives Jack head. It’s one of the few ways he has to get him to open that mouth of his and say things he wouldn’t ever hear him saying otherwise, no matter how much he tries to tell Jack that hearing him talking dirty is music for his ears. He always takes his time with it, never rushes it if not at the end, takes Jack in as deep as he manages (and he has to say he can manage very deep), sucks slowly, doesn’t care if Jack’s hands on his shoulder grip too strongly. And it always feels so good when Jack starts to thrust his hips up a bit and then more than a bit; that’s when he usually stops being slow and there’s quite almost nothing like Jack fucking his mouth like it is the last chance he has, really.

Almost because oh, when Jack is inside him, now there’s really nothing that can top that. The first time it hadn’t lasted much and they both were so tense that they got out of it glad that it hadn’t hurt much even if there hadn’t been much pleasure during the act, but now, now it’s a whole other thing. It’s all in the way their bodies fit, about how firm Jack’s back feels under his hands when Boone grips his shoulders, about how fast pain turns into blissful pleasure. Jack would add also the way Boone starts to moan helplessly as soon as he pushes a couple of times (and Boone thinks that he also mentioned the way his eyes glint and are quite visible in the dark), but he’s usually too far gone to care about what he does. After all, Jack cares enough about Boone’s reactions for the two of them.

If there’s something he’s completely and utterly sure of, is that this isn’t comparable with anything else that came first. Especially because this is lasting while everything that came first didn’t.


Jack tells him once that he had never thought it could get as good as this when he blurted that question out on the ship; Boone just smiles and says that he hadn’t thought it either. When he was on the island and sometimes, in the late stages of the fling before the accident, wondered about how it would have felt if he and Jack became serious, he had figured it would have felt amazing. Now that they did become serious, he thinks he has the answer.

It isn’t amazing, not at all. It’s so, so much better.


feeling: accomplishedaccomplished
on rotation: nothing but a child - steve earle
L: Jack Guhneated on August 6th, 2008 06:20 pm (UTC)
Wee, I'm on short time, but I'll so read this later. Jack/Boone ♥♥♥
the female ghost of tom joad: lost team pens!janie_tangerine on August 6th, 2008 06:28 pm (UTC)
Ha, waiting for you then ;) ♥ indeed!
L: Lost flight 815neated on August 7th, 2008 07:42 pm (UTC)
Great. Absolutely great. Boone shruging everything away that could be a problem is so him. And that song. I listened to it this morning. (I squeed a little bit when I read it in the fic). The wholedancing scene was so lovely.

And Jack + doctor hands ♥

Your last sentence killed me once again. Awesome.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost team pens!janie_tangerine on August 7th, 2008 09:36 pm (UTC)
Yay, thanks so much! Glad you liked it, and that the song seemed fit. I actually was listening to that when I was brainstorming for one to find so I just went on with that. Jack's doctor hands.... well, I can't resist those. Oh no.

Thank you so much again, I'm so really happy you liked this one!
a geek in such the wrong way: pol-ianhaldoor on August 6th, 2008 06:26 pm (UTC)
Perfect song! Wonderful explanation of how things could have gone for them - I really like the awkwardness of it; how uncomfortable or unsure Boone feels with a lot of it, but how, magically, it all comes together at the end and it's just so very very good! Even if it's not full-on PWP, it's a lovely character study of Boone and how he sees Jack and I'm really glad you wrote it for me! Thank you so very much, my dear! (and I'm afraid my one for you is a lot more porny and less thinky!!!) ;-)
the female ghost of tom joad: ian somerhalder valentinejanie_tangerine on August 6th, 2008 06:43 pm (UTC)
More porn and less thought? AWESOME! No, really, I'd love to be able to write PWP but I sadly can't. Well, once I was able to but it was my own language, so maybe one day I'll get to it in English. Maybe ;)

Seriously, I'm really glad you liked this one! You know, that was the fulfillment of all my delusional self towards the pairing so it's great to hear it sounded like a good explanation. That song has to be one of my favorites ever. And Boone character studies are so my not-so-guilty pleasure ;) thank you so much, I'm really so glad it pleased you! ♥
kezzamorphosis on August 6th, 2008 07:13 pm (UTC)
My mind is shot to hell.

I read your icon as THE PENIS OF DOOM.

Just sending a hello your way while I'm laughing myself stupid.
the female ghost of tom joad: ILUjanie_tangerine on August 7th, 2008 10:27 pm (UTC)
LOOOOL! Now that'd be a nice twist ;)

hi there yourself! Glad you got a laugh ;)
teamane: Lost1teamane on August 6th, 2008 08:42 pm (UTC)
I'm speachless... UAU!
This is AWSOME! I LOVE it, LOVE it, LOVE IT!
*cuddles Jack and Boone*
Thank you so much for sharing it at jackboone_love.
*hugs you*
the female ghost of tom joad: lost team pens!janie_tangerine on August 7th, 2008 10:28 pm (UTC)
*totally lays back in your enthusiasm and squees* *hugs back*

You're so welcome, thank you so much! It totally means a lot to me when I get such awesome reviews on J/B stories because erm, well, OTPs are OTPs so now you totally made my night ;) thanks so much again! ♥
elliotsmelliot: Booneelliotsmelliot on August 7th, 2008 12:06 pm (UTC)
Aw, this was so sweet. It reminded me a lot of the tone of Bachlava's Jack/Sayid series. Everyone's home, adjusting to life in the real world and adjusting to their new relationships. I liked how Boone had Jack pretty much figured out from day one but still needed to figure himself out.

If there’s something he’s completely and utterly sure of, is that this isn’t comparable with anything else that came first. Especially because this is lasting while everything that came first didn’t.

This line may be about the sex but it is also so fitting about them in general. Thank you for selling me on this pairing. I always look forward to you writing it.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost boone bondagejanie_tangerine on August 7th, 2008 10:31 pm (UTC)
And you totally flatter me because I love those series so much, it's an honor to remind you that ;) I think that my poor man totally needed to figure himself out when he crashed and still hadn't when, you know. I guess that after the realistic option I might just go for the unrealistic one.

Oh, I'm so really glad I sold you on those two! I just can't help loving the pairing as I happen to do. And I'm not planning on stopping to write it anytime soon ;) I'm really so glad you liked it, thank you so much! ♥ ♥
faran1078: crushfaran1078 on August 13th, 2008 01:51 pm (UTC)
Ah, I was guessing as I was reading that English wasn't your own language because of some of the syntax and grammatical errors, but you still did a bang up job. There were a few content errors as well, but the bulk of it was interesting enough for them to be overlooked.

I don't really think that Jack would be a bad dancer. He seems so sure of himself and moves with confidence, while Boone trips over his own feet. Though I *do* think Boone would be a good dancer too. If only because he's so obsessive, compulsive about getting everything right.

Nice character study of both.

And as a bonus, your fic actually allowed me to learn something! My unfamiliarity with the term PWP led me to a web site that not only explained the term, but also some of the background behind slash!fic and the connection between the fact that most of the writers/readers are heterosexual women. Bonus!!

Please keep writing this OTP, obviously there're still loads of Boone/Jack shippers out here who enjoy them.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost team pens!janie_tangerine on August 22nd, 2008 11:51 am (UTC)
Argh, sorry for getting here so late. I hate when I miss stuff catching up *sigh*.

Well, one does what she can ;) seriously, thanks and I really should get a beta more often. And well, I don't know why Jack strikes me as a terrible dancer. Maybe because he doesn't strike me as the one who would care much about music altogether so I don't think he would care for dancing but I do agree that Boone would be an excellent one (and I'd like to try that but well, let's censor that ;) ).

Ha, really? Well, that's good then! And even better that you learned that even if it really wasn't PWP. I mean, it had a sort of plot. Soooort of. And yeah, heterosexual women are the majority, even if I found a few males that read/wrote it. All gay males though ;)

Seriously, thank you! And I'll soo keep on writing it. I've resigned myself to the idea that I'm delusional enough to keep on shipping them so I surely will ;)
Janicejaydblu on October 23rd, 2008 09:33 pm (UTC)
Oh, is this story beautiful. I like the emotion involved in Boone's POV. I like the little glimpses into their post island life, how they both manage to adjust after finding out more about each other and what their differences are. I especially loved the dancing, and the descriptions of the first time they...well, the first time they did everything. Very very, hot. I always enjoy visions of these two together.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost otpjanie_tangerine on October 26th, 2008 09:10 am (UTC)
Oh, thank you so much! For me there isn't quite anything like writing these two together, so I'm really, really glad you liked it and that it worked. And especially that you liked the dancing bit, I was kinda afraid it was OOC but guess it wasn't ;) thank you so much again! ♥