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07 July 2009 @ 04:03 pm
fic, Lost: I Never Kissed A Man (Kevin/Sawyer), PG13, for gottalovev  
Title: I Never Kissed A Man
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairing: Kevin/Sawyer
Words: 1786
Summary: four times Kevin and Sawyer somehow meet, and one when they definitely go further than that.
Spoilers: er, vary vague for the season finale, but definitely spoilers.
Disclaimer: nope, Lost isn't mine. NEWS!
A/N: for the lovely Queen gottalovev at lostsquee who asked for first times. Er. Well. This has at least three first times in it. And it features my Oceanic Six Talk Shows of doom. And it's the first time I try the pairing so er, whatever, I really hope you like it! ♥ using for au_abc, detectives.


When Kevin Callis meets James Sawyer Ford for the first time, it lasts barely more than a minute.

It happens sometime in ’99, when Kevin works at the Federal Correctional Institution in Tahallassee. He’s in the security service and really, his only duty is escorting inmates arriving from outside from the van into the prison; the job is easy, his responsibility lasts the two minutes it takes going from point A (the van) to point B (the gate). Kevin works there for about six months and, of all the inmates he escorted, he remembers only one face. Not because the guy had been basically attached to his hip for one-hundredy and twenty seconds, every inmate he escorted was basically attached to his hip for that length of time. He can’t really say precisely why. But he remembers piercing blue eyes meeting his for a couple of seconds, a smirk directed at him (and a busted lower lip), long-ish blond hair, a seein’ you, officer, murmured softly before Kevin handed the guy to his colleague at the main gate. He doesn’t ask the name and gets transfered to a regular station two months later.

He doesn’t know it isn’t the last he sees of him.


The second time Kevin sees James Sawyer Ford, is when he learns the name and when he really has to say that the world is indeed a small place.

The headline of his newspaper reads Survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 FOUND!. Kevin’s first reaction, after opening it, is going straight to his bathroom and throw up what he had eaten of his breakfast. He goes back to the kitchen hoping that it was some kind of hallucination, but it isn’t. Monica, or better, Kate Austen, looks at him from a group picture, holding a blond baby in her arms. Then Kevin finds himself staring at an insane number of smaller pictures taking up a whole four pages of the newspaper; all the deceased, along with name and date of birth. He finds it sick, sincerely, and he’s about to just close it and throw it away when his eyes fall on a face, just because it’s a mugshot. Long-ish rumpled hair, smirk, that same stare; it’s in black and white, but Kevin recognizes the guy from Federal Correctional just fine. The name reads James Sawyer Ford. Kevin closes the Miami Herald and throws it in the recycle bin labeled paper.


The third time their paths somehow cross, Kevin is sitting on his sofa in the living room of the house he never could bring himself to move out from; he’s watching a talk show, maybe a month or so after the Oceanic Six were rescued. He’s not even following, but he just feels like he needs to turn his brain off. Which wasn’t this great idea, since they are trying to interview the families of the deceased, and Kevin really, really has a problem with that kind of journalists (he knows what it means to deal with said families, thank you).

There’s a troupe in Albuquerque following this woman, who speeds away from them holding a seven-year old girl’s hand. They ask her about Mr. Ford, if he ever met his daughter, if they were in contact, whether she knows why he was on that plane. Someone in the studio beeps out the woman’s swearing before she picks the girl up, lifts a finger at the camera and speeds away. The host apologizes, Kevin just feels admiration. Well, maybe this Ford hadn’t been smart enough to keep her, but at least he did choose right. He can’t say the same.


“So, was it you?”

Kevin is sitting at the bar near his station when the words are uttered in his ear, the voice soft and the accent familiar. He turns and blinks twice; well, unless ghosts exist and like Jack Daniels, here Mr. James Sawyer Ford is, blond bangs falling over his eyes, smirk way less pronounced than the way he remembered it from... eight years ago or so.

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone would’ve asked who are you first.”

“Even if I hadn’t watched the news three years ago, I’d still know you were in Federal Correctional in Tahallassee some time ago, Mr. Ford. So, what do you mean?”

Sawyer looks genuinely shocked for a second, then shakes his head and takes a sip from the glass.

“Were you married to a Monica who really was a Kate?”

“How do you know? And what’s she...”

“We had a thing. Didn’t work out.”

“Shouldn’t you be dead?”

“Well, they sold you all some lies back then, dunno how many. But most surely I ain’t dead,” he whispers. “Also, I know how to find someone when I want to.”

He stands up and gets out of the bar; Kevin remains still.


Point is, Sawyer might know how to find people, but Kevin is a fucking cop and it’s his job. Which is how he finds himself in front of a door of what he supposes has to be a small-ish apartment in some cheap district; he knows he really shouldn’t do this and that it might be just because of Monica, or Kate, or whatever, but he also knows it isn’t all about that either and then he just knocks.

Sawyer opens the door wearing just jeans and a pair of glasses. Which is definitely not a usual combination, but Kevin has to say it’s kind of alluring. And then he kicks himself mentally because seriously, what was that?


“Me. I’m a cop, finding people is my job.”

“Yeah, figures that Freckles would’ve found herself a cop of everyone.”

“Well, you aren’t and it looks like it didn’t work for either of us.”

“Point taken. Any particular reason you’re here?”

“How did you know about me?”

“Oh. That. Well, me ‘n her, we played I never once. She mentioned a marriage. I was curious.”

“’Course. And what are you exactly doing in Florida? One would think you wouldn’t like it much.”

“I don’t. It’s...” Sawyer stops and looks at him in the eye for a couple of seconds. Kevin holds the stare.

“Fuck, just get in.”

Kevin does even if he should know better and Sawyer shrugs as he takes a beer out of a fridge in the small kitchen on Kevin’s right.

“See, I said we had a thing, but they left. They came back alone, right? So, me ‘n some others ended up stayin’ and there was...”

“Another person?”

“Let’s say that. Anyway. She’s in Miami now. ‘Twould be too crazy to explain to you, but she doesn’t remember and... it’s better that way. It wasn’t true anyway. I figured I’d see her, say hello and stuff, but not really. Came to terms with it. It’s better like this anyway.”

It doesn’t sound like it is, but at least it doesn’t sound like Sawyer’s going to kill himself anytime soon, so Kevin lets it slip. “Right. I won’t ask.”

“Want a beer? And I wouldn’t answer anyway.”

Kevin nods and Sawyer hands him a bottle. “So, you done playin’ detective for now?”

Kevin knows he should say yes, drink his beer and get the hell out of here. Point is, he doesn’t exactly feel any urge to. And God knows he should know better and should just not be speaking with anyone who had a thing with Monica, but after all it looks like Sawyer is just as screwed as him. In that department, anyway.

“Wait a sec,” Sawyer says before he drinks. “I have a better idea. It might also be fun to remember old times. On second thought, drink that. Just be ready.”


That’s how they end with a whiskey bottle passed between them and Sawyer blathering about never having wore fuchsia (which isn’t pink anyway), and Kevin seriously feels like an idiot and he just should go but he’s pleasurably drunk and he doesn’t feel like doing anything remotely sane.

“I’ve never been married,” Sawyer slurts, and Kevin glares at him and takes a drink.

“I’ve never had children,” Kevin snaps in return, and watches with some satisfaction as Sawyer drinks.

“How did you know?”

“Talk show journalists interviewing the family of the deceased.”

“I hope as fuck that Cass didn’t...”

“Cass is the mother of your girl? She... er, let’s say cursed some, didn’t behave as a proper lady should and cursed again.”

“That’s her. Fuck. So, officer, I never kissed a man.”

Kevin doesn’t drink. Sawyer doesn’t either. They stare at each other and there’s silence for a second. Kevin should have known better than speaking first.

”Woah. You looked like someone who’d try it.”

“Well, hoss, didn’t get anyone who seemed good enough to molest. And it really wasn’t worth it, when I was in the mood for experimenting anyway.”

“Very funny.”

“And what ‘bout you, nothing happened in the locker room?”

Kevin rolls his eyes and takes his head in his hands. “I can’t believe you just said that. I was married, by the way.”

Sawyer doesn’t push and Kevin takes a drink just for the heck of it. And then, well, fuck, he has to be really drunk. More than he had thought, that for sure.

“Y’know what?”


“If you really don’t want to die without trying...”

“You ain’t serious.”

“Yes. And I’m drunk too, but..”

Sawyer looks at him raising an eyebrow, but then just honestly-to-God-smirks and he has moved those few inches separing them on his in-need-of-replacing-sofa and hi, well, first time Kevin ever kisses a man and definitely not something he’d ever planned on doing but oh, he thinks, and then his brain shuts down as Sawyer’s tongue meets his and Sawyer’s mouth is all heat, cigarettes and JD and it tastes delicious, or Kevin would say so anyway. He moans without much dignity and brings an arm around Sawyer’s shoulder; they end up half-tangled with the cover of the sofa but Kevin can’t bring himself to give a damn, not when there’s tongue tracing his lips and then teeth lightly biting there, just a tease and nothing more than that really but enough to make shivers run along Kevin’s spine. When they part Kevin’s head spins and he can only see blue eyes if he looks up above and something tells him he isn’t getting up from here anytime soon.

“... that was quite the first time.”

“... have to agree with you. Though I’d have never thought it’d happen with a freaking cop.”

“Do I have to feel offended?”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Sawyer mouths before kissing him again, and Kevin doesn’t really have it in himself to comply.

feeling: cheerfulcheerful
on rotation: Sonny Landreth - Slide Guitar Blues | Powered by Last.fm
siluria: Lost_Sawyer cheerssiluria on July 7th, 2009 09:14 pm (UTC)
You win!!!!! Awesome Lost connections there, and that last scene with I Never was pretty much perfect :)
the female ghost of tom joad: lost sawyer *g*janie_tangerine on July 8th, 2009 08:23 am (UTC)
Heee, thank you! ♥ I have fun with the connections. And I Never is always the best way to get people down to it, you know... *cough*