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ozmissageTitle: i can't explain why it's a sin, the state i'm living in
Pairing: Jack/Claire
Rating: PG-13
Words: 389
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title from “My Heart is an Apple” by Arcade Fire.
Summary: As soon as the journalists stop calling, Jack pulls out a map and tells Claire to pick a place. AU.
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
crickets who requested Jack/Claire, “who cares what they say about houses made of cards” at the Sweet Drabblethon.
It doesn’t take long for the Oceanic Seven story to become a novelty item swallowed up by other headlines. Soon Jack and Claire are just footnotes to another strange story, forgotten and left to return to something the media would quaintly call “normal.”
As soon as the journalists stop calling, Jack pulls out a map and tells Claire to pick a place. She closes her eyes but not before making sure her finger is aimed at an island. By the end of the week they’re gone.
They rent an apartment near the ocean in a country with a name Claire can barely pronounce. She panics silently as they unpack the handful of belongings they bothered to bring. It’s not until the first night when she hears the waves crashing in the distance as she falls asleep sprawled across Jack’s chest that she realizes they made the right choice. It’s not normal, but it’s close.
No one knows them in this place and if they ignore the phone calls from Carole and Margo and Marc, they can pretend no one knows them anywhere. The freedom is intoxicating.
They spend an afternoon weaving through open air markets buying fruit and examining knick knacks they have no intention of buying. Aaron toddles along between them and Claire smiles down at him proudly; she always wanted him to take his first steps in the sand. People coo at Aaron as they pass, complimenting their beautiful family in broken English; Jack never corrects them, never says Aaron isn’t his.
Claire pauses in front of a stall selling prints of the island and stands on tip toe to press a cautious kiss against Jack’s lips.
“We shouldn’t…” he says out of habit, but he kisses her back anyway.
“We’re just another couple here, Jack, silly American tourists on vacation.”
Jack laughs softly and Claire relishes the fact that she’s standing close enough to feel the sound reverberate through his chest.
“You’re not American.”
“They don’t know that,” Claire says. “They don’t know anything about us.”
Claire bends down to scoop Aaron up and he burrows his face against his shoulder as she takes Jack’s hand without hesitation.
“Let’s head home,” she says.
Jack stares down at their entwined hands for a moment before flashing Claire a grin without so much as a trace of guilt.
“Lead the way.”
Pairing: Jack/Claire
Rating: PG-13
Words: 389
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title from “My Heart is an Apple” by Arcade Fire.
Summary: As soon as the journalists stop calling, Jack pulls out a map and tells Claire to pick a place. AU.
A/N: Written for
crickets who requested Jack/Claire, “who cares what they say about houses made of cards” at the Sweet Drabblethon.It doesn’t take long for the Oceanic Seven story to become a novelty item swallowed up by other headlines. Soon Jack and Claire are just footnotes to another strange story, forgotten and left to return to something the media would quaintly call “normal.”
As soon as the journalists stop calling, Jack pulls out a map and tells Claire to pick a place. She closes her eyes but not before making sure her finger is aimed at an island. By the end of the week they’re gone.
They rent an apartment near the ocean in a country with a name Claire can barely pronounce. She panics silently as they unpack the handful of belongings they bothered to bring. It’s not until the first night when she hears the waves crashing in the distance as she falls asleep sprawled across Jack’s chest that she realizes they made the right choice. It’s not normal, but it’s close.
No one knows them in this place and if they ignore the phone calls from Carole and Margo and Marc, they can pretend no one knows them anywhere. The freedom is intoxicating.
They spend an afternoon weaving through open air markets buying fruit and examining knick knacks they have no intention of buying. Aaron toddles along between them and Claire smiles down at him proudly; she always wanted him to take his first steps in the sand. People coo at Aaron as they pass, complimenting their beautiful family in broken English; Jack never corrects them, never says Aaron isn’t his.
Claire pauses in front of a stall selling prints of the island and stands on tip toe to press a cautious kiss against Jack’s lips.
“We shouldn’t…” he says out of habit, but he kisses her back anyway.
“We’re just another couple here, Jack, silly American tourists on vacation.”
Jack laughs softly and Claire relishes the fact that she’s standing close enough to feel the sound reverberate through his chest.
“You’re not American.”
“They don’t know that,” Claire says. “They don’t know anything about us.”
Claire bends down to scoop Aaron up and he burrows his face against his shoulder as she takes Jack’s hand without hesitation.
“Let’s head home,” she says.
Jack stares down at their entwined hands for a moment before flashing Claire a grin without so much as a trace of guilt.
“Lead the way.”
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no subject
Date: 10/16/10 04:58 am (UTC)Thank you so much for this. I love this whole set-up, the Oceanic seven. I haven't ever seen that before but I love it!
And that image of them at the end in the market. Perfection.
no subject
Date: 10/16/10 03:21 pm (UTC)