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Heat
It's the heat. It has to be the heat. But it's not just heat...its hot and wet. Humid. That's the word his heat-addled brain is searching for. The sun rises and so does the temperature, which would be the 'heat' part. And then with the heat comes the 'wet', or rather because of the heat. He hasn't stopped sweating since he got here. It rained yesterday but even that wasn't normal cold rain, it was kinda warm like a lukewarm shower on a hot day. Cold enough to cool you down, but not to freeze you. But then the rain is wet too so that means we're back to hot and wet.
Charlie wished he could shut off his brain, or at least think of something other than the heat and the wet. Because the heat and the wet generally lead to thinking of other things that were hot and wet. Not that he knew from personal experience, because even going through withdrawal while stranded on an apparently deserted island, he wasn't stupid enough to make what could be the dumbest - or last - move of his life.
And besides, Charlie liked Claire, sweet, pretty, incredibly pregnant Claire. And Jack liked...well it didn't matter who Jack liked because Charlie liked Claire. Charlie didn't want to think about the heat and the wet, he didn't want to talk about the heat and the wet. He didn't want to be one of those annoying morons that prattle on and on about the sodding weather!!
He also didn't want to think about the heat and the wet in association with Jack. Jack was his friend, he'd saved his life on more than one occasion and it wasn't right to think about your friends like that. Like heat and wet and... no not going there.
Charlie tries not to stare. Tries. Fails, for the most part. But no one has caught him at it...yet. And it's only a matter of time he's sure, only a matter of time before some eagle eye spots what he's trying so hard to hide. Sawyer or maybe Kate, they both watch Jack just as much as he does. Charlie knows because he watches them watching.
And it's not jealousy or anything like that that he feels when he sees Jack talking to Kate, or touching her. He has the right to touch anyone he wants to, to not touch anyone he doesn't.
Much safer to think about Claire, to watch Claire. Sweet, soft Claire. Too bad he was starting to think of her as a sister. And you don't think about the heat and the wet with your sister.
But then maybe it's the heat that's confusing him, making him think these things, want these things. If he could just cool down, stop sweating, stop thinking about sweating with...
Damn it, it should be too hot to even think about sex but Charlie can't help it. Can't help thinking about the heat and the wet. Can't help thinking about Jack. Can't help watching Jack, wanting Jack.
Fuck it he was losing his mind! Again! Christ, a man that's just gone through withdrawal shouldn't have to deal with this shit. A man that's just been plane wrecked on an island shouldn't have to deal with... well it's just not fair
It's not fair, everyone else's inappropriate crushes were at least on members of the opposite gender. But oh no, for whatever reason his melted brain thinks now is the perfect time to reacquaint himself with his bisexual tendencies. Perfect, just bloody perfect!
Charlie took another swig from the water bottle by his side and looked idly at his guitar. It was too hot. Too hot to do anything but sit here and torture himself apparently. Under the trees at the edge of the beach is a nice spot, not scorching hot like out on the sand but still hot enough to make you want to stretch out like a cat and never move again. Hot enough to get you thinking about the heat and the wet. And about Jack. But slowly, hour by hour, day by day Charlie's thinking that maybe it's not so bad, all this thinking about Jack. He could do worse than fantasise about the hot Doc, at least half of their population is, he's sure of it. And as long as it's just fantasy then there's no harm in it. Right? No need to feel guilty. Right? No need to force himself not to think about the heat and the wet and what Jacks' mouth would taste like, feel like... God, who is he trying to kid? He couldn't stop thinking about it with a gun to his head.
But there is a difference between thinking and acting and Charlie has no intention of acting on any of these thoughts or wants or... He can think about acting on them, about saying something or doing something but that's still just thinking not actual action. Thinking about Jack and thinking about saying something to Jack, that's okay, that's safe because he's still only thinking. Safe in his head, that's where it's all going to stay. So he can think about how he might make up some pretext to get Jack alone, about when would be the best time, and the best place to go for privacy. He can think about what he might say, but maybe words are overrated. He does have a tendency to babble when he's nervous. So maybe just coming right out, no pun intended, and leaping on him. It's not subtle but maybe subtlety is overrated too? Not that it matters really, because this is all in his head and that's where it's going to stay. So today it can be a fast hard kiss because tomorrow it'll be carefully chosen words and the day after it might be an incoherent, but very cute, babble that ends when Jack finally gets it and pulls Charlie to him...And it doesn't matter that it's only fantasy, it doesn't matter that he hasn't had sex with anyone but himself for...okay, okay it's not important how long it's been. The important thing is that...umm the important thing is...right, that it's all in his head, that he's not actually going to say or do anything.
But how long can you live in your head without actually going, you know, crazy? Maybe he already was? No, he'd read somewhere that crazy people never know that they're crazy, so if he was wondering if he was crazy then he probably wasn't. But you never know with crazy people. For the sake of his sanity maybe he should just...
No absolutely not! There will be no actual, real, telling. No showing, no kissing and definitely no... Right, you're right, it would be a bad BAD idea. Charlie can't help himself, it's the heat he's sure of it, but he wants to talk to Jack. No not just talk he corrects himself, he wants to tell Jack. Tell him that he thinks about him, about touching him, about kissing him. Tell him that he thinks about the heat and the wet and Jacks mouth, how he would taste and feel...
Charlie often wonders if his mind is out to get him. He had thought they'd come to a reasonable understanding about the whole Jack thing. He'd thought they had agreed that he was allowed to think, to fantasise, as long as that's all it was. Now it seems his mind has changed the rules, his mind has decided that it would be a great idea to do exactly what they had agreed not to do. And of course his cock agrees, but then it would. Why is everyone out to get him?! Now that's just paranoid, not a good look at the best of times. Why is he out to get himself?
Charlie watches the surf rolling onto the sand, if he's going to do something he'll get his chance soon. Jack's talking to Claire, telling her not to get too much sun probably, but he's almost done. He's standing up, brushing the sand off the back of his pants, turning away from the awesome sight of the endless ocean and walking towards the treeline. The treeline, where Charlie just happens to be sitting. That must be fate right? It must be meant to happen, right? Right?
"Hey Charlie, how you doing?"
"Hey, uh hey Jack. Listen man, can I talk to you for a second?"
the end