Work Text:
Toothbrush
by Anne Marsh
"Here."
Sayid turned, catching the thrown object by reflex before slanting a questioning look to Sawyer.
"Thought maybe you'd be wanting that."
His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Uh, 'cause it's a *toothbrush*. You do brush your teeth, don't you?"
"Why are you giving me this? What do you want from me in return?"
"What? Nothing. Can't a guy give another guy a toothbrush without getting the third degree?"
"When that guy is you?"
"Okay. Maybe I want one thing from you. But it's nothing huge!"
"Let's hear it."
Sawyer didn't say 'I want to make out with you, so brush your damn teeth'. He was thinking it.
"It's a good toothbrush. Got them gum-massaging rubber doohickeys. Never been opened."
"At this point, any toothbrush would be a good toothbrush. What do you want?"
"Best thing about it, it's a forgiveness toothbrush. I'm giving you this toothbrush, and we're both gonna just forget about you tyin' me up and-- Well, all of it. And I'm not going to hold it against you, and you're not going to beat yourself up, or run off, or avoid me and act all weird. In case that's what all this is about. And if I done something, maybe you could forgive me, too."
"That's an incredible toothbrush indeed."
"So... keep it, okay?"
"Sawyer... thank you."
FIN