Thanks for all the reviewers of the first chapter who wanted a follow-up! Here it is! I originally wrote this as two separate stories over at LJ, but it probably works better as one story. Just having fun being silly here. And the ending is up to you and your own dirty mind. ;-)

Sawyer awkwardly rewrapped the bandage around his arm, cursing at his own inefficiency. You'd think that after so many days he'd have gotten the hang of this, but ever since Jack had refused to help him with it, he'd been forced to do it on his own. He could have asked someone else for help, but that wasn't Sawyer's way. Being in someone's debt was not something that sat well with him. With most of his fingers still bandaged, he felt like he was all thumbs.

"Need some help with that?"

Sawyer looked up to see Jack tapping on the metal brace of the tent. "Good timing, huh?" said Jack, smiling.

"Uh, sure," Sawyer said, waving him inside.

"Brought your meds," Jack said, holding up the bottle of antibiotics Sawyer had been taking since getting stabbed. "And I came for some of that Bactine. My hands are killing me."

He held out his hands for Sawyer to see. The knuckles were still bloody and raw and Sawyer winced to see them. "Ouch, doc. Looks like your prizefighting days are over."

Another rare smile lit up Jack's face. The little lines around his eyes that crinkled up were proof that smiling wasn't completely new to him.

"Let me do that," Jack said, taking the bandage from Sawyer. "It's healing well," he said, looking at the knife wound. "Does it give you any trouble?"

"None to speak of," Sawyer said, not mentioning the occasional twinges of pain it gave him or the worrying numbness from a few days ago.

"Really?" Jack said, expertly winding the bandage around Sawyer's arm. "Because we still have some painkillers if you need them."

"That's a mighty generous offer," Sawyer said. "But I got my own brand of painkiller here." He indicated a large bottle of Jack Daniel's sitting nearby.

Jack looked at him askance. He wasn't serious, was he?

Sawyer's bandage taken care of, he got up to search for the Bactine he had promised the doctor. After a few minutes' digging around, he came up with the disinfectant spray. "Here you go, doc," he said, tossing it to Jack.

Jack sprayed it on his hands in turn and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, man, that's great. It's got this numbing effect. Oh, I needed that."

"So did you explain how you came to resemble a mile of rough road?" Sawyer asked.

"I didn't," Jack said. "Well, Kate asked, but I told her I didn't want to talk about it."

"Your secret dies with me," Sawyer said, flashing his familiar grin. "That tree, though ... I wouldn't trust it. It looked kind of unreliable to me."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said, rolling his eyes with an amused grin. "Rub it in, thanks."

His smile evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. Somehow, out here on the beach, he was able to feel lighthearted, if just for a moment. At the caves, everyone was still sunk in depression over Claire's disappearance. Sawyer's tent was a little oasis from island reality. Somehow, here he didn't feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And thinking these thoughts caused his worries to come crashing back down around him. Jack sighed. "I'd better be getting back. It's getting dark."

"Yeah, sure, doc," Sawyer said, noting Jack's fallen countenance. "But you know, now that you mention it, my arm is giving me some trouble."

"It is?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Sawyer said. "It gets real twingy-like. I think it's time for a dose of medicine." He grabbed the bottle of whiskey. "Want to join me?" he asked, lying back in his airplane seat.

"Sawyer, you shouldn't be drinking when you're on antibiotics," Jack said, sounding for all the world like he was wearing a crisp white coat and a stethoscope around his neck.

"Should... not really in my vocabulary, doc," Sawyer said. He took a swig from the bottle. "It'll put hair on your chest."

Jack smiled. "Yeah, I'm pretty well covered on that front." But he took the bottle. He held it a for a second as if weighing it and then tipped it up and took a big swallow. "Wow," he said, shaking his head as the alcohol hit his throat. He handed the bottle back to Sawyer.

"Atta boy," Sawyer said, smiling, taking another swig. He let out a satisfied sigh. "You know what would go great with this?"

"Ice?" Jack offered, sitting down. Sawyer passed him the bottle without asking and Jack took another hit and handed it back.

"Yeah, I could go for some ice," Sawyer said, closing his eyes, savoring the memory. "Just to hear it hit the glass... which we don't have either," he said, holding the bottle up as if to illustrate the absence of glassware.

"Thai food. And Singha beer" Jack said, reaching for the bottle. "I think that's what I miss the most."

"A Big Mac. With about a million french fries," Sawyer said longingly. "And pizza. Oh man. Fried chicken. Tacos! Coca Cola," he sighed, drawing out the words as if he were actually tasting them.

"Lasagne," Jack countered. "Red wine. Really crusty sourdough bread, fresh from the oven. With butter."

"Oh man, you're killing me," said Sawyer. "I would die happy if I could just get some pancakes - hell, nothing fancy, it could be from a mix even."

"Whipped cream or syrup?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sawyer let out a small groan. "You ... are ... a sadist!" He flopped over, rolling onto the ground in a mock death swoon. "You are going to give me a heart attack. OK. Both! With strawberries. And cherries."

"Oh, that's not fair," Jack replied. "Strawberries! That's just cruel."

Sawyer shrugged, taking another swig. "Now should we talk about what we're really missin'?"

"You mean women?" Jack said, a sarcastic smile playing across his face. "Why, is there a stripper somewhere starving without your business?"

"C'mon, is that nice, doc?" Sawyer asked, pretended to be insulted. "I think Peaches is coping just fine without me."

The two men collapsed with laughter. Jack was laughing so hard he started crying.

"No, man, I miss my bike," Sawyer said. "I could just get on my Harley and be in the next town. And I miss music. I would give anything to be in a bar right now, playing some Stones or Zeppelin on the jukebox, shooting pool. There was this one hot little bartender who always wore these short leather skirts and real low-cut shirts..." he sighed.

"I miss my car," Jack said, nodding. "I miss driving. Hell, I miss everything." He grew quiet and melancholic again. "Everyone probably thinks we're dead. My mom ... by now she knows my father's dead too. I was bringing his body back on the plane."

"Hey, that's ... tough," Sawyer said awkwardly.

"How about you? You have anyone back home. Like Peaches?" Jack asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, I got a million Peaches," Sawyer said, grinning wickedly. "But nah, no one's missing me." He took another swallow from the bottle.

"What's going on?" Kate stood outside the tent, looking at them quizzically. They both looked up at her and then at each other and burst out laughing.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Jack and Sawyer were both obviously drunk and were acting very chummy, practically leaning against each other. They looked very much in sync, down to the scrapes and bruises on their faces. Tears of laughter came to Jack's eyes as he saw her expression of complete surprise.

"Hey, Freckles," Sawyer shouted to her, rather unnecessarily. "You wanna join us?"

"It's a party," Jack said, breaking into giggles.

Kate rolled her eyes, but then she started laughing too. Sawyer looked happy and relaxed. It was good to see Jack happy too, even if he seemed likely to choke with laughter. And neither man had ever looked more handsome. If she had come across either one of them alone like this, she knew what her next move would be. Or at least what she'd want to do. She hesitated and then sat down next to them.

Sawyer handed her the bottle. "Catch up, sweetheart," he said with a leer that still managed to be charming. "We're going skinny dipping next."

"We are?" Jack said, as excited as a five year old. "Yeah! We should!" He jumped up and took his shirt off.

Kate took a swig from the bottle. "You're on," she said.