Title:   I Didn't Say That
Author:  SM (burntsm0re)
Fandom:  Lost
Pairing:  Locke/Boone, pre-slash
Rating:  PG 

Michael stormed off and Boone shook his head. He couldn’t believe Locke let someone talk to him like that. The guy was a prick and someone had to set him straight before he did something really stupid. He ignored Locke calling after him and followed Michael, but Locke caught hold of him at the outer edge of the camp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his hand like a steel band around Boone’s arm.

A little blood trickled into Boone’s eye and he wiped at it angrily with his free hand.

Locke’s eyes zeroed in on the cut. “Let me take a look--”

Boone jerked free, burning pain flaring from the muscle that would be bruised from Locke’s hold. “I can take care of myself,” he scowled.

“Didn’t say you couldn’t, but I can see what you can’t. Why make it harder on yourself?”

Boone grudgingly admitted he was right. It was no use fighting anyway; he’d probably just get tied up in the woods again. When Locke tugged a rag from his pocket and doused it in water to clean the cut, Boone acquiesced.

Boone stiffened as Shannon came out of the woods from the other path with Sayid on her heels. She said something to the other man and he went back to his shelter, but she stayed at the tree line. Watching him.

Locke was running his fingers over Boone’s scalp, checking for other wounds. He carefully skirted the still healing cut he’d inflicted himself a few days before. “Any pain anywhere else?”

“Just my pride,” he snorted. Ironically, this should also feel like another slap in the face, but he didn’t care. Locke’s fingers were strong and thorough and his skin was tingling from the massage. It was much better than fighting the other man and getting goop slapped on his head with a stick. It felt good and he let Shannon watch someone take care of him for once.

Locke eventually stopped. “I’ll make some salve--”

“No,” Boone cut in. “Not that weird shit again--”

“You don’t want to get an infection.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Boone reminded him. But he wasn’t going to say anything about Locke’s hand still on his shoulder. “I’m sure Jack--”

“I lied last time. Did you?”

“What?” Boone looked up and realized Locke was watching Shannon watching them. “No. She can just… whatever. I don’t care.” He stepped in front of Locke, oddly missing the other man’s hand on his shoulder, and caught his gaze. “I don’t.”

Locke stared back for a moment and finally nodded.

***

Boone thought he was going to crawl out of his skin if Locke didn’t return soon. He should’ve gone with them to find Walt, but Locke made him stay behind in case the kid came back. He should’ve been proud actually. Locke was trusting him to be able to track them and let them know the kid was safe. But he was still annoyed. It looked like he’d been left behind because he was weak.

He knew that’s what Shannon thought.

Finally, just after sunset, Locke and Michael and Walt wandered back. Walt was clinging to his dad like a life preserver and they all looked exhausted. Boone picked up a bottle of water and the bowl of salve and ran over to them.

“Here.” He handed Michael the water.

“Thanks, man.” Michael nudged Walt onto the ground to rest and gave him the water.

Boone looked them over and saw some cuts and scrapes so he offered the salve too. “Put it on his cuts. It’ll keep them from getting infected.” Michael looked at the bowl skeptically. “Locke made it. I’ve used it. It works.”

Michael shook his head to himself and stuck his fingers in the paste. He rubbed it on Walt’s arms and legs and then on his own raw hands.

“You two get a good night’s rest,” Locke said, steering Boone away.

They walked back to Locke’s patch of sand and Locke sat down in his usual position to stare at the ocean and meditate.

Boone sat down in front of him. “I saw your hands too.”

Locke turned them over, seeming to look at his palms for the first time. They were crisscrossed with red welts from the vines. “It’s nothing.”

“I didn’t say it was, but no point in taking any chances. Hold still,” Boone ordered as he scooped up some salve and spread it on Locke’s palms. “Now,” Boone gestured for him to rub his hands together and smear it around.

Locke smiled and did as he was told.

Fin