Title: Delicate
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack/Juliet
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or its characters.
W.I.P.

Juliet entered the Hydra, a turkey dinner balanced on her arm.
"I brought you dinner Jack," she said placing the plate on the big metal table, "It's almost Christmas and I'm working on a new cranberry sauce, you get to be my guinea pig."

Jack's eyes fluttered open and he dragged himself up from the corner he was scrunched into. Jack walked up to the table, his dark hazel eyes never once leaving Juliet's clear blue ones. His arm went out and with a smash the plate hit the wall before falling to pieces on the floor. Juliet sighed.

"Okay," she said in a long drawn out breath, "Perhaps guinea pig was a poor choice of words."
She smiled at Jack and despite himself he smiled too, a thin line of a smile, his lips barely curved up at the corner.
"You know," Juliet said bending over to pick up the broken pieces, "That's the second plate you've broken. You've ruined my china set for sure now."
"I'm sure you can put the pieces back," Jack finally spoke.
"Oh, I'm not interested in fixing things Jack, that's who you are," Juliet said knowing the words would cut through him. But seeing the moment of hurt in his eyes, the moment before he managed to deflect it, stung her core.
"I'll get you another plate," Juliet said and walked out.
…..

Juliet struggled with sleep. It wasn't anything new. Her demons, her doubts, often kept her awake at night. Only now it was Jack. The look on his face when she spat Sarah's words back at him, accusing him of needing to fix things. That look was delicate. Jack went all soft then, not drowning in sorrow like before, just sad.

Juliet tossed in her bed. Sometimes she thought she was getting close but then she felt the wall going back up. The invisible wall between them that was thicker than the glass that usually separated them. The distance was learning to grow and she didn't know how to find her way through it.
….

"Here," Juliet pushed a plate in front of Jack as he sat back in his corner, "It's only a leftover turkey sandwich but I snuck in a beer."

Jack noticed the sandwich was on a paper plate this time. He chuckled inwardly and to Juliet's surprise he took the can from her hand. His long fingers lightly grazed over hers. She felt the connection, she thinks he felt it too; the tiny electrical current, because he paused before letting go.

"So you thought about what you might want for Christmas Jack?" she asked as he drank form the rim of the tin can. His eyes shot up, starring deeply into her face, a penetrating gaze.
"I mean besides the obvious," Juliet said, acknowledging the absurdity of her question.
Jack was silent, but she gained her victory as he took his first bite, chewing the sandwich slowly, savoring the taste of food again. Juliet smiled and the honest joy in her face lit the room and him. He sat up straight.
"What do you want?" he asked her.
"Me?" she seemed surprised by his sudden engagement and she wished desperately that Ben wasn't outside in his hovel watching them. She wanted to be alone, to take her time with Jack. Not because she was scared but because their relationship was delicate.
"I want a red dress," she told him inching a little closer to him. Her back up against the cold steel wall that he too rested against.

Jack looked at her sideways, "Why?"
"To look pretty in, why else?"
Then he did it. Jack managed to shock her. To say something she secretly longed to hear but never expected to come from his lips.
"You don't need a dress to look pretty."
Juliet turned and stared at him. Their faces were close, mere inches apart. At times like these, though they were rare, Juliet thought Jack wanted her to touch him, but before her hand could go out, he'd turn away from her, looking into the distance.
"Why red?" he asked, his way of securing the comfortable distance again.
"Because it's not allowed here," Juliet said, "Because He doesn't like it."

Jack didn't ask who He was. Maybe he assumed it was Ben she was speaking of, or maybe he just knew she wouldn't tell him.
"Do you always do what He wants?" Jack asked.
"Not always," she said standing up and stretching.
Jack looked up at her and handed her the empty beer can. She bent down to pick up the plate and leaned in close to his ear, "For instance," she whispered pausing to be sure she had his attention, "Underneath these drab khakis, I'm wearing a black lace thong.