Hi! I forgot I had this sitting around in my files. I got a bunch of messages asking for a James/Juliet wedding, and I said if I ever had a craving to write them again, I'd get right to it. Now, this isn't quite what I promised, but I hope you like it.

James stood outside the door to his flat, nervously patting at his hair, his heartbeat picking up for the umpteenth time that day. "Okay," he said. "You've got this." He opened the door to see Juliet stretched out on his couch, her arm draped over her eyes.

"Lettie?" he asked. "Lettie, babe, are you…are you ready to go out for dinner?" She was still in her healer robes, as she often corrected him. She was in her fourth and final year of healer training, doing the last of her practicals at St. Mungo's. "Lettie?" He walked over and gently took her hand and squeezed.

"Hm?" She sat up, blinking at him. "Oh, you're home." She smiled sleepily. "Sorry, I let myself in." She yawned. "And then I fell asleep."

He laughed. "Well, I gave you a key for a reason. I mean I was hoping you'd spend more time in my bed…but the couch is good too."

She pushed his shoulder and swung her feet to sit properly. "How was work?"

"Work was fine." He nodded. "So, are you going to get ready? We have reservations for six thirty."

She gave him a funny look. "How was your day, Lettie?" she mocked. "I'm so glad you came to see me."

James smiled sheepishly. "I love you. I'm so glad to see you." He bent down and kissed her sweetly. "Now, is that what you're wearing to dinner?"

She sighed. "Actually, James," she shrugged out of her robe, "could we skip dinner and stay in tonight? It's been a long week, and I really just want to curl up and—"

"What?" His eyes went wide. "No," he said. "No, no, no, no, no. We have to go to dinner."

She was clearly taken aback by his response. "Why?" she asked slowly.

"Because…" he shoved a hand in his jacket pocket, "because we have reservations."

She frowned. "James, I really don't want to go anywhere."

He looked at her, her pink pout, grey eyes through her curling lashes. "Okay," he agreed. "Yeah, okay. I guess…it can wait for another time."

She smiled at him. "Well, we can have dinner next Friday night," she suggested.

James sighed. "Yeah. Next week." What's one more week of nerve-wracking anxiety?

"Thank you." She got up and pecked his cheek, then headed to the bedroom. "Are my pyjamas in the drawer?" she called.

"Did laundry," he told her. "They should be in the basket."

She rolled her eyes as she found his basket of clean, though rumpled and unfolded, clothes. While she dug through the colours for her purple plaid flannel, James flicked on the stove, shed his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves.

"How's spaghetti sound?" It was the only thing he'd managed to cook on his own without incident.

"Perfect." She emerged out of her robes and in her pyjamas, carrying the rest of the laundry with her to the small round table by the kitchenette. She folded the entire basket while he made dinner. She saved the noodles from being overcooked. He set the table. They ate spaghetti and drank pumpkin juice, and James tried really hard to accept the changes in their evening's plans.

"So, what time are your parents expecting you home?" James looked over his shoulder as he tried to charm the dishes to wash themselves.

"I'm twenty-two, James," Juliet reminded. She folded up on the couch.

"What time, babe?"

She crossed her arms. "Dad said twelve."

He laughed, expecting as much. "Alright. How about a game of exploding snap?"

She grinned. "Absolutely."

James grabbed the deck, and Juliet moved the coffee table to make space on the rug.

"You're going down, Potter."

"Not a chance, Lettie."

After Juliet won the first round, James called best two out of three. This quickly became best three out of five. Five out of nine. Six of eleven.

Juliet shook her head at his nonsense, stretching out on the rug. "Where's the couch blanket?" she asked.

"The what?" He twined her blonde locks through his fingers, leaning down to brush his lips over her earlobe."Couch blanket?"

"The blanket you always have on the couch," she replied, turning on her side to catch his lips.

"Oh," he said. "It broke."

"It broke?"

"Al and Cae came over. We burned a hole through it."

Juliet laughed, shaking her head. "I'm not going to ask. We'll go buy you another blanket."

He grinned. "Want me to grab you a jumper?"

She sat up. "No, this is fine." She grabbed his jacket off of the couch and slipped her arms through it. It smelled all warm, like his cinnamon soap and the cologne she'd helped him pick out. She wrapped up in it, put her head in his lap, and smiled up at him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

"You seem…strange today," she mused. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Why?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He ran his fingers through her hair. "Everything's great." His eyes landed on the jacket she was in. "Shit."

Her eyes went wide in alarm. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Can I have my jacket back?"

"What?"

He winced. "I just...forgot something. Can I have it back?"

"Okay." She shrugged out of it. "But, can we just both acknowledge that you're being really weird right now?"

"Sure."

She folded it over her arm, surprised when something fell from the pocket. "What—"

"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck."

She picked up the little black box. "James?"

His eyes were shut tightly. "No no no."

"James." She put the jacket down, crawled into his lap, kissed the tip of his nose and touched her forehead to his. "James." He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of her smile.

"What's this?" She held the box up between them.

He opened it. "I had a speech."

"I don't care."

"We were supposed to go to dinner."

"I didn't want to."

"I love you."

"Yes."

"Lettie, I haven't asked yet."

"Ask me."

"Lettie," he began, "will you marry me?"

"Yes, James. Yes, I will." She dropped the box and launched herself at him, arms flung around his neck and lips finding his jawline and the five o'clock shadow (okay, two day shadow) that was there.

He laughed. "This was supposed to be so much more romantic."

She shook her head, pressing him to lie back on the rug, swinging a leg to straddle him. Her hair curtained around them, as she leaned down to catch his lips with hers. "This is perfect." Her nimble fingers were making quick work of his shirt buttons.

His hand gripped hers. "Lettie, what—"

She grinned. "Trying to shag my fiancé."

"It's almost twelve," he managed. Her hips rolled against his.

"So?" There was an unmistakable glint in her eyes. "I'm a full grown woman." Yeah, he'd noticed that. "I have a fiancé and everything."

James laughed, hand blindly searching the rug for the box while the other was finding the warm skin of her lower back.

"That's a very good point," he agreed. He found the box and somehow opened it and withdrew the ring all with one hand.

"It's beautiful." She sat up and held out her left hand. He slid the ring on, eyes meeting hers with a profound happiness.

"Looks good on you," he murmured.

She admired the simple design in agreement. "You know what might make it better?"

"Hm?" He wasn't really paying attention, hands sliding to her waist, breath caught in his chest.

She leaned down, placing a kiss just under his earlobe. "If it was the only thing on me."

He groaned. "Good Godric, woman. You're going to be the death of me."

"Well, 'til death do us part."