Dancing in the Dark
Chapter 1: Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark
A/N: Hi all! Like many people are, I'm certain, I'm completely inspired by music. I hear these songs and they ignite something in my brain and I go nuts if I don't get it down/out. So I figured I'd do a little trilogy here of 3 different songs that all sparked something for me (no pun intended for the chapter title). They are set in the same timeline and are in order. I wanted to make like an angst-sandwich, so we got positive/fluffy chapters on either end and a not-so-fluffy one in the middle. :P
Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not only do I not own Lost or these characters, but the song is by Bruce Springsteen (stud) and called Dancing in the Dark.
—-
Juliet realized being stuck in the 70s sucked, almost as much as being on the island still sucked. But one of the things she realized she hated most, other than the completely obvious things, was being unable to listen to so many of her favorite songs because they hadn't actually been created yet. She'd catch herself humming songs at work and have to stop herself; or, one of the guys would ask her what it was she was humming and whether she made up her own songs. She'd just shrug and say it was something she heard once before changing the subject or walking away.
She found it incredibly annoying. She'd get a song stuck in her head somehow and couldn't even listen to it to try and get it unstuck. It didn't help that, in her mind, almost all the best songs wouldn't be coming out for another decade at least. It was one of the many things she was adjusting to, living in 1974.
Also on that long, long list of things she was adjusting to, was living with James. At first he had been a pig, and she was convinced he did half the things he did just because he knew it pissed her off. But over time, he seemed to hate her less and actually tried to be a good roommate. At least, she hoped he hated her less. She couldn't imagine he still did after almost five months of sharing a house.
She tried to be a good roommate to him, too. She cooked most meals because she knew he didn't like to cook, and let him have the first shower since she always took longer anyway. If she had to take a stab in the dark, she'd wager they were almost friends at this point. Or rather, she certainly hoped they were.
After five months of being stuck here, Juliet had practically given up all hope that their friends would return. She tried to find positive things to focus on, but it was hard. She barely had friends here, she had a job that was fine but it certainly wasn't what she wanted to do forever, and she couldn't even find solace in her favorite musical artists like she used to do when she was alone and upset on the island (or even in Miami, for that matter).
In a few weeks it would be 1975 and she'd be celebrating yet another New Years on this stupid rock. She dreaded the day so much, not only because it meant another year on the island, but because everyone else was so happy and celebratory about it. Seeing other people laughing and carrying on with their family and friends made Juliet feel like a grinch, or an old curmudgeon or something, because all she wanted to do was crawl in a hole and drink herself into oblivion instead.
One evening, two weeks before Christmas, she decided to do just that. As she was finishing up her work at the motor pool, she planned it all out. She was going to celebrate her own way and get it all out of her system so she could be a curmudgeon during the holidays. It was far better than trying to act positive and peppy around everyone else; she was tired of putting up facades for other people's benefit. If she felt like shit and wanted to act like a sour bitch, she should be able to. If she wanted to cry all day in her room, she should be able to do that, too. Did she want to do that today? No. She wanted to bake. And she wanted to drink. And most of all, she wanted to dance.
James was working late, so she had the whole house to herself. Once she got home she showered, changed into her comfiest clothes, and threw her hair up into a messy bun. She brought out everything she needed to make cookies and laid it all on the counter. Her family had made the same recipe ever since she was a kid, so she knew it by heart. She actually wondered if out there, somewhere, her younger self was baking with Mom and Rachel now, too. It brought her comfort to know it was a very real possibility.
Next, she rifled through their record collection, trying and failing to find anything that suited her mood. She was dying to listen to some 80s music, and she hoped to find something, anything that gave her the same vibe. But all the records they had were not what she wanted. After a few minutes of searching, she gave up. If she couldn't listen out loud, she'd just have to make do in her head.
Finally, before she got started on her baking escapades, Juliet needed alcohol, pronto. She found some Dharma Vodka tucked into the back of the freezer and silently thanked James for preferring beer. The only mixer she had was orange juice, so she settled on making Screwdrivers. They weren't her favorite, but they'd have to do. She shrugged as she poured her first drink over ice; It's like a downgraded Mimosa, she figured. Right away, she chugged it back and poured another one. Then, she did the same thing and chugged back that drink, too. She grinned as the lightheadedness soon started to kick in, and she smiled to herself before pouring out her third drink and getting started on making her dough. She was finally excited about something, and it felt good. Plus, secretly, way deep, deep down, she was looking forward to sharing the end result with James. She knew he had a sweet tooth and thought cookies would be a great way to surprise him after a long day at work.
—-
"LaFleur, turns out you don't need to stay late after all!" Miles said. "I mixed my days up. I'll need you to cover for me tomorrow, not tonight."
"And remind me why the hell I'm doin' that again?" James grumbled. He was glad to be going home on time but still not sure how he got roped into doing Miles a favor.
"Sarah? Remember? I'm going over to her house for dinner, if ya know what I mean…" Miles waggled his eyebrows and James merely rolled his eyes in response.
"In what universe is MILES gettin' laid and I'm not?" James groaned to himself before standing up and stretching. It had been hours that he'd been sitting at the security desk, bored to tears.
"Suck it, LaFleur. But hey, at least your roommate is hotter than mine." Miles held his hands up, trying to placate James' sour mood. "I'm sure she walks around naked and cooks for you all the time and lets you watch her shower…"
"Like hell she does!"
"Even if she doesn't, at least you get to check her out all the time. Must be nice. Alls I got is the guy who doesn't speak any English and mopes around all day."
"Even if I did, not like I can do anything about it anyway," James muttered under his breath, hardly even paying attention to the latter half of Miles' statement. He did check Juliet out constantly, but it's not like it would ever lead to anything. He knew any woman on this island would sleep with him if he tried even a little bit, but he just wasn't into any of them, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. Guess it was his own damn fault he was as backed up as he was.
"What was that?" Miles asked, looking up at James from his seat.
James growled. "Nothin' Enos. I'll be in tomorrow for ya. Just don't rub it in or I'm not comin'." With that, he walked out of the security station and headed toward his house.
When he arrived, the first thing he noticed was that he could hear talking coming from inside. He wondered if Juliet had someone over. He'd seen Amy on his way home sitting on her porch talking with some chick, so it couldn't have been her. Maybe it was Jin? But no, Jin was on patrol tonight with Phil… Did Juliet even have any other friends here?
He was curious, but didn't want to spook them if she had (gulp) a man over. Gross. James' stomach tightened at the thought, and he didn't know why. A jealous rage came over him and he had to take a steadying breath to calm down. Surely she was just talking to another woman, right? Slowly, he opened the door and crept inside. He saw the whole house was dark except for the kitchen.
And what a fucking sight he found there.
Juliet was covered in flour, singing her heart out, and dancing (dancing!) around the kitchen. She wore oven mitts on both hands and was wearing short shorts and a black tank top. Her hair was up on her head in a bun and she was absolutely grooving. She was having a blast.
James was startled. He had no clue what to do. There was no music playing, but she was singing as if there was. He felt rooted to the spot. So, as anyone would do (James was certain) he stood there in the dark living room, hand over his mouth, eyes wide, and just watched her. He was too surprised to even laugh.
Juliet, however, did not even notice James' entrance. She was, in many ways, in her own little world. The cookies were about ready to come out of the oven so she donned her oven mitts. The kitchen was an absolute mess, and she didn't care. She was completely covered in the flour she spilled earlier and she thought it was hilarious. As far as Juliet was concerned, this was the most fun that she'd had in ages. She wasn't sure if this night could get any better.
"I get up in the evenin', and I ain't got nothin' to say. I come home in the morning, I go to bed feelin' the same way. I ain't nothin' but tired, man I'm just tired and bored with myself. Hey there baby, I could use just a little help. Can't start a fiiiiire, can't start a fire without a spark. This guns for hiiiire, even if we're just daaancin' in the dark." She sang at the top of her lungs, only slightly slurring her words.
James desperately wondered how drunk she was. And oddly enough, his heart swelled just watching her. He didn't dare move, lest she notice him and stop… well, whatever it was she was doing. Baking cookies? Is it even wise to use an oven when you're clearly wasted? He eyed the vodka bottle near the end of the countertop and his eyebrows raised once he saw how little was left.
Juliet swayed her hips back and forth, closed her eyes, and spun in a circle. She imagined Bruce Springsteen on stage and pretended she wasn't in her little kitchen but in the audience at a concert. She just sang and smiled and pictured the crowd of people (normal people!) around her. Even James was there, dancing with her. (Wait, why was James there?) After a moment though, the timer beeped and she was pulled out of her daydream. She squealed in excitement before taking the cookies out of the oven.
"Messages keep gettin' clearer, radio's on and I'm movin' round my place. I check my look in the mirror, wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face! Man I ain't gettin' nowhere. I'm just livin' in a dump like this. There's somethin' happenin' somewhere, baby I just know that there is."
Juliet looked ridiculous. James couldn't deny it. She was removing the cookies from the trays but forgot to take the oven mitts off. So, she was handling the warm cookies and smooshing them in the process. Had she forgotten spatulas existed?! James' face hurt from smiling so much. As ridiculous as she looked, she also looked really fucking cute. He'd never seen her so happy. She was smiling ear to ear and laughing as she shoved a cookie in her mouth whole (and then continued to sing regardless). James couldn't help but let his thoughts roam wild and imagine that cookie were something else... Wait, what!? He thought. (Since when did he picture Juliet doing anything like that with him?!) She kept singing but he was hung up on that thought that seemed to come out of nowhere. Did he…? No. No way. She was his friend, who he thought was incredibly sexy, who he'd love to tear the clothes off of (obviously) - but he didn't… James Ford didn't get crushes, that's for damn sure.
Juliet continued to dance and eat cookies. She then downed her fifth (sixth?) drink before putting three cookies on a plate next to the stove. She was proud of herself for not forgetting to leave some out for James. God, James. What a hot piece of ass he was. She'd like to do all kinds of crazy things with him, she thought to herself before laughing at the absurdity of the idea. Yeah, sure, James and Juliet, sitting in a tree - A-R-G-U-I-N-G. (That was more like it). He'd never give her the time of day. She was just lucky he hadn't smothered her in her sleep by now.
"I'm dyin' for some action. I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book. I need a love reaction, come on now baby, gimme just one look. You can't start a fiiiire, sittin' round cryin' over a broken heart…" Juliet was dancing around in circles now, but she started trailing off and lowering her volume. She looked like she was getting dizzy. That, or her positive mood was abating, James couldn't be sure. He was wondering what the hell was going on with her and why she was even doing any of this at all when it happened.
James took an involuntary step forward, right on the fucking creaky floorboard to the right of the front door.
Damn it, he thought to himself, as she whirled around wide-eyed, finally spying him by the door. She couldn't see quite clearly through the dark, but there was no mistaking James' outline standing dumbstruck by the front door, one leg stretched out in front of him, midstride.
There were no words. The silence hung between them like a death sentence. Juliet was more than embarrassed. More than humiliated. She was completely, and irreparably, mortified to see James standing there, with a goofy smile on his face.
James figured the jig was up now. He'd likely never see that side of Juliet ever again. He tucked away the memory, burning it into his brain like a brand. (Since when did he care about seeing her that way? Literally, what was happening to him!?) He walked the rest of the way into the kitchen and approached her the way one would a rabid animal: with an overabundance of caution and awareness. Or well, maybe not a rabid one. But definitely a wounded one. Her face was stony but her cheeks were bright red.
"I… I made cookies…" she breathed out. In the deafening silence, it sounded louder than she intended. She couldn't even meet his eyes. So she turned around and did the only thing she could think of to do: she downed the rest of her drink and put her face in her hands, leaning her elbows on the counter.
James didn't know what came over him. He really didn't. He'd still yet to let out a laugh. He truly didn't think any of this was funny. Well, maybe he did a little bit, but overall he found it adorable and charming and… refreshing… to see her that way. He'd gotten to know her these last few months and couldn't see her as an 'Other' anymore; he knew she had feelings and was a good person. Better than him, he was certain. Juliet however, was holding back tears. And if she were being completely honest, at this point she was holding back her nausea, too.
He approached her slowly and placed a hand on either of her hips. She stiffened under his touch but didn't pull away. Gently, he turned her around so that she was facing him, keeping his hands firmly on her hips as he steadied her. Her cheeks were bright pink, whether it be from embarrassment or alcohol James couldn't be sure. But goddamn if she wasn't gorgeous. She looked innocent and scared and he felt terrible that he'd even thought about laughing at her. She was just trying to have fun in this shitty year on this shitty island. If he were really being honest, and he'd never, ever, tell her this, but… he kind of wanted to join her. At least for the dancing; not so much the singing. James was a terrible singer.
Juliet could see a look in James' eyes that she'd never seen before. Occasionally, she'd dream about him giving her that look, and fantasize about it, sure, but she never thought she'd see it up close. Was it the alcohol? It had to be. James only barely tolerated her. (Right?) She was very aware of the fact that she was covered in flour and probably reeked of vodka and orange juice. She was waiting for the laughter to come, but actually… she was surprised it hadn't come already.
"Go on… laugh… I look a wreck… I'm a terrible singer…" She averted her eyes, hoping to look anywhere but into his. So it was no surprise she didn't see him lean in ever so slightly, until his face was inches from hers. She could feel the subtle shift in pressure on her hips but was too drunk to realize what it meant. Suddenly, his lips were on hers, and she barely registered what was happening before he pulled back. It was more… chaste… of a kiss than she ever expected James to give to someone. She thought he was all fire and passion all the time, but that kiss was…
"...Wow…" she almost purred. She gazed up at him in confusion and awe. He'd yet to say a word to her, and only smiled down at her in response. What the hell just happened? Since when did James have any interest in kissing her!? Had she just… imagined that whole thing?
James could see the confusion bloom on her face, and goddamn it - if it only made her look even cuter. James was surprised himself, to be frank. He hadn't realized he wanted to kiss her so bad until he touched her. Feeling the soft skin of her hips, seeing her eyes searching his for what? Acceptance? Understanding? Her vulnerability made him want to protect her, and seeing her big blue eyes and flour all over her face… he couldn't help himself. Nor did he even want to try and deny his impulse. To prevent from startling her too much, and not wanting to take advantage of her while she was clearly hammered, he kept his kiss firm but innocent. (Who the hell was he anymore?) He watched her face for any reaction and what he saw only turned him on more. She'd liked the kiss. She seemed to want more of the kiss. But she was also still very, very confused, it seemed. So was he, actually.
He decided it was time to break the silence. "Springsteen, huh?"
She smiled. "And Pat Benetar. And Fleetwood Mac. Oh, and I tried to sing 'Africa' but I couldn't remember all the lyrics so I used 'da-da-da's' instead." He grinned down at her and wrapped her in a hug. He didn't care about the flour. She was like soft butter, molding into his body and melting at his touch. She smelled good and James couldn't help but run his hands along her back. (Did a whimper just come out of her mouth? Jesus Christ).
"Smells good in here. You make cookies?" James asked, pulling away after a few moments (though he desperately didn't want to). He knew holding on longer would only make his… need, grow. Literally.
"Yeah!" she exclaimed, embarrassment starting to abate. "I put some out for you!" She handed him the plate proudly.
"Ya know I ain't Santa, right?" He chuckled before popping one of the cookies into his mouth whole. Hey, when in Rome, right?
"Then why do I wanna sit on your lap?" She laughed for three whole heartbeats before she paled and put her hands up over her mouth. Aaaand, there we go again with the humiliation. Meanwhile, James immediately choked on his cookie. He regretted ever trying to eat it whole in the first place.
"Oh my God, I can't believe I said that. I'm so sorry," she moaned. She gripped both sides of her head with her hands, grimacing. "God, It's gonna be weird now isn't it?"
James, after finally swallowing and catching his breath, started laughing. "How much have you had?"
She shook her head. "I lost count. I don't know." She looked like she was on the verge of tears.
"How drunk are ya then? Ya got like a good buzz, or are ya gonna pass out any second?"
She shrugged, hands starting to rub together nervously. "I don't know. I don't think I'm that bad …"
James nodded. "Lemme ask ya this. I wanna kiss you so fuckin' bad. Can I? Cuz I dunno if I can wait til you sober up. I ain't gonna take advantage of ya but I've probably never been so turned on by you in the whole six months or whatever of knowin' ya." He stepped closer to her. Only inches separated them. Juliet contemplated his words. Was she only into him right now because she was lonely? Because she was drunk? Did it matter? Yes, actually, it does matter, she argued with herself. James was her friend. Wasn't he? Can you even ruin a friendship you don't know if you really have?
James was waiting patiently for her decision. Which, to be frank, turned her on even more. He was being very un-James right now. She assumed if he wanted her, he would have thrown himself at her by now. But he wasn't. He was giving her a choice, which, she's never really fucking had, has she?
She threw herself into his arms, put her arms around his neck, and kissed James wildly. He stumbled back slightly in surprise but held on tight. His tongue tangled with hers and he could taste the vodka and orange juice lingering there. He backed her into the counter once more, and hoisted her up so she was sitting on the edge. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him in closer. James' heartbeat was hammering wildly. He couldn't believe what was happening right now.
Then she did the unexpected. She reached her hand into the open flour jar next to her, grabbed a handful, and dumped it on James' head. He pulled back in surprise before reaching up to tentatively touch the soft white substance.
"Oh, yer gonna regret that," he said in his most southernmost of drawls. Juliet was grinning madly and waggling her eyebrows at him.
"Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it, cowwwboy?" she drawled right back.
He had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he said, "Oh, you'll see, Blondie… you'll see…"
Screw what she said earlier - this night did actually get much, MUCH better.
A/N: So I struggled with the direction of this a little bit after I'd gotten started. I wanted to find a not-obvious way of playing out the reason I chose that particular song, but I hope it's obvious now. But me being me, I'd have gotten 'em into bed right away just because (swoon), but I also wanted it to end playfully too. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and please please review because I have turned into quite the review-whore and I'm not ashamed of it. :)
