The little impromptu fete is going swimmingly. Sort of…well… nah… not really. Everybody is there, Jun, Juliet, Hurley, Lara Chang, LaFleur, Kate and everyone gets in Miles' hair about his personal matters. Very personal matters.

We take off where we ended:

Juliet asks Miles to tell everyone why James has banished him off to Hydra. It gets a wee bit uncomfortable…

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Disclaimer: Not mine – none of it.

Meerkat manor

"Pathetic," he said. "That's what it is. Pathetic."
(crosses stream)
"As I thought," he said, "no better from this side."

- Eeyore (A. A. Milne) -

.

Juliet is truly on a roll. Some people really shouldn't drink.

"Tell everyone why he sent you here Miles! What imaginary crime did you commit?!"

"Er…well the…er…yeah…ehum."

He looks up to find LaFleur squinting at him across the table, expectantly, arrested in his movement, fork halfway into his open gob.

"Just tell us Miles, go ahead! You're among friends now." she launches one of her trademark piercing ice blue laser-missiles in LaFleur's direction. Which the obnoxious asswipe apparently chooses to interpret as flirting, judging by the suggestive smirk he returns her. Blatantly showing off his stupid inch-deep dimples.

For the love of God! Juliet. Get a fucking grip!

"Yeah go ahead Gollum! Spill the beans!" he garbles almost unintelligibly. A mass of half masticated food clearly visible in his chock-full mouth as he shoves in another full load. The entire room has grown quiet. The only sound infringing on the absolute silence; the slosh-slosh of LaFleur's sloppy munching.

"Er..." Miles concludes sheepishly hoping that this will suffice as an explanation.

"Yeah, what's up Kabuki Sue? Cat got your tongue?" LaFleur leers at him with that indestructible confidence, throwing him a lecherous wink sideways. Slippery bastard! They've been trashing him for the better part of the dinner but like Teflon - nothing sticks to him.

"Yes, why are you here Miles?"

Ouch - Kate. Eyes round like a meerkat, all nervous energy and expectant curiosity, nibbling at her food. 'Drink woman!' he wills her, 'drink yourself stupid and forget all about this!' She looks terrifyingly sober next to Juliet who wobbles a bit as she tries to lean her chin on her knuckles, elbow sliding off the table. Everyone is waiting.

"Tell us!" Hugo's enthusiastic backing is particularly unwarranted. "What did you do?"

Aw –fuck it. What's with the sodding third degree?!

Jin looks keenly at him – white even teeth visible through a little stilted smile. Not trying the slightest to hide being pleased as butter about the 'Miles-prosecution' in progress. - Bet he can't get it up with Queen Frostine either! - It helps a little to imagine that he's not the only one trying to get it on in the daunting shadow of that legendary slimebucket. Jim-fucking-LaFleur; that impossible sexual yardstick, beneath which all other men quiver like jelly.

Miles pinches his lips shut tightly. Fuck it all. Fuck them all. Worse than the frigging Spanish inquisition. He concentrates on impaling his tortellini on his fork – discovering that he can fit three in one go. (Yay!). He finds that zipping it is usually the best defence in these situations, and then if all else fails. Sulking. So he does both - and in his nervousness he manages to spill cream sauce all over him, fork vibrating like a dentistry-drill in the hand of an amateur. It drips down his chin and down on the front of his overalls. Admittedly falling a bit short on the coolness- scale.

Look at you plate. Look at you freaking tortellini. Don't talk.

"Huh shortcake?! Tell them – go ahead!"

Damn him! Damn LaFleur!

"So shouldn't we talk about the rebellion? Dr Chang and his men trying to blow something up – shouldn't we discuss what to do? Maybe we can stop them?" It's Malcom, straight-backed and tight arsed with a prim little clenched expression on his pale face. He looks genuinely spooked. And Miles finds that he loves him! Loves him.

Yes – yes let's! Let's get back to what is important! The real issues.

A bored unison: "Naaah – let's hear from Miles - come on Miles! Yeah Miles!" echoes through the room.

"Yeah, rebellion-shmellion. Let's hear from Sushi Tei instead!" LaFleur wipes his puss with the back of his hand and shakes his frigging golden mane back. Looking like he's about to eat Miles for afters. And perhaps he will. A little Chinese digestive on top of that sumptuous Italianesque meal.

"Could it be that it got a little bit uncomfortable-having Miles around?" Juliet says in her superbly snooty manner. Like a falcon, eye hooked on her prey and the rest of them are either extremely turned on or scared out of their pants. Or both.

Hey – where does she come off…

Cripes. He might as well lie down and die under the frigging dinner table. The agonizing disgrace.

"Ha! Hardiharhar!! Uncomfortable my ass - Lucy Liu here's gone over my head. – Ain't that right you little bugger?!" turned towards Miles in mocking glee. "Went straight to Horace and ASKED for a transfer to bear poop scooping duty. Volunteered – hah – waddaya' say about that?! "

Oh frigging hell. Miles wishes feverously that the floor could open up and swallow him whole. He'll never live this one down. Never. Who the fuck asks to be transferred to Hydra?! A horny misfit circus freak – that's who! Or even worse; a horny heartsmitten misfit circus-freak!

Kate.

She will know.

Shit.

Next he realizes that he's never seen Juliet this sloshed before – hadn't noticed all the rum and grappa shots slinking down. But she is definitely slurring now and he'd like to lean across LaFleur and just throttle that goddamn Quisling. Shit. He really doesn't need his dirty laundry aired in front of the whole frigging Dharma congregation.

"Yes sure – It is still your fault - he'd probably have to get away from you. I know you can't handle having him hankering after you! You, you, you…. colossal hypocritical homophobe!"

Oh, no – she didn't.

At this LaFleur laughs so hard he first falls off his chair and then rips the seam of his jumpsuit-pants as he tries to crawl up amid the violent convulsions of laughter. It is only then that he notices that his fork is stuck in his thigh and Miles thanks his lucky stars for this little diversion - this respite from the humiliation.

Ha! The gods are on his side – no doubt about it.

LaFleur looks stunned for a moment, watching the fork-handle swaying slightly in his beefy leg. The only one capable of some kind of semblance of action is Juliet. Who, in spite her advanced drunkenness, swiftly pulls the fork out and presses her serviette over the four little holes. She helps him edge down on his seat, still pressing the napkin to his thigh and deftly manoeuvres her ass into the chair where Cindy is – in effect bumping her adversary off. A really nifty little move. Impressive.

Cindy looks seriously peeved, flipping her blond hair behind her shoulders. But she is smart enough to admits defeat without further squabble. It is Juliet after all and she is bloody freakin' scary. Instead she makes her way to Juliet's empty stool besides a spaced-out Jin. Jin peaks up visibly at her arrival, giving her a rather too polite once over and introduces himself dryly in perfect Juliettish school English.

"Jin. How do you do?"

She smiles and thrusts her substantial chest out, her back in a strained concave curve, making Jin blush an ugly shade of purple.

One a hell of a fracas breaks loose. Everyone is fussing over LaFleur. Someone runs to get ice to put on his fork wound and the intoxicated Juliet is looking progressively more affectionate by the second. Dabbing at LaFleur's thigh unnecessarily zealously with her napkin. And not exactly where the puncture wounds are either.

Miles finally relaxes – all attention turned elsewhere.

Phew. He's one lucky dawg!

He is stoked to have gotten away pretty unscratched, and Jimbo had it coming. Definitely. He turns his concentration back on Barbara's marvellous porcini cream sauce and pours himself some more rum. But just as he is about to resume his drinking – rim of glass touching his lips; LaFleur, the enormous douchbag, swings around and attacks him full on.

Completely unaffected by his recent encounter with the cutlery. He's on Miles like a bloody pitbull terrier.

"Soooo – you like me huh Miles?" he taunts, batting his lashes and leaning in revoltingly close. LaFleur's grappa breath hits him straight in the face. "Do you loooove me?".

Fuck this!

It's obviously a choice between eat or be eaten and Miles is definitely plunging his teeth in first. So he pushes his face up in LaFleur's ugly mug. Puts on a pretty worthy imitation of Cindy's pout and murmurs with a faux sex-kittenish voice:

" Yeah, I frigging love you dude and what – are – you - gonna'- do about it?!" Capping it of with wet kissing noises. " What's the matter?!! You scared of a little man-love are you?! Are ya?!"

This is the point when Malcolm decides to call it a night and shoots up from his seat, leaving the table without a word.

Hurley is hooting, someone wolf-whistles (Jin?). Kate seems more perplexed than actually amused. Juliet's face contorted in a prissy grimace, looking somewhat put off by this blatant display of manly affection. The natural precursor to a proper cock-fight. Feathers rustling, combs raised, wings spread menacingly.

"Hah! Come and get it – why don't you Tjing Chong." LaFleur gnarls but he still puts a palm on Miles chest and tries to keep his persistent suitor at arms length. Miles looking most of all like a lovesick aardvark leans on LaFleur's hand with all his body weight bringing them effectively to a stand still where no one really moves anywhere.

"And I will… you know I will! Come here cutiepooh – come to papa!" Miles is getting really into it and the only thing on his mind is to get one over on that conceited gorilla.

"So you worming your way over to Hydra had nothing to do with someone else?! Ha?! Huh?!" LaFleur says as he turns his head sideways, marginally avoiding Miles stretched out slobbering lips.

Miles doesn't know where it comes from and right now – he doesn't care.

Pow!

His fist darts out and makes an extremely satisfactory immediate contact with LaFleur's jaw. The giant oaf looks momentarily stunned and then vaults himself onto Miles with a roar, slamming him to the floor, knocking over both his own and Miles' glass. Rum splattering all around.

"Gonna' whoop your skinny ass! Gonna' be all over you like a cheap suit!" he grunts as he gets a good thwack in sideways and Miles has time to think that that's a pretty darn cool line. Wishes he'd thought of it first before LaFleur throws another punch that doesn't quite find its way. Thankfully. They grapple on the floor like two alley cats. More claws and teeth than muscles.

"Oh yeah?" Miles pants "Ooooh, you big scary boy! I'm so scared – ooooh." He fakes a violent quiver while trying to evade LaFleurs uncoordinated blows. In a fluke move he manages to clinch hold of a full fist of the freak's dirty blond hair and he yanks it viciously.

"Arrrg, fucking hell!!"

"What's the matter? Got a bee up your bonnet?!" Miles tugs again, hoping he might be able to rip a bald spot. Yeah, how'd the ladies like that huh?!

LaFleur grips him by the collar and thumps him the best he can but Miles quickly wiggles out of his clasp, dodging the clumsy attacks until unfortunately Lafleur gets plain lucky and manages to get him in a classic chicken-wing arm lock.

"Auf! Fuck!" Miles yelps as tartly as he can "That all you got!? - Big macho-man; just stomp on the underdog - why don't you!" He is hardly in a position to be cocky but if he's going down he will do it like a man. And Kate is watching. He won't take any more bullying from that ginormous beef head. Not now. Not here.

"Hah! Underdog my ass! You sneaky son of a bitch. Right under my nose too– I warned ya' to stay the hell away… didn't I?!" LaFleur applies more pressure making Miles frog-kick and squirm like a massive overall clad anaconda. "Didn't I?!"

"Eeek!"

"James, lay off him!" Juliet, bloody champion of lost causes cuffs James across the top of his thick handsome skull. "Haven't you've hurt him enough."

Dang right he has!

Though it's still fricking undignified to have her fight his battles. But amazingly her words have the desired effect and LaFleur lets go immediately. Miles grins at this as he struggles to find his legs again. – Looks like someone is a little obedient lapdog after all.

LaFleur is resolutely pushed down in his pew by Juliet and Hugo helps Miles sit down on the empty plastic chair next to him – both men wheezing, out of breath. Miles takes a peek in Cindy's little hand mirror and is surprised to notice that no substantial visible damage has been done. Not much more of blues and turquoise shades than what he had before. He's probably getting used to the constant abuse of the last few days; Hugo, LaFleur, Kate, LaFleur…..Everybody's fucking punching-bag.

And Jayzuss Mary, dear mother of God! That chicken-wing arm lock was not for sissies. He clasps his aching side and reaches to self-medicate with a liberal refill of rum.

"James. How could you!?" gasps Juliet at the sight of Miles in considerable pain, the fork-wound-ice hastily passed to him – an undeniably more deserving cause. And man, she looks pissed. He sure is glad he's not LaFleur now – and a little excited to see how this will play out.

"Not cool dude, not cool," It's Hugo butting in, shaking his head disapprovingly. The rest of the crowd nods in agreement, amen to that. Haha, guess who is the bad guy now?

LaFleur skims the faces of the gathered crowd fleetingly, astounded to find the whole room in a unified disapproving frown.

"Yeah right – boohoo! – If I'd had it my way this bozo would have stayed right put! Hell – I made it clear didn't want him anywhere near her!" His stabs his finger in Kate's direction.

Oh, it's like a bloody tennis match, everyone's head moving simultaneously in the direction of the pointed finger. Hugo shines up like a lighthouse over there – like he has drawn some entertaining conclusions of his own. His lips shaping the words 'I knew it! I knew it!'.

And the rest of them stop speaking, stop moving, stop breathing.

"Say what?..."Kate breaks the stifling silence. She looks woozy and out of it, like she is too slow to keep up with the twists and turn. And frankly Miles feels like he's been left behind too. He has no idea anymore why he fights this. Let that freaking moron tell the whole world!

Let him!

"You're a dog alright Miles. What the fuck did you disobey me for. Told ya' to stay the hell away from her!" LaFleur glowers at Miles like he's good to have another go at him.

"What are you talking about James – can't you see that you have broken the poor guy's heart!?" Juliet comes to his aid, her eyes filled to the brim with a drunkard's slushy sentimentality.

But for Greenspan's fucking sake. Lay off the sauce woman! He pretends to study his fingernails.

"China blue here does not have the hots for yours truly …" LaFleur , obnoxiously trying to build up some kind of climax.

He must put a stop to this. He grinds his teeth - heart pounding like a jackhammer.

"Want another fork in you - Jimbo?..." he sneers, trying his best to come across as intimidating. The result however is quite disappointing, each and everyone turning to bestow him a pitying look.

"Hah, yeah that would be like really silly." Cindy suddenly makes her presence known. "He wasn't gay with me – were you Miles?! I'll testify to that – I'll tell them, should I Miles?!"

She titters in her little annoying high pitched giggle and Miles thanks the sweet lord above that he didn't go for an 'encore' with her after all. The only thing mildly pacifying about that giggle is the way it joggles her bust. Every male creature around the table is caught up by the tantalizing vision and lovely thoughts of the birds and the bees only to be cruelly jostled back to reality by Juliet.

"No thank you Cindy. That won't be necessary," she says wryly, totally unflustered by the other blonde's sudden outburst. "But I'd like to hear from James now. What is this all about?"

LaFleur jabs his index finger repeatedly in Miles' direction. Juliet grabs his hand and forces it down in his lap, in a preventive measure to avoid another childish rumpus breaking out.

"Caught that perv copping a feel of Miss Congeniality's modest assets here – and she was passed out cold – blind drunk. Who did you think beat the crap out of him?!"

Both Kate and Miles squirm in their seats. Kate throws him a hasty flittering glance, frowning and mouthing: "did you?" At which Miles vigorously shakes his head and screws his finger against his temple indicating that LaFleur is indeed out flying the kookoo express. Also using a completely different hand gesture to show that she does not have modest assets. She grins at him and he feels his ears sizzle.

But the attention is really not on him anymore. All minds on the bickering security boss and his formidable ex.

The tension. Will they? Won't they? It's unbearable. It's awsome!

"Ok so you beat the pulp out of your friend over her! What does that tell me?" Jules says in a self restrained froth-around-the-gills sort of way. Her blue eyes bloodshot and wild.

"Ah, Jules, Blondie, babe you know I have to look out for her. She's not normal, she makes fucked-up choices all around – just look at how she hooked up with the doc. Freckles is a friend honey – nothing more – just trying to be a good guy. Goddammit Jules, I did it for you!!"

Honestly – that's a bit weak as defences go. Not a chance she'll gobble that up.

"Eh,… I don't really agree with that…That part of not normal…." Kate mutters but no one pays her any heed and she fiddles nervously with her serviette.

Silently - Miles wholeheartedly agrees about the Doc. Jacko - that was more than a tad weird. He fails to see the charm of that slack jawed boy-scout. Then again, the scene unfolding in front of his very eyes is a clear testament to the mind blowing stupidity of women in the face of an excessive dose of testosterone.

Give a chick, any chick, a big macka-daddy with chiselled stubbly jaw, dimples and some biceps - and sure as hell; she will transform into a complete saphead. Oh, and apparently, it doesn't hurt to throw in some blond unkempt hair and washboard stomach into the deal. The shallowness of it all – it's freaking sickening is what it is!

Astonishingly Juliet looks close to tears and something quite outlandish follows as the others watch in disbelief. LaFleur suddenly grasps her chin in his fingers and looks at her with such tenderness that even Miles get a little teary eyed.

Nah! - Who are you kidding?

He doesn't go for that kind of sappy crap.

But maybe he should start working out? Cultivate a manly-man five-o'clock-shadow? Argh - nope that won't work. Only able to grow some peach fuzz above and below chin. Damned Chinese DNA and the fucking horse it rode in on. Another reason to hate Dr. Chang.

"Aw babydoll– cutiepooh, ya' know there's only you." LaFleur bends towards Jules, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers, his ugly mop of greasy girl-hair whipping from side to side.

Ah that guy is so full of crap – there is no way Jules will fall for that monumental truckload of bullshit. It's just plain cheesy.

"Oh baby. I'm…I'm…mmmm." Urgh. Ice queen clearly melting.

Miles has to turn away but peril is everywhere and his eyes accidentally fall on Kate. She makes a retching gestures, indicating two fingers in her throat and he responds by grimacing "I know!".

"Sorry sweetcheeks –even if you dig someone don't mean you're supposed to be with that hottie." he says softly in Cindy's direction giving her perky rack, one last admiring peek at which Juliet promptly smacks him over the head. "But I always got you back pumpkin!" he adds briskly.

Grotesque is what it is.

"As long as you don't have her back or front or anything," Juliet snaps but everyone watching this knows that LaFleur is in the honey. Banished no more – back to domestic bliss.

Cindy isn't the brightest fish in the sea, Miles knows this by experience, but he admires how fast she sasses out the terrain and her prompt decision to capitulate in face of Jules undisputed victory. Female instincts maybe? Survival of the fittest and all that.

"Ya you know – whatever," she says and stands up abruptly, flicks her hair back and places a hand on a curvy velour clad hip, calling backwards. "Always liked Japanese guys anyway. You coming Ginny?"

"It's Jin, and I am Korean" he tries to correct her but gets up all the same. "Can I call you Sunny?"

They disappear in a chitter-chatter out the door, mostly Cindy upholding the conversation part but at least, Jin nods eagerly and looks genuinely stoked. He evidently has got a thing for blondes.

Jules and her big ape are all over each other and weirdly, He automatically scan for Kate's reaction. Will she look miserable - like she usually does?

She does.

She looks like a gnarled battered puppy, definitely worse for wear. Hangdogged expression, and everything wilting. And fucking hell. To see her pine for that dunce. It hurts worse than a thousand polarbear darts to his ass. Well that's figuratively speaking off course – that's not exactly where the pain sits. He thinks for a fleeting moment that he should go over to her.

And do what?

A loud clanking and clatter from the kitchen interrupts this train of thoughts. It sounds like someone is getting bludgeoned to death with a titanium searing pan in there.

A few seconds later, peering skittishly out from the kitchen door; Phil with his security overalls askew, flushed cherry-red and a clearly dishevelled Barbara trailing behind. Her skirt on backwards. Ignoring all the inquisitive glances, they glide right by, hand in hand out through the exit door. A wildly incompatible couple, that chillingly enough comes across as the most appropriate pairing in the room.

Wow. It's like Meerkat Manor on psycho-pharmaceuticals.

While everyone is still reeling from the Phil-Barbara shock, Kate silently gets to her feet, Miles' heart sinking to his knees. She pushes the hair out of her mucky face, doesn't even look at him. Probably their last night on Hydra Island and there she is slinking through the door.

Fab. Fricking fab job Miles!

Really fucking awesome. Everyone else hooking up - people that ideally ought to be separated by a gigantic razor wired fence. And here he is. Punched-up, faux-gay, perverted boob-groping, bear-poop shuffling Hydra volunteer. With the hirsute challenges of a prepubescent boy -and not a fucking inch closer to clinching the deal! With her.

Pathetic.

If only he'd had some frigging balls worth their name - he'd have gone after her. Would have told her how he feels.

He sinks his face into his palms. The rum really getting the better of him. His head swirls and he feels mostly like throwing up.

Truly pathetic.

Hell. He might as well go and shoot himself with a polar bear dart

Wrapping it up in a big loving style – people getting it on left and right.

- Except Miles. -

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