Five

Night Two

It was Saturday, and Jin's turn to cook. Still sluggish and hungover from the night before, no one had much of an interest in Monopoly or poker tonight. Jin went out for a walk, and Miles retired to his room after he and James had finished washing and drying the dishes.

The towel was still slung over James's shoulder as he processed the day's events, putting the last of the clean dishes in the cabinets. His eyes sought out Juliet, who sat curled on the couch, resting her head on one hand, staring at the pages far longer than required. He knew how fast of a reader she was, and either she was so hungover it was taking her twice as long to get through the sentences, or she wasn't really reading at all. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

He didn't mean to stare, but she probably couldn't even see him from her spot on the couch. He leaned against the counter, running the damp towel through his hands, curling it nervously around his fist.

He hadn't stopped thinking about what she'd said. All day, the words "Maybe we should do it again sometime" ran in an infinite loop through his brain. No matter what he was doing - eating, showering, trying to read, hanging up the laundry - he couldn't stop hearing her soft voice saying those words.

Was she serious? Or was she just saying what she thought he wanted to hear? Likely not the latter - there was no way she knew what had been going on in his head the last few weeks. She'd have called him out on it by now, direct and no-nonsense as she was. So it had to have been a joke, or her attempt at one. Right?

But the look on her face… something told him she hadn't been entirely kidding, either.

He didn't want to push the subject. The moment had long-since passed. It would be weird if he brought it up now, if he showed his hand.

He sighed, and dropped the towel on the counter. He got ready for bed, because why the hell not? He wasn't going to have the energy to do much else. It was late. He could use the extra sleep.

By the time he was in his bedroom, the door wide open, Juliet had risen to follow his lead. He could hear her in the bathroom, getting ready for bed too.

James sat on the edge of his mattress, confused and a little annoyed with himself. Was this his opening? Could he… just ask her? But surely, that would be incredibly awkward. Hey, where ya plan on sleeping tonight, Juliet? You've only slept in your room every single night since we got here, but mind if i join ya? No. That didn't make a lick of sense. He could just see it now: she'd narrow her eyes at him, call him a perv, and shut the door in his face.

He was still scowling down into his lap at the notion when movement caught his eye. He glanced up on instinct, only to find Juliet standing in his doorway. She crossed her arms across her chest, clad in a t-shirt and shorts. She looked… apprehensive, at best, downright terrified at worst.

"Hi," she murmured.

He grinned up at her, trying to adjust the look on his face. "Hey."

She hovered there, rocking back on her heels, for a few more awkward seconds before asking, "How's Grapes of Wrath?"

James could feel the twitch in the corner of his mouth. He fucking hated small talk. It took everything in him not to frown. She'd had all night to talk to him, and they hadn't so much as traded even two words with one another since this morning. "It's alright. A little slow, but I just started, so…"

"Yeah."

"You? What was that, some mystery novel?"

Juliet nodded. "I like a good who-done-it every now and again. This one has a lot of characters though. Not sure today was a good day to start it."

"Still feelin' a little…?"

Juliet's mouth twitched. She looked down at the floor. "Mhm. I had more to drink than I realized, I guess."

"Maybe. That, and shit changes when you hit your thirties."

At this, Juliet let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. "Very true."

Another few heartbeats passed. James rubbed his hands across his thighs, pajama bottoms rough and scratchy under his hands from air-drying outside. "You, uh… Erm. There somethin' I can do for ya?"

Juliet's eyes flicked back up, and she cocked her head to the side as if she'd forgotten why she was hovering in his doorway. "Oh. Right. Um…" Her arms tightened, and James could see very clearly that she was not, in fact, wearing a bra. He swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

"My window's broken in my room, from that softball game the other day. Horace is supposed to send someone over either tomorrow or Monday to fix it, but in the meantime–" She stopped mid-sentence, chewing on her words, trying to find the ones that would sound the best. "It gets kind of cold in there at night."

"Oh." James wasn't sure what to say. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and his spine straightened.

"I know it's incredibly inconvenient, but you're the only other person with a bed big enough for two, and I was wondering if–"

"Sure," James answered, not even letting her finish. She blanched, looking surprised. She wasn't wrong; Jin and Miles shared a room with two twin beds. He and Juliet both had queens. Before Dan had left for Ann Arbor, he'd been on the couch.

"I can sleep on the couch, you don't have to–"

He did it again, interrupting her, while simultaneously cursing himself in his head. "It really ain't a big deal, Juliet."

She shifted her weight, taking stock of him. "Are you sure?"

James shrugged, feigning nonchalance. But inside, his heart was competing in the Kentucky Derby. It was, in fact, a very big deal. "We're friends," he confirmed, and Juliet grinned brightly in return. She looked pleased, like perhaps she hadn't known that before now. "'Sides, you're right. Bed's big enough for two."

He could use this opportunity to let old habits wiggle their way out from between his teeth. He could flirt, and tease, and jest about the stiff nipples peeking through the fabric of her shirt. He could call her out about wearing shorts if her room was so damn cold, and tell her to layer up like anyone else would.

But he didn't. Because he didn't give a damn what the reason was - she was here.

He hadn't been lying about last night. It was the best sleep he'd gotten yet, regardless of the wood floor. He wasn't sure why, exactly. Whether it was because she was warm and soft, slung over him like a sack of flour, like a weighted blanket keeping him grounded; or if it was because she made him feel less lonely, which chased away the dreams that had been plaguing him since they'd arrived here. Perhaps it was both. Perhaps it didn't matter.

(He wasn't sure when he stopped viewing her as his nemesis. He was certain if the old him got inside his head somehow, he'd be having a stroke and storming out into the living room in a fit of rage to sleep on the couch instead. That, or he'd tell her to fuck off and be cold – to match her frigid heart.)

He wasn't the same man as he once was. And she certainly didn't seem like the same woman she once was, either. (Or maybe she was, and his eyes had just opened finally, seeing her for who she'd truly been all along.)

James patted the bed next to him before sliding up to the top to lay on one side. Juliet looked apprehensive for all of five seconds before coming fully inside the room and shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She laid down beside him, trying to keep herself as contained as possible. Like there was an invisible box around her, keeping arms and legs inside its confines at all times.

When James reached over to his nightstand to tug on the lamp's switch, he chuckled, "I ain't gonna bite ya."

The room plunged into darkness. He faced away from her, trying to give her space. His heart was thudding too hard to relax, so he tried taking quiet, even breaths to slow it down. It had been so much easier to sleep beside her with alcohol in his system. He hadn't cared when she'd touched him then. (Or, maybe he'd cared too much. Maybe that was his problem.)

Minutes passed before Juliet shifted. She faced away from him too, but finally allowed herself to stretch out a bit more until she was more comfortable. "Goodnight, James," she whispered, followed by a soft, content sigh.

He smiled into the pillow. "Night, Juliet."

—-

The next morning, James awoke slowly. It felt like pulling himself out of a mud pit, or like he'd been swimming in warm, marshmallow fluff that smelled like vanilla and sunshine and something else sweet.

It took him a long time to realize why: Juliet's hair was fanned out on his pillow, and sometime in the night, he'd shoved his face through it like a plow cutting through fresh snow. His nose almost touched the back of her neck, and his half-conscious brain really couldn't help it when he took a long, deep whiff of her shampoo. Dharma-brand or not, it smelled divine.

It occurred to him then, after several long, languid minutes of processing his surroundings, to realize he was touching her elsewhere, too. One arm was flung casually across her waist, and his hips–

Oh fuck.

He drew his hips back sharply, mortification setting his blood on fire. "Shit," he whispered, and tried to extricate his arm.

Softly, like a light rainfall, Juliet giggled. "It's okay, James. It's biology. It's normal."

Ignoring her affirmation, he groaned, "Sorry."

Juliet rolled onto her back, and James's heart stuttered in his chest. She looked… so goddamn radiant, in the morning. How was that even possible? "I promise. It's really not a big deal." Echoing his words from the night before.

He tried to smile down at her, and she made it easy. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to contain a smile of her own. She looked bashful, perhaps a little playful. "I didn't mean to–you know. Grab ya like that," he said.

She shrugged. "I didn't mind, actually."

"You didn't?"

She shook her head. "No. Did you?"

He scoffed. "God, no." Jesus Christ, get it together, he thought bitterly. "I mean, uh, ya know - I think it just happens in my sleep sometimes. I'm a bit of a snuggler. Probably should'a warned you."

She rolled onto her side, facing him. If his hips weren't still tilted back, his dick would be shoved right into her stomach. "Maybe so. But I woke up just yesterday almost completely on you. So. Maybe I'm a snuggler too."

He swallowed, letting his eyes dip to her mouth. He couldn't help it. She was so close. "And you don't… mind that, then?"

Juliet brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling a yawn. "Nope," she said, and then let her eyes fall closed again. It would seem she wasn't quite ready to wake up. It was Sunday, their last day off. He rolled onto his back, looking at the clock on his nightstand. It was only 6:30.

Not wanting to risk poking her with his increasingly painful morning wood, James rolled onto his other side. He shifted, getting comfortable, and then – it happened.

Juliet pressed against him, spooning him from behind. He sucked in a sharp breath, which she must have felt because she tensed, asking quietly, "This okay?"

"Yeah," he choked out in response. "Yeah, you're fine."

Satisfied with his answer, Juliet snuggled back down into the blankets, her hand tentatively coming around his middle.

All of her was pressed against all of him, and James wondered if he'd somehow found heaven. If her softness, her scent, the lilt of her voice, was all somehow burrowing into his bones, killing him in the best possible way. If she was a witch, he'd certainly feel like he was under her spell.

Sleep found him not too long after Juliet's own breathing evened out, and James half-wished he'd never have to wake up.

—-

When at last James awoke for a second and final time, it was from movement in the bed. Juliet was shifting, trying to extricate herself from his back. He couldn't help but turn to watch her as she sat with her back facing him, feet planted on the floor. She yawned and stretched, raising her arms up to the ceiling.

Something caught his eye. A mark of some kind, reddish purple in color and raised, like a burn. And the shape… that was no birthmark.

"What's that?" he asked, before his brain could otherwise process the fact that it might be the absolute worst thing to say.

Juliet turned, eyes wide, and attempted to lower her shirt back down. But James's hands were already reaching out with abrupt, inappropriate curiosity. His fingertips grazed the raised flesh, and he got goosebumps at the feel of it on his skin.

Someone had done this to her. On purpose.

"It's nothing," Juliet murmured, and shifted her hips away. She stood, flashing him a sad smile, and tucked her loose hair behind her ears.

"Juliet–" James tried to argue, but she looked closed off, tight-lipped.

"I have to go shower. Thanks for letting me crash here last night, James." She opened the door and ducked out, as quietly as she'd come inside the night before. She shut the door behind her, leaving James with cotton in his head, his mouth, as he tried to process what the hell had just happened.

She couldn't get away from him fast enough.