Day One: Conversation Hearts
A/N: This is a series of shorts for eponine119's tumblr Valentine's Day challenge, where each day is a different theme! I hope you enjoy :D
The lights were off in Juliet's hospital room, with the exception of one dim lamp in the corner, when James returned from the gift shop. It smelled strongly of antiseptic and baby powder, and his nose always wrinkled when he walked inside for the first time. He wondered if she'd gotten used to it in the last few hours they'd been here, or if it had never even bothered her in the first place. He was sure it was the latter. She'd had bigger things to focus on, hadn't she?
He watched her from the doorway and swallowed hard. Yes, he was nervous. Of course he was fucking nervous. It was why he was focusing on literally anything else, instead of the woman curled on her side in the bed, covered in loose, cream-colored blankets, or the small bundle in the plastic bassinet beside her bed. He almost felt like an outsider walking in on them sleeping like this. They'd both worked so hard to get here, to earn this peace, and what had he done? Fucking nothing in comparison, that's what.
His eyes wandered around the room. It was filled with heart-shaped balloons and stuffed animals, neither of which were all that helpful at this point in time. But the pops of red and pink for Valentine's Day were better than the creams, whites, and greys of the rest of the room. A bouquet of red roses from Kate and Claire sat atop a counter to the right of Juliet's bed, and it made James cringe a little in annoyance. Red roses were the thing you got your girlfriend, not the thing your girlfriend got from her friends. Baby or no baby, they should have come from him. (He hadn't even thought to buy them.)
Sniffing, a little miffed, James entered the room fully. He snuck around the left of Juliet's bed and peered down at the sleeping pair. His girlfriend and brand-new son looked so much alike it felt uncanny. He knew how genetics worked, but shouldn't he see at least some of himself in the little boy's face? (Though, he couldn't deny how relieved he was that so far, Logan was all Juliet. Hopefully he stayed that way.)
He was squirmy in that way newborn babies apparently were, even in sleep. Juliet's hand was outstretched, fingers just barely grazing his tiny arm tucked into the blanket.
He wanted to touch her. Touch them both. Remind himself that they were real, and so was he, and they were here . But he didn't have the heart to wake her.
It hadn't been until they'd officially signed their son's birth certificate that he even realized the date. It was Valentine's Day, and she'd spent all day screaming as she was torn apart. And as the gifts had rolled in, he also realized that not one of them had come from him. The father . She'd done this for them , and he hadn't gotten her jack-shit. He didn't even have anything waiting for her at home. Preparing for the baby's arrival had torn his mind free from the confines of dates and deadlines, of shoulds and shouldn'ts, and he hadn't even noticed. (It made him wonder what else would just pass him by, down the road.)
He'd made it to the gift shop ten minutes before closing. Juliet had been speaking with the night nurse, and he'd been able to excuse himself without her asking questions. He'd convinced the store clerk to stay open late, so he could figure out what he wanted to buy her, but nothing really jumped out at him. It wasn't until the elderly lady started almost physically pushing him out of the store that he noticed the little heart-shaped box on the shelf. It was the last one left - so clearly, other guys had had a similar idea.
But that didn't matter. Because these were significant.
He snatched up the box, paid, and left to hurry back up to Juliet's room. But he hadn't gone inside right away. Instead, he'd found himself backtracking, circling the hospital, wandering aimlessly as he tried to decide what to say when he gave them to her.
His vision snagged on the palm trees outside, outlined in moonlight, and he went back there. To the island.
He'd given her conversation hearts on their first Valentine's Day in Dharmaville. They weren't a couple yet. But he'd wanted to be. She'd thought the hearts were a joke, still convinced he hated her. But they hadn't been. They'd been an embodiment of all the things he wanted to say but couldn't. Kiss me. Hug me. Be mine.
And now, when they were the furthest from the island they'd ever been, he'd be giving them to her again. What if it brought her back there, and she didn't want to go? What if they reminded her of a difficult time and she couldn't see them the way he wanted her to? He wanted her face to light up - for her to remember - and for it to make her happy to see how far they'd come. He wanted to give her something that was just for her, to show that she was his and he was hers, outside of everything they'd done to bring Logan into the world. He wanted to come full circle, which is why he'd grabbed them.
Instead of Be mine, he could say I'm yours. He could hand her the ones he really wanted her to have first: Best day, Forever, I love you. Maybe she wouldn't be disappointed in him forgetting the date and coming up short. Maybe this could be enough, to remind her how much he loved them both.
Juliet stirred in her sleep, one eye cracking open to peer up at him. He put the box on her rolling table, shifting it out of her sight.
"Hey," she whispered, and a bright smile lit up her face.
"Hey yourself," he whispered back, unable to stop his own from growing inch by inch until it hurt. She was so, so beautiful.
Juliet shifted, scooting closer to Logan. She wiggled her backside and closed her eyes again, silently telling him what she wanted him to do.
He chuckled and kicked off his shoes before climbing into bed behind her. It was a tight fit, but that never stopped them before. They'd slept like this in worse places - the jungle floor, a cave, the beach. She sighed once he was fully pressed against her, and his arm was draped over hers. From this angle, his fingertips brushed Logan's thigh.
He knew Juliet like he knew his own soul. She loved him fiercely, and he was suddenly very certain that the gift would be well-received come the next morning. He'd been a fool to think otherwise. It would never compare to the gift she'd just given him, but that was okay. He would make it up to her every day for the rest of their lives.