a fic i wrote at work, trololo
Title: Promises
Author:
propernice
Rating: G (I'M SO VANILLA LATELY.)
Fandom: LOST
Pairing: Suliet
A/N: Another fic for
ciaimpala! For the prompt 'Domesticity' Um, only this time, I don't know what this is, really, and I don't have a beta, and this may be the most...okay I don't know. I'll let everyone else decide. It's just really random, and I realized other than a lot of smut after 'The End', I never wrote anything about later events. So. Here it is. Comments, please.
Juliet looks at James over a box marked 'old files' and has no idea why she's wound so tightly over this. But here he is, in her house, and she laughs softly to herself, pressing the heel of her hands against her eyes.
"What?" he asks, not moving from where he's been watching her right back.
"Nothing, I just...this is..." she pauses and looks at him again. "You remember when you moved in with me the first time?"
"Don't think we did a whole lot of unpackin' that night," he says with a little grin as he sidesteps the boxes to stand in front of her, hand resting on her hip.
"No, we didn't. But you know...I have a kid asleep upstairs." She looks up at him, holding his eyes, waiting for a hurt look that never comes. Surprised when it doesn't. "We haven't talked about that."
James doesn't move. "What? About you marryin' the Doc when you were pregnant?" He pulls away and runs a hand through his hair, looking at her over his shoulder before going to remove the tape from one of the boxes. "Ain't like we all knew each other, Blondie."
She has no idea where her dread is coming from, if James (of all people on the subject of Jack) is fine. It's just fast and sudden, and he was so mad at Jack before she died. Her eyes close, forehead creasing again at the memory that's suddenly so sharp she hurts again. Before she can shake herself out of it, James is there with his hands on her shoulders.
"I died," she says quietly.
"Guess I did, too."
"And instead of...wherever, we just lived lives again."
"And you had a kid. With Jack."
"Not on purpose," she clarifies, and they both laugh a little even as she glances up at the stairs to make sure David isn't eavesdropping. But the smile doesn't stay long as she looks back at James. "Is this real? Is it...is this really our lives now or does something happen next?"
He shrugs a shoulder, fingers playing with a piece of her hair. "No clue. I just know that none of the other stuff matters anymore."
He's taking everything so well, he's so calm, and she still feels like the other shoe is going to drop any second. She hates it.
"After everything, I just feel like we deserve to have this and for it to be right. And you're so damn relaxed that I feel like I'm missing out on something." She says it all in a rush of air and she can't look up at him.
His fingers move under her chin, and he strokes the curve of her jaw before his hand moves through her hair.
"We're gonna be okay, Blondie. You just gotta believe that. I ain't goin' anywhere. Neither are you. We're here. This is it."
When she looks up at him, his thumb brushes an errant tear off of her cheek.
"It'll be okay," she repeats, needing to believe that with every fiber of her being.
He told her once that he didn't like promising things, that the burden of breaking them was too heavy. But now, his lips brush over hers and his words make her relax for the first time in days.
"I promise."
Author:
properniceRating: G (I'M SO VANILLA LATELY.)
Fandom: LOST
Pairing: Suliet
A/N: Another fic for
ciaimpala! For the prompt 'Domesticity' Um, only this time, I don't know what this is, really, and I don't have a beta, and this may be the most...okay I don't know. I'll let everyone else decide. It's just really random, and I realized other than a lot of smut after 'The End', I never wrote anything about later events. So. Here it is. Comments, please.Juliet looks at James over a box marked 'old files' and has no idea why she's wound so tightly over this. But here he is, in her house, and she laughs softly to herself, pressing the heel of her hands against her eyes.
"What?" he asks, not moving from where he's been watching her right back.
"Nothing, I just...this is..." she pauses and looks at him again. "You remember when you moved in with me the first time?"
"Don't think we did a whole lot of unpackin' that night," he says with a little grin as he sidesteps the boxes to stand in front of her, hand resting on her hip.
"No, we didn't. But you know...I have a kid asleep upstairs." She looks up at him, holding his eyes, waiting for a hurt look that never comes. Surprised when it doesn't. "We haven't talked about that."
James doesn't move. "What? About you marryin' the Doc when you were pregnant?" He pulls away and runs a hand through his hair, looking at her over his shoulder before going to remove the tape from one of the boxes. "Ain't like we all knew each other, Blondie."
She has no idea where her dread is coming from, if James (of all people on the subject of Jack) is fine. It's just fast and sudden, and he was so mad at Jack before she died. Her eyes close, forehead creasing again at the memory that's suddenly so sharp she hurts again. Before she can shake herself out of it, James is there with his hands on her shoulders.
"I died," she says quietly.
"Guess I did, too."
"And instead of...wherever, we just lived lives again."
"And you had a kid. With Jack."
"Not on purpose," she clarifies, and they both laugh a little even as she glances up at the stairs to make sure David isn't eavesdropping. But the smile doesn't stay long as she looks back at James. "Is this real? Is it...is this really our lives now or does something happen next?"
He shrugs a shoulder, fingers playing with a piece of her hair. "No clue. I just know that none of the other stuff matters anymore."
He's taking everything so well, he's so calm, and she still feels like the other shoe is going to drop any second. She hates it.
"After everything, I just feel like we deserve to have this and for it to be right. And you're so damn relaxed that I feel like I'm missing out on something." She says it all in a rush of air and she can't look up at him.
His fingers move under her chin, and he strokes the curve of her jaw before his hand moves through her hair.
"We're gonna be okay, Blondie. You just gotta believe that. I ain't goin' anywhere. Neither are you. We're here. This is it."
When she looks up at him, his thumb brushes an errant tear off of her cheek.
"It'll be okay," she repeats, needing to believe that with every fiber of her being.
He told her once that he didn't like promising things, that the burden of breaking them was too heavy. But now, his lips brush over hers and his words make her relax for the first time in days.
"I promise."
