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The Dharmaville Christmas potluck just started a half hour ago, but it's already in full swing. The cafeteria is decorated for the holidays, garlands and twinkling lights hanging along every wall, ribbons and wreaths adorning each doorway, and a big fake tree glittering with tinsel and ornaments in the center of the large room.
It's nice, but he can hardly appreciate the work put in to make his, and all of the other new recruits', first Dharma Christmas special. He's been checking the door every few minutes, waiting.
"She'll be here, man," Miles grumbles under his breath.
James's attention snaps back to Miles, dishing a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate as he shakes his head.
"Excuse me?"
Miles doesn't bother looking up. "You've been watching the door since the moment we got here. Juliet will be here any minute. Chill out."
"What're you talking about?" James huffs, stealing the serving spoon from Miles's grasp and aggressively scooping a serving of potatoes onto his plate.
Miles rolls his eyes. "Right."
"You know what? Shut up," James mutters, skirting around Miles to fill his plate with whatever is at the next table.
He can't concentrate, even as he slops more food onto his plate. He wants to know what Juliet's bringing to the potluck (she teased that he would like it, but refused to tell him what it was), wants to see her face when they do the Secret Santa gift exchange later in the evening (he didn't bully Pete at the motor pool to switch names with him for nothing), he just wants to see her, period.
Only because he feels more settled at events like these when she's around. That's all.
They have an unspoken pact - he has her back, she has his, and that holds true even in the relative safety of their new Dharmaville lifestyle. Sure, he trusts Jin and Miles, knows they can get him out of a bind if he needs, but Juliet... she helps him in a way no one else really has before. Something about having her around calms him, makes everything go still and quiet when the world around them feels out of control.
Sometimes he doesn't know what he would have done if she hadn't stayed.
The cafeteria doors open and he can't help the jerk of his gaze to the entrance, the warmth immediately spreading through his chest at the sight of her, carrying in a large pot.
James drops his plate to stride in her direction, reaching to relieve her of the pot nearly as tall and wide as her torso.
Her eyes brighten with a smile as she looks up, startlingly more blue than he thinks he's ever seen them. It's the bright red of the sweater she's wearing, he realizes. He's never seen her in red before - hell, he's never seen her in a sweater until now.
He never knew he was a fan of a turtleneck, but the way this one clings to her frame a little too perfectly leaves him pretty damn speechless.
"Looking festive, Blondie."
Juliet smirks, but he swears he catches a hint of pink rising to her cheeks.
"Thank you, James. Not so bad yourself," she murmurs, reaching forward to tap the piece of holly pinned to his tan jumpsuit.
He grins back at her. "Told you I could get into the holiday spirit."
"Uh huh," she chuckles and nods to the pot. "Would you mind putting that on one of the tables? I dropped my Secret Santa gift on the way in."
"'Course. But what is this?" he asks, unable to peer inside the pot without removing the lid, but he can smell the rich scent of apple cider, holiday spices, something fruity.
"Special drink. You'll like it," she assures him, already shoving the doors open with one shoulder.
"How would you know what I like?"
Juliet shoots him a sly grin that has his stomach dropping before she disappears outside. Exhaling quietly, he carries the pot to one of the many cafeteria tables loaded with savory dishes and all kinds of desserts. Miles is watching him from their table, smug as he chews on a forkful of roast beef.
James flips him off and starts making Juliet a plate.
They sit together in their usual quartet for dinner, Juliet squeezed in close against him on the cafeteria bench. The air conditioner is blasting to imitate the winter season, so she's likely just cold. Regardless, he ain't complaining.
But she stays by his side when the gift exchange begins, arm brushing his anytime she moves.
"Do you know who got you?" she asks, her expression alight as they watch their neighbors and coworkers, this new community they've become deeply a part of in just a few months, seeking out their gifts and giftees.
He shrugs. "No idea. You?"
"I had a feeling it was one of the guys at the motor pool," she muses. "But isn't looking that way."
"Were you hoping for it to be one of the guys from the motor pool?"
Juliet cuts her eyes to him. "No. Just my best guess."
He hums, but he can feel her watching him with skepticism knitting her brow.
"Why are you being weird?"
James glances back at her innocently. "I'm not."
"Uh huh. I'm gonna go get a drink. Go find your gift," she instructs.
"How about you get us both a drink and meet me outside? I got something for you," he volleys back, earning a reluctant nod as she starts towards the cluster of foods and beverages.
The moment her back is turned, he slips an arm beneath the bench where they were seated, swiping the present from beneath and tucking it under his arm. He escapes out the back door, rounding the building until he can rest his back against an outer wall without an entrance, the side that looks out onto the schoolyard and its playground.
He only has to wait a handful of minutes for Juliet to round the corner, two blue cups with a white snowflake pattern in her hands.
"Your Secret Santa is searching high and low for you, LaFleur," she teases, striding towards him with a smirk.
"Oh yeah?" He accepts the cup she holds out to him, steam rising from the surface of amber liquid inside. "Who's the lucky winner?"
"Darby," she murmurs, leaning her back against the brick wall beside him. She glances over at his lack of response. "Red hair? Teaches third grade?"
"Oh!" He snaps his fingers with recognition as the woman's face flickers across his mind. "Right."
"You haven't noticed her eyeing you all evening?" Juliet inquires, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a long sip.
James arches an eyebrow as he watches her, noticing the slight pinch to the corners of her eyes, the sardonic twitch of her lips.
"Really haven't noticed much this evening, I guess," he murmurs, waiting for her to look up, look at him.
Something softens in her features, tenderness settling in her eyes, as if she knows exactly what he means. He kinda hopes she does.
"What about your Secret Santa?" he asks, repressing his own smirk at the question.
Juliet shakes her head and shrugs. "Couldn't find anything with my name on it."
"Damn, Blondie. Santa stood you up?"
She rolls her eyes and tilts her chin to the drink in his hands. "Try your wassail."
"My what?"
"Your drink," she chuckles. "It's just apple cider, some orange juice, cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon. Other spices."
He makes a show of raising the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip of the warm beverage, savoring the burst of flavors across his tongue, the soothing heat of it slipping down his throat.
"Mm, you're right," he sighs out. "You do know what I like."
That earns him a self-satisfied little grin, a settling of her slim shoulder against his. Always touching him these days, the heat of her body seeping pleasantly into his.
"You said you have something for me?" she asks, quirking her brow at him.
"Yeah, yeah, I do," he murmurs, leaning sideways to exchange the cup in his hand with the gift he had hidden on his opposite side. He straightens with the green and red striped box in his grasp, the stupid red bow on top that he couldn't help adding. "Merry Christmas, Blondie."
A pleased smile spreads across her lips, much to his relief. "You're my Secret Santa?"
"Surprise," he chuckles, holding out his gift to her.
"James," she grins, bending to set down her cup and accept the meticulously wrapped present. He can't remember the last time he even touched wrapping paper, and it took him a few times to figure it out, to get the paper smooth, but it looks pretty damn good. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"Felt weird giving it to you in there." He shrugs, heart thudding obnoxiously as she unwraps the box with gentle fingers. "With an audience."
The curve of her lips remains in place as she opens the box, digging through the tissue paper inside with one hand until she can retrieve the gift beneath it all.
Juliet lets the box drop at their feet as she examines the coffee mug in her hands. James tries not to watch while she turns it over in her palms, fingertips tracing over the ceramic, the carvings of the pattern.
He made the thing himself, requesting materials from the mainland for four weeks straight back in October, before he even knew he would have to fight to be her only gift-giver. He ain't the crafty type, knows it's nothing she probably would have picked for herself, but he got the idea from a conversation they had one night on her front porch. They had spent the evening reading together in her living room, partaking in their self-made, two-person book club.
Something in the book had struck her, made her think of home, and they ended up sitting on her porch instead, reminiscing for the rest of the evening.
"I just miss the stupid things sometimes," she had said, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him on the top porch step.
James glanced away from the empty sidewalks to study her in the dark. "Like what?"
"I don't know... my coffee cup collection," she answered with a soft little laugh. "See? Stupid."
"Ain't stupid," he huffed, even though just three months ago, before they ended up spiraling through time, even for a little while after, he probably would have bullied her mercilessly for it.
"Once we were old enough to have our own traditions, Rachel and I used to go to a pottery place, make our own mugs every Christmas." A reminiscent smile flickered across her lips. "Neither one of us was very good at it. But I'd give her mine, she'd give me hers..."
Her sentence trailed off and she wrapped her arms around herself.
"Ain't stupid to want comfort," he murmured, bumping her shoulder. "Just human, Blondie. You're one of those, remember?"
She rolled her eyes at him, but the corner of her mouth quirked with something closer to one of those real smiles he'd been seeing more of lately.
"You uh, you told me once you missed your coffee cups," he explains, beads of sweat accumulating on the back of his neck. She's just been standing there, turning the mug over in her hands, studying every inch of it. Goddammit, this was a stupid idea. "I know it ain't the same, but I-"
Juliet cradles the mug to her chest with one hand and reaches for him with the other, wrapping her arm around his neck. He hesitates for only a moment before returning her embrace, gathering her up snug against him.
"It's perfect," she murmurs, turning her face into his neck, the cool skin of her forehead glimpsing his jaw.
He didn't realize she would fit so well there.
When she pulls back, her eyes are glittering, sparkling blue waves staring back at him.
"You made it?" she asks, lowering her gaze back to the misshapen mug in her hand, stroking her thumb along the rim.
"Yeah, hence the lack of craftsmanship."
Her head shakes adamantly. "No, I love it. Next year, we should do this kind of thing together. Build some traditions of our own."
His chest tightens while his stomach flutters - all these weird bodily sensations he doesn't think he's ever really felt before. He's never had to, never had to really hope and wonder and wish a girl liked him. But Juliet? He can't read her most times, can't predict what she might say or do.
He definitely didn't predict that she would be talking about their next Christmas together, about traditions, and looking so damn happy about it.
"I feel terrible I didn't get you anything," she says softly, her smile turning rueful.
"You stayed," he replies without thinking, earning the flash of her eyes up to his. "That night, all those months ago on the dock... Gift enough."
Juliet blinks and he feels the panic like ice melting down his spine.
Too much. Way too much to be saying out loud.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"James-"
"I just meant that-"
"Hey," she calls, free hand at his chest, scaling along his collarbone to brush the bare skin of his throat, his rioting pulse.
He swallows hard, lets her feel his flesh ripple beneath her fingers, and meets the soothing blue of her gaze.
"Kiss me," she whispers, her lashes fluttering from his eyes to his mouth, the swell of her chest brushing along his as she leans in.
He doesn't hesitate, his chin already tilting, his lips already fitting easily along hers. Everything goes quiet in his mind - nothing existing except the soft pressure of her mouth on his, the scent of vanilla from her hair, the warmth of her hand sliding along his cheek.
The mug presses hard against his sternum as Juliet presses closer, lips parting beneath his, the sweet taste of spices and cider on her tongue.
Her hand slips into his hair, twining through strands while both of his frame her waist, strum her ribs. They break apart for breath, but she keeps close, forehead grazing his, lips still brushing when he speaks.
"Thought I'd at least need some mistletoe for that," he breathes, nose nuzzling her cheek.
She hums and kisses him chastely, her smile spreading onto his lips. "No, didn't even need the mug."
"That so?" he huffs, worrying the hem of her red sweater beneath his fingertips.
Juliet nods and whispers a kiss to his upper lip. "But I still love it."
Pride tries to calm the race of his heart, the happy flutter of disbelief through his chest, but he lets it be, lets all those rampant sensations for her run wild.
Her fingers return to stroke along his jaw, reverently grazing his flesh like she had the mug in her other hand.
"Don't you want to know what your Secret Santa got you?"
He scoffs and lifts one of his hands to her cheek, scaling his thumb along the striking bone there before brushing his fingers through her hair, cradling her nape in his palm.
"Got all I wanted," he murmurs, earning the score of her teeth to her bottom lip, smothering the shy smile blooming there.
Her hand lowers to his side, blindly searching until her fingers collide with his. "Let's go home."
"Hey, I wanted more of that drink you made," he grumbles, teases, because he'd rather be dehydrated than miss out on whatever she has in mind.
Juliet smirks up at him as she begins walking backwards. "I'll make you some more in the morning."