Tailor Made

I'll be true, I'll be useful...
I'll be cavalier...I'll be yours my dear.
And I'll belong to you...
If you'll just let me through.
This is easy as lovers go,
So don't complicate it by hesitating.
And this is wonderful as loving goes,
This is tailor-made, whats the sense in waiting?


The skateboard wheels creak as she rolls a little further underneath the greasy underside of the van. She reaches towards the blue toolbox at her side, fingers straining to find a new wrench without pausing in her work. It's smelly and filthy down there, but he the work numbs her, allows her to forget the madness through which they arrived here.

He nudges it closer to her with his foot from where he sits, slouched against the wall on the grainy bench. He's grilling her one final time, to ensure everyone knows what to reply with should Horace or another ask any awkward questions.

"And if someone mentions the-,"


There's a loud clanging noise and a sudden new vile fragrance. He watches as she swears and scrambles out from beneath the vehicle, face red and smeared with oil and the utmost top hairs on her head singed. Her eyes are narrowed, in frustration with herself and the powers that brought her to this place.

She continues to seethe and go about this business, forgetting James had meant to say anything. He has, too. He finds himself preoccupied... staring.

I think you're beautiful when you're angry.



It's nearing Christmas, but the weather is balmy as ever. There's something in Juliet that, after all this time, still yearns for log fires and cocoa under the tree.

They're reading in the living room- beside each other, yes, yet not quite together. She feels his soft pressure lift from the other side of the couch, and she glances up from Carrie to see he's dog-earing his page.

"You need the jacks for anythin' before I shower?"

Her answering smile is the tiniest of smirks. "No, go ahead." He watches her a moment more, but she's opened her novel again and is thoroughly engrossed.

She listens to the bathroom door click shut, the rustle of clothing and the familiar whoosh of material dropping down the laundry chute into the basement. There's a gurgle and then the shower water whirs.

Juliet smiles and takes a sip of coffee, anticipation bubbling slyly in her stomach as she eyes the bathroom door.

I've stolen all the towels from the bathroom.



She hates not making things from scratch.

Casserole, cake, muffins, roast beef, the works. If he ever suggests simply finding a box of ready-made, she becomes mortally offended.

So he does sometimes, just for fun. He loves teasing her, because she tolerates it, in the way that a colorblind person stares into a kaleidoscope. When you can appreciate the overall beauty of something, you ignore the little glitches.

She has flour in her hair, already attacking pie batter with a vengeance. She's just done eating dinner, and he's not quite. He's a tad quiet this evening, which is unusual, and staring at the last scraps of meatloaf with an odd glazed look.

"Hey," she pips up, dusting off her apron. "You okay?"

He looks up as though he had all but forgotten her presence. He runs a had though his hair and his lips quirk up the slightest bit.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

You make meatloaf just like my mama did.



"What's wrong, Juliet? You don't wanna share your toys?"

She holds strong, gripping both guns tightly. "Just stay here. Jeanette's going crazy- go to her. She needs someone to tell her Charlotte's gonna be okay." She holds one gun- his gun- behind her back firmly.

"It ain't the first time Mini-Red's wandered off. No, listen. Einstein's already led a troupe out to look. She'll be back before sundown."

"The let's hope we find her before the bears do, James. Move." She jabs him with the butt of a gun, almost playfully, and he glares at her before he steps away from the door.

James gives a small frown. She touches his arm, her expression hard yet warm. "Just stay here."

"Hostiles. The... that thing. Bears. You don't know what could-,"

He's interrupted by her lips brushing his, and she ignores his protests and shoulders both weapons, slamming the door behind her to join the next search party assembling at the tree line. She'll be fine- for him.

I'll do anything but put you in danger, James.



The chains are tight around her legs, but it surprises her somehow. Her heart feels as though it's being compressed, as though it, instead, was caught.

There's one thing she could say, to make this all so much easier for him- for her. For the pair of them.

She slips, and loses another inch.

They're fumbling, both begging, and still she wonders is she can bring herself to say it.

But- no. No. Never. She won't. She has just enough time to mumble a few words she hopes he already knows. Words she really does mean.

James can only say no. He wants to say something more, something worse, because maybe if he doesn't care about her, fate won't spite him by taking her away from him.

I don't love you.

I don't love you either.

A/N: Lyrics taken from As Lovers Go by Dashboard Confessional, the perfect Suliet song in my opinion. My first Suliet fic, whoop! Review if you get the chance. =]