The title is a reference to Hate Poem by Julie Sheehan. This shameless fluffy porny goodness was tangentially inspired by the poem too until it took a direction all its own.
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James walks towards the house he shares with Juliet in what he still thinks of as "New Otherton," whistling and carrying a bottle of Dharma Initiative wine in one hand and his beige security coveralls in the other. He can't wait to tell Juliet about his promotion after just two months working Dharma security. He imagines the look on her face when he tells her. He knows that her blue eyes will widen in response, but not out of surprise. Juliet knows him; she has read his file and then lived with him for the past months. Even though she knows all the awful things that he has done in his life, she still has faith in him. He feels like a child running home to show his parents a high test grade; he can't wait to feel Juliet's pride wash over him like a drug, their minor squabble from the night before forgotten as they prepare dinner together.
Jin rushes up to him as he nears the porch. James appraises the shocked look on Jin's face, and says with a smirk, "So you heard about my big promotion. Two seventy-five an hour, man, I think I'll invest my high wages in the stock market. Don't tell Horace that I won't be investing in Dharma though. You and Miles comin' over for dinner to celebrate with me and Jules?"
Jin takes a moment to comprehend James' utterance. His English has improved dramatically over the past few months under Juliet's tutelage. He shakes his head after a minute during which James waits patiently and then slowly answers, "No, Jim. Juliet leaves the island tonight on the boat."
James staggers backward; the submarine is set to leave in just over an hour. It was supposed to be empty except for supplies. He grabs Jin's shoulder roughly, nearly shaking the shorter man as he asks, "Is she on the sub already?"
Jin nods and asks, "You did not know this?" But James has already turned away from Jin to rush to the docks.
As James reaches the docks, he thinks about this very submarine blowing up at the hands of Locke a few months ago. Or thirty years from now. He tries not to think about all the intricacies of time travel as he approaches the sub. Bending down, he grunts as he lifts the sub door and begins to descend the ladder. Before he even reaches the bottom, he hears a familiar sigh.
"James. How did you get down here?"
He turns to look at Juliet. Smirking, he responds, "As much as the ol' D.I. worries about hostiles, their security ain't so good. I just climbed on down."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm taking you back to the barracks," He says as he grabs her nearly-empty Dharma issued duffel bag. "You ain't leaving this island alone, and certainly not because we had a stupid fight."
She pulls back on the duffel strap, and James nearly loses his footing. He almost forgot how damn strong Juliet is.
She glowers at him, her icy blue eyes piercing. He curses himself internally for breaking the shared gaze first as he looks down at his feet.
"Don't flatter yourself, James. I'm not leaving because of you."
He raises his eyes to her face. "Then why are you leaving?"
Juliet's cheeks flush, whether in anger or embarrassment, James doesn't know. She pulls on the bag again, but James is prepared, and he allows his body to go with it this time. He stands just inches from her when she lifts her head. Her eyes are like icicles as she responds, "You got your two weeks. You got two months."
James sighs, and releases the bag's strap, gesturing towards the ocean and whatever lay beyond. "Blondie, there ain't nothing back there for you."
Her eyes flash dangerously. "There's nothing here for me either!" she yells.
He glares at her. Her cheeks are bright pink, her eyes narrowed as she glares back at him. Her chest heaves as if she had just run a race.
God, she's so beautiful when she's angry.
She spins on her heels and the bag swings with her. James snaps out of his thoughts, and grabs her upper arm. Her protest of "James, let go" is cut short as he pulls her to him and crushes his lips down upon hers.
He has a moment to think, "thank God she doesn't have a stun gun right now" before Juliet returns the kiss in earnest. Her fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, where she caresses the sensitive spot at the back of his head. He grunts and grasps her waist, pulling her body against his. His fingers meander to her lower back, slipping just below the waistband of her jeans. He feels the raised Braille bumps of the scar where she was marked by Ben and his others. He feels the sudden urge to apologize; when she told him that she was marked after helping him escape, he couldn't look her in the eyes for days. He wants her to know how much that means to him, that she helped him at her own expense. He pulls away to speak, but maybe Juliet sees his mouth open, for she cups his half-hard erection through his jeans, and he is temporarily robbed of the ability to speak. Her nimble doctor's fingers undo the buttons on his jeans, then pull his white t-shirt over his head. In contrast, his hands shake as he slides his hands up her sides to lift her shirt above her head, then to undo the clasp of her bra.
When he finally unclasps the bra, it falls to the floor. Her nipples harden into taut little peaks as the cool air hits her breasts. He pulls his gaze away from her breasts to her face. She isn't blushing as she looks him straight in the eye; she is confident, not shy with her own nudity, and this excites him even further. He bends his head to take one nipple between his lips and he teases the other with his rough fingers. She gasps and digs her fingernails into his shoulders.
He stands and lifts Juliet in one swift motion, her ready legs wrapping around his waist. He takes in their surroundings for the first time since he descended into the sub and realizes what few bed-like options they have at their disposal. He begins to speak.
"The floor's fine, James. Please, just…I want you." She shimmies her hips against his erection to emphasize her point, then stands as he spreads their shirts on the floor in a makeshift bedding arrangement. Juliet lies down and James kneels between her legs. She lifts her hips helpfully as he slides her jeans and then her panties off. He contemplates running his tongue up her wet folds, making her beg for him. But his erection throbs against his boxers in protest. He wants her too badly to wait, and his body reminds him painfully of this fact.
He pulls his boxers down his hips, not even bothering to take them all the way off. The waistband catches on his erection as he does so, and he bites his lip to keep from groaning. He leans over Juliet and lifts her hips off the floor. She reaches down, her warm hand guiding him inside. He slides up to the hilt inside her, and then pulls back out again.
They establish a steady rhythm, her hips rising up to meet his as he thrusts. He kisses her breasts, her neck, and the corner of her mouth and she wraps her long legs around his hips. When his thrusts start to become erratic and he thinks he can't hold out for much longer, he feels her muscles spasm around him and she cries out twice, "James, James!" and he comes.
When he slides out of her body, he lies on his side and wraps his arms around her as he catches his breath. He feels her heart fluttering fast beneath her breast. She turns in his arms to look into his eyes. Her cheeks and chest are flushed red. As Juliet gazes at him, James realizes that her eyes are not icicles, cold and disconcerting. Her eyes are as wide and open as the whole bright blue sky. He wants to tell her about his revelation, but he thinks how false it would sound, so instead he kisses her.
When he pulls away to breathe, she speaks.
"I'm not one of your cons, James."
"I know." And he only knows that this is true when he says it. Two months with Juliet, playing house as Jim LaFleur, has made him feel like he is genuinely living his life for the first time in years.
As he lies on the submarine floor, he doesn't think about his parents, whose marriage is on the verge of collapse in Jasper, Alabama. He doesn't think about the little boy who will hide beneath the bed, trembling as the pool of his father's blood creeps its way across the hardwood floor. He doesn't think of Locke's promise to return either.
Instead, he thinks about Juliet, writhing beneath him, his name a chant as she spasms around him. He thinks that whatever happens, whether he leaves this godforsaken island or not, he wants her to be by his side.
"You're not one of my cons, Blondie. If you're leaving this island, then I'm going with you."
She turns away, her warm body curled into his on the cool submarine floor. "I'm not leaving," she whispers. "You're right, there is nothing for me out there."
James lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. The unspoken words lie between them: "There is something for me here." He kisses the side of her neck, delighting in the goose bumps that appear on her lean arms at the action. He whispers, "We should get dressed and get back up top or we're going to end up in Portland whether we want to or not."
Juliet's easy laughter rings like bells in his ears as he reaches for the boxers bunched around his ankles, and James can't help but laugh with her.