A/N: Three years later and the last thing I expected to be doing was completing this story. But, I was back on fanfiction and I only had one chapter left of this story, so here we are! I've missed this fandom and this couple so much, and writing them again was so much fun. If anyone is still reading this, I hope you enjoy!

He's got three jumpsuits, his walkie, a box of a Dharma Oats and a six-pack in his duffle bag, and that's about all he owns right there. He piles his small collection of non-work clothes—what he wore during the flashes and some seventies getup Horace hooked him up with their first week— on the bed to fold. The only things left after that are the few books he flirted the librarian into letting him keep. He places them in the bag one by one, but stops at East of Eden. Before everything went to hell, he was trying to convince Juliet to read it. It was the night they bonded over Vonnegut and Mary Shelly but fought over King. He never would have pegged her as a King fanatic, but she defended Carrie more passionately than he's ever seen her.

"Hey, I ain't got nothing against the man, Sweetheart," he'd said. "I respect him. Just not my preferred genre is all."

"Alright, I suppose I can tolerate that," she smiled. "So what about you?"

"Oh, Of Mice and Men, easy," he answered.

"Really? Hmm. I read it in middle school. To be honest, I mostly just remember being bored the whole time."

He put his hand against his chest and threw his head back, groaning dramatically. "You're breaking my heart, Blondie."

She laughed, and even then he was aware of how much he loved the sound of it.

"You gotta read it again. I promise, it'll mean more now that you're older."

"I don't know, you might be asking too much."

"Have you read any other Steinbeck?"

She shook her head and he groaned again.

"Nope," he said. "No roommate of mine is going to have not even read Steinbeck in the last, what, twenty years? Nope, you' don't have to like it, but you've got to at least read it and appreciate the art. Here," he said, getting up to rummage through his backpack. "You're in luck, stole this gem from the library just last week."

She promised she'd give East of Eden a shot when she finished whatever weird seventies sci-fi novel she was on, and he was sure she was taking her sweet time getting to the end of it.

He almost wants to laugh as he tosses the book back on the nightstand. That was only a few weeks ago. He takes a breath, lets it out. How the hell did they get here?

He'll leave the book on the coffee table, he decides. A nice little reminder of him she can come home to. It's petty, sure, but he figures she deserves it.

He's folding a pair of boxers, lamely fantasizing about how this all could have gone differently, when her voice makes him jump.

"Hey."

He spins around and there she is, expressionless, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe as if she may have been there, watching him, for minutes.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, turning back to put the boxers in his bag. "I told Jin to tell you I was here." Petty, again, but he can't help himself.

"He did."

He stops, sighs. He's so tired of the games. "Then why are you here, Juliet?"

She's glad he's not looking at her, because she isn't quite able to hide how much that question, his tone, his use of her full name, all stings.

She composes herself quickly, though. "You think I want you to move out," she says

He does look at her then, tries to uncover the emotion behind her emotionless voice. What, is she proud of him for figuring it out?

"Well, yeah. I mean, you kinda started acting like you wanted nothing to do with me right after we got the offer." She's still just staring at him with those eyes and he thinks he could scream but, no, he's going to keep his cool this time. He's going to have a conversation. He's going to get an answer. "I don't understand why you didn't just tell me. I know we were joking around about not lying to each other, and, sure, I would've given you a bit of a hard time about it. But I would have understood. I wouldn't have held it against ya, I would have—"

"James," she cuts him off. "James, I didn't want you to move out. "I don't…" she stops, runs a hand through her hair, and finally, finally, there's something reaching the surface of those blue, blue eyes. He still can't quite place what, but it's there. She starts again. "That's not why I was shutting you out."

He hates that this is his first reaction, but he can feel his pulse quicken and he thinks, thank God. It's only after that that he thinks to ask the rational followup question.

"Well then, would you mind clueing me in?"

"It's because I..I…" she stops again. He waits for her to continue, but she doesn't, and his heart sinks. Stupid. He shakes his head.

"Forget it," he says quietly, turning away from her again. He doesn't bother folding the last of his boxers as he puts them in the duffle and zips it shut. "You know, it's for the best," he says. He doesn't have to continue, but he does. Because, despite it all, she's still the person he wants to be honest with. Despite her screwing with him these past two weeks, she gave him her friendship at the beginning when he sure as hell didn't deserve it, when he had nothing else. She stayed for him when she wanted nothing more than to leave, and he owes her the truth for that.

If he's losing her regardless, he at least wants it out there.

"This whole living arrangement," he says, "it wouldn't have lasted anyway. I guess there's just something about a woman treating me like shit, but at some point during these last few weeks, I realized that whole thing about there being no sexual tension with us? Not really true for me. And it's not just that. It would be a hell of a lot easier to move past if it was. But, us not talking the way we used to, well, it messed with me a hell of a lot more than I ever woulda thought it could. It drove me fucking crazy. That, plus the fact that every damn time I look at you, I just…even if you didn't want me out, we probably woulda ended up here eventually. Cause I can't live here feeling like this, knowing that it wouldn't, that I couldn't, that you…I just." He takes a breath. "I don't think I can just pretend everything's the same. I don't know how we'd go back to how it was before." He's rambling now. Jesus, he never used to ramble with women. "I guess this friendship was pretty doomed from the start, huh Blondie?"

He looks at her, but she's just staring at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and God how did he ever think they could last without any sexual tension. How was there ever a point when he could look at her and feel anything but the tension? He tries to get the thought out of his head. He needs her to respond but she doesn't. And he shouldn't have said anything. It won't matter now that he's moving, that they'll have the space they need to cool down. It won't matter. They won't be able to ignore what he just admitted to her. It'll never not be weird with them now. And he isn't quite sure how he'll survive being in the seventies, being a core member of the Dharma Initiative, being Jim LaFleur, without her having his back.

He reaches down for his bag but feels her hand on his arm, a gentle pressure urging him to face her. He does, but before he can even begin to process the motive behind the contact, her lips are on his. Her hand makes its way into his hair, the other clawing at the skin above the collar of his shirt. She deepens the kiss, her movements frantic but sure. He lets go of the bag and wraps his arms around her, his body reacting while his thoughts still spin. He moves a hand to her cheek. She bites his bottom lip and a moan escapes his throat. He pulls her closer.

When she pulls away, her breathing is ragged. "That, James, is why I was shutting you out. Because as soon as you told me there was no sexual tension, doing this was all I could think about ever damn time I saw you. And I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

He can't help but laugh. Every place she touched was still tingling, screaming for more. Her forehead was still pressed against his. "Well sonuvabitch," he breathes. "This whole fucking time that I thought…" he lets the sentence drift.

"In hindsight, I suppose I could have handled it a little better."

"Oh, you suppose so?" he mocks. She smiles a real, genuine smile and he's almost dizzy from the rush of it. He needs her. Now.

"Well, what do you say we get started making up for lost time?" he asks, already unzipping her jumpsuit (and, fuck, he loves her in that jumpsuit).

"I'd like that," she says, already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt (and, fuck, is this really happening? Has he really been wanting her as much as she's been wanting him? She can feel the excitement of that realization alone pooling in her stomach and working it's way down to between her legs).

He peels her jumpsuit off and pushes her back against the wall, knotting their fingers together and holding them above her head as he kisses her mouth, her jawline, her chest. As soon as he frees her hands she goes for his belt buckle, simultaneously guiding him to the bed with her lips brushing against the stubble above his neck. She knocks his bag to the floor. He didn't expect her to lead at all. He isn't sure anything has ever turned him on as much as this.

She's surprised at her own vocalness as she instructs him on where to touch. He's a quick learner and within minutes is anticipating her requests, lips and fingers going exactly where she craves as she grinds her hips against his. She's usually more timid the fist time with someone new, but the sex comes like their conversation used to, easy and intoxicating, open and safe. She didn't expect it to feel this comfortable, this natural, this them. At one point they catch each others eyes and laugh at the absurdity of it all, him briefly burrowing his face in the crevice of her neck. At another point he says, "God, I missed you," while thrusting against her and she has to blink away the tears. No guy has ever said anything that nice to her during sex, or maybe ever.

When they have nothing left in them they lie against each other, hearts pounding and sheets tangled at their feet. Her fingers stroke his chest absentmindedly while his play with her hair.

"Jesus Blondie."

She laughs. He takes it in.

"And you were really just gonna ignore me?" he laughs. "You really thought that would end better than that."

"Hey," she defends herself. "You know what happened the last time I told a guy I had feelings for him? He used it to make Kate jealous." And the time before that? He was killed as part of some crazy revenge plot, she thinks but doesn't say. Not now, not yet. "I've got a crap track record, James. I wasn't looking to get hurt again."

He repositions himself so that he's facing her. "Well listen, I know I lied to women I was sleeping with for a living, so I don't expect you to take my word on anything, but I promise you, Juliet, I ain't looking to hurt you."

She smiles a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and kisses him, soft and slow. Back when she was reading his file, when she offered him water and he poured the whole bottle out, when she watched him having sex with Kate on those screens, she never would have believed the thought she was having now. I don't deserve this man's friendship.

She leans back against the pillow and spots East of Eden on the nightstand from the corner of her eye. She runs her finger along the fat spine, thankful for something lighter to focus on, and says, "so I guess I have to read this now?"

"Hell yes you do, Blondie. I was even gonna leave it here for you when I moved."

"Damn, see I knew we shouldn't start talking again. When we weren't, I didn't even have to admit to you I've that read another two books with all the free time I'd had. I'm actually in the middle of this really good dystopian novel—"

"Oh no, you don't," he cuts in. He's so missed these conversations, their easy banter. "I don't mess around when it comes to literature. You are starting this book today. In fact, here, you can get some light reading done right now." He reaches over her to take the book and place it in her lap. She rolls her eyes. "I ain't kidding, Blondie. Seriously, no more of this"—he motions at their bodies, at the bed—"until you've finished."

She laughs hard at that. "Okay, well in that case, this was fun while it lasted." She moves like she's going to get up and he pulls her back down, loving that they can joke about it all, that even after the last few weeks, even after the sex, their dynamic hasn't seemed to change at all.

"Alright, alright," he jokes. "I take it back. But come on, at least give me a chapter."

She sighs an exaggerated sigh. "Fine," she elongates the word for effect. "A chapter I can manage."

"Good," he grins. His dimples send a warmth running through her, and if she's being honest she'd probably speed read all six hundred unbearable pages in one sitting if he was serious about holding out on her.

"But hey," he says, tapping his hand lightly against her chest. As far as this"—another sweeping motion at the bed—"goes, we should set some ground rules, yeah?"

She nods, preparing for whatever he may say next.

"Okay, so, from here on out, no matter what happens, whether I move out or not, whether we continue this or not, whatever happens, we're friends first. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she smiles.

"Good. And please, Blondie, for the love of God, lets be honest about what we want from now on, okay?"

"Okay. In that case, I don't want you to move out, and I do want us to continue this," she repeats his hand gesture for good measure.

"Well that's a relief, cause I ain't planning on leaving or stopping."

He kisses her, and she can't help but imagine all the ways this can go terribly wrong. They'll get sick of each other, one of them will get bored first, one of them will develop stronger feelings than the other, one of them will get scared and it'll all implode. They'll lose everything.

We're friends first, she tells herself.

He lifts his head just slightly, and the excitement and anticipation and fear and anxiety of what's to come makes her nauseous, for just a moment.

We're friends first, she repeats. And this time, with his face an inch from hers and his dimples showing like never before, she decides to believe it.

The end

A/N: To any readers who made it to the end of this story, you guys are absolute rockstars. Thanks for reading!