The Dream That You Wish Will Come True - Lost - Claire/Juliet
Title: The Dream That You Wish Will Come True
Pairing: Claire/Juliet
Word Count: 3634
Rating: PG-13
A/N: This is a sequel to You Can Forget All Your Troubles, which I promised lenina20 I would write ages ago. I wrote it using my very last prompt for my writing_rainbow table. AU.
Summary: While in town for work, Claire stays with Juliet.
Juliet's shoes are uncomfortable. While they are drab and plain like the rest of her outfit, they don't have the practicality that their image implies. They'd felt fine in the shop, but Juliet has been wearing them all day and she's fairly sure that she can feel a blister on her little toe. They're also rubbing horribly on her ankles, to the point that she would limp if she could work out what foot hurts the least.
All in all, she thinks as she miserably slumps home through the sun-baked streets, it has not been a fantastic day.
She wishes that she could quit her job, put her research behind her and move somewhere far away from everybody that she's ever met. She wants to leave it all in the past and stride forward into the future, but with these shoes she doubts she will be going far.
There is only two blocks left and then she's home. She can curl up on the sofa and press a pair of plasters onto the back of her heels, pretending that the rest of the world doesn't exist until tomorrow at least. She'll wear open-backed shoes tomorrow, and she imagines the simple wardrobe change with a small smile. In such a state of discontent, the smallest things can seem like the largest pleasures.
Her apartment block begins to rear in her vision and she starts to scramble in her hangbag for the keys. As usual, they are hidden in a mass of useless items: books and notepads and her purse and painkillers and an umbrella and research documents and spare change and several loose pens and a few mints. There is probably enough in her bag to stock a small department store; she's too much of a worrier to leave anything behind, just in case she needs it.
She finds her keys hidden inside one of the folds of the umbrella, and a few minutes later she is letting herself into her apartment and kicking her shoes off immediately. In an instant she feels a little bit better; the feeling improves once she dumps her heavy bag onto the ground as well. She rolls her shoulders to toss away the stress of the day and she tilts her head from side to side.
Wandering into her little living room, she finds the answer machine flashing at her to tell her that she has a single message waiting for her.
Her heart sinks as she envisions Edmund's voice telling her that she has to return to work to finish an urgent project by night fall. Flopping down onto the sofa, she then reaches over the arm-rest to press play.
"You have - one - new message," her answer machine politely informs her. She rests her cheek in her hand as she waits for it to continue. "Message one: 'Hi Juliet, it's Claire.'"
Juliet sits upright at the sound of her voice, butterflies springing to life in her stomach.
"'I was hoping to catch you before work, but I guess I missed you. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm singing at a wedding in Miami this weekend, so if you're in the area give me a call. I'd love to see you again. So. Um. Yeah, you have my number. Hope to hear from you soon! Bye.'"
When she hangs up and the message ends, Juliet wants to replay it again and again and again. That trip from a month ago already feels like it might have been little more than part of a drugged-up dream. That sort of thing doesn't happen to people like her. It's too wild and too crazy and too good. Wild things only happen to wild people - and Juliet is as tame as they come.
She lets out a long, shaky breath and tries to imagine what she'll say to Claire when she calls her. She feels too nervous to try doing so right now, so she stands up instead and pads barefoot around her sofa to the kitchen to get a drink instead. She needs to get in touch with her sister as well tonight to see how she's doing, but she'll do that after she's talked to Claire; Rachel will want to hear every scrap of gossip so that she can dissect and analyse it with her. When they talk like that, Juliet feels like they are teenagers again and they have nothing better to worry about than their parents' new partners.
After gulping down a glass of water too quickly, Juliet heads back towards the phone. She finds Claire's number and dials, the butterflies in her stomach feeling violent as she listens to the sound of it ringing. Claire exists in a fantasy pocket of her mind, tucked away where the memories will be safe. From the unsettled emotions of the night they'd first met, to the soft exploration of the night after that, every second of their time spent together is wrapped in a perfection that Juliet doesn't think she could ever hope to emulate.
The phone rings for too long and she is ready to give up and hang up before it suddenly stops. In the background, she can hear the sound of a child wailing. Guilt instantly takes over from nerves. "Hello?" Claire pants, out of breath and flustered.
"It's Juliet," she says, at a loss of what else to say. "Should I call back later? I can hear Aaron."
"No, no, it's fine. Charlie's got him," Claire says. The sound quietens and Juliet can hear the sound of Claire taking the phone through to another room. She still can't help but feel that she's disturbed their home life - and, perhaps, there is the smallest hint of jealousy too, that Claire's friend is there while Juliet is so far away. "I'm glad you called, actually. I was about to book a hotel room for this weekend, but maybe, if you're in town, I could crash at yours?"
Juliet starts beating so hard that she's amazed that she can even hear the sound of Claire's voice above it. She swallows. "Yes. That would be fine."
"Awesome," Claire says. Juliet can hear the way she's smiling and when she closes her eyes she can imagine exactly how that expression must look on her sweet face. "I'll be getting in early on Friday evening. I'm needed at the wedding all of Saturday, but if you're free on Sunday we could spend some time together. There's no rush for me to come home. Charlie's going to be playing the good uncle for Aaron."
"Will that really be alright?"
"Yeah, he'll love it. He gets to act like a big kid himself when he's keeping an eye on Aaron, and I need a break anyway." She doesn't sound tired, but Juliet doesn't think that that means anything; she doesn't think that Claire could ever sound tired, as she's bubbling with too much personality and energy. It's hard in a way to imagine her as a real, living person instead of as a perfect character that has wandered into Juliet's life straight from a movie screen. "So I will be entirely in your hands come this Sunday. You can do what you like with me."
And, yes, it's possible that Juliet's mind first floods to a place that causes a red flush to colour her cheeks. She giggles and feels like a teenager, closing her eyes and then biting her bottom lip; this is ridiculous. She is getting too old to be reacting like this, isn't she?
"You have such a filthy laugh," Claire says. "I kind of love it."
The blush intensifies and Juliet forces herself to quieten down. "I don't think anyone's ever commented on my laugh before," she says - and if they have then she's certain it hasn't been positive. Sometimes, when she's amused, she snorts.
"Then I'm happy to be your first," Claire says. Her tone is teasing and it's enough to make Juliet's stomach flip. She shouldn't be feeling like this; her day has been dreadful and her feet are still so sore, and yet a few words from Claire are all that it takes to make this feel like the best day that she has had all month. "I'd better go and rescue Charlie and Aaron from themselves. I'll see you soon, okay? And I'll call you once I work out what time I'm getting in on Friday, okay?"
"Okay. It's been nice hearing from you again, Claire," Juliet says. She doesn't know how to say goodbye. She's always been bad at that.
Claire's voice shines like the sun. "I'm going to start calling more often. Your voice sounds lovely on the phone," she says. Claire is like a two-minute ego boost, all that anyone would ever need to get their confidence up. Juliet doesn't think she's ever had as many compliments in her entire life as she gets within an hour of talking to Claire. "See you soon."
Claire hangs up and Juliet listens to the dial tone for a few more moments, as if she might be able to soak a little bit of extra sunshine from the sound. She has to admit defeat once a few seconds have passed, but it's still alright. She feels amazing, as if there is a glow covering her entire body.
The end of the week can't come soon enough.
*
Her apartment is tidier than it has been since she first moved in, every single item ruthlessly put into its rightful place or hidden away altogether. It feels like a show home, but she still worries about the marks on the carpet that she couldn't wash away and the loose thread threatening to pull free from her sofa. It isn't perfect like she thinks that she needs it to be. It isn't enough.
The buzzer rings. She's already standing near the door, watching the clock as the time approaches for Claire to arrive.
She counts to four before she answers. She meant to make it to five, but her eagerness wouldn't allow it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Claire."
"I'll buzz you up. It's the third floor."
She presses the button to allow Claire into the building. Through the door she can hear the sound of someone entering down below and climbing the stairs. The nerves churning her stomach feel ruthless and she wishes that it wasn't too late to call this whole thing off. What had she been thinking? She hardly knows Claire at all, yet she's invited her into her apartment and her life. She's not usually this foolish.
A knock sounds at the door and Juliet's gaze settles upon it as if a boogeyman is about to burst through over the threshold. She reminds herself that Claire is sweet and kind and endlessly beautiful. She's not a threat. She's nothing to be frightened of.
Juliet breathes out slowly and then reaches for the door handle, tugging it open. Claire is on her doorstep, her blonde hair tied back from her face. Wearing jeans and a blue tunic-top, she looks more her age than she had wearing luxurious ballgowns when they'd first met. Her face is free from make-up and she's carrying a large suitcase. When the door opens, she lets out a sound that is a little bit like a squeal.
"You made it," Juliet says; she sounds relieved, as if she's been worrying about Claire's flight and her journey through the city. "Come in. Do you need me to carry your case?"
"Nah, I've got it," Claire said, carrying it over the threshold and into the apartment. "Wow, your place is gorgeous."
"It's..." Juliet has nothing to say to deflect the compliment so she shakes her head instead, leading Claire through to her living room. Claire dumps her suitcase on the ground and they both stand there, facing each other. There's an uncertain tension on the air that Juliet hadn't expected at all; Claire is so confident that she seems able to defuse any awkwardness effortlessly.
"C'mon, let's sit down and catch up. There must be so much you have to tell me," Claire says.
There isn't, really. Meeting Claire is the most exciting thing that has happened in years, but Juliet follows instructions and they sit on the couch together and chat like old friends. Claire makes it easy. Juliet is over-aware of Claire's body at the other end of the couch, so close that she could reach out and touch her if she wanted - if she was brave enough, in fact, because there is no doubt that she wants it badly.
Claire is beautiful and funny and sweet, and Juliet can't help but wonder if she was ever this alive when she was Claire's age. She doubts it. God, she really doubts it.
Hours trickle by unnoticed.
"Do you think we could go out and grab something to eat? I'm starving," Claire says once she finishes regaling Juliet with an anecdote of her childhood in Australia.
The thought of going out in public with Claire for everyone to see makes Juliet's nerves spring to life again in a way that feels thrilling. Most people they meet won't think anything of it; they'll see two women going out for dinner together. It won't look like a date, it won't look significant to anybody from the outside - but Juliet herself will know what it really is. She'll feel as if all eyes are on her, questioning and wondering exactly what she thinks she's doing. She's Juliet Burke. She's a shy scientist who never dates and who is never noticed. She's nobody, while Claire is somebody real and fresh and vibrant.
"... Or we could stay in, if you'd rather. We could watch a movie here," Claire suggests, as if she's picked up on Juliet's hesitation.
Her voice is too carefully casual, too consciously light-hearted. She's still smiling.
"No," Juliet says after a slow pause. "Let's go out. I want to go out with you."
"Really? You don't have to."
"I want to. We haven't had a real date yet anyway." The word feels like static electricity from her lips, tingling pleasantly as she says it. A date with Claire. She's really doing this, then, fully committed to the idea of exploring these feelings that she has. "There's a nice restaurant nearby. I'll give them a call and see if there's a table free."
Her nerves are screaming, the butterflies in her stomach are dancing, but as Juliet walks to the phone she can feel the smooth rush of adrenaline rushing through her veins. She feels better than she has in years.
*
Dinner is expensive but Juliet is happy to pay, waving away Claire's offer to half the bill with her. It's getting late, but even though Claire has a wedding to work at tomorrow neither one of them wants to go home. When they go to sleep tonight the evening will be over, and right now Juliet's cheeks hurt because she's been smiling too much.
"I feel like you might turn into a pumpkin at any second," she says when they begin to walk side-by-side, taking as long as possible to walk the short distance back to her apartment.
"Don't worry. Your fairy godmother is still on your side: I promise." Claire slips her hand through the loop of Juliet's arm and they walk linked together. Claire's bare skin presses against hers until it is all Juliet can think about. Her mind is already nervously dancing ahead to where the evening is leading and what might happen once they reach her flat. "No glass slippers, no mice, no pumpkins. You have my word on that."
"Just as well. Glass slippers always seemed unpractical," Juliet says, with a small smile that grows when Claire giggles.
The street lamp outside her building is already on, glowing a gentle orange when they approach. Claire stands behind her as her keys let them in the front door, and they walk up the stairs, still chatting. Juliet fumbles with her keys and her fingers feel weak when she lets them in and flicks the light switch on. "Home sweet home," Juliet says. "Do you want some coffee?"
"I'm fine," Claire says. She slips her shoes from her feet and leaves them by the doorway, padding in only her socks towards the living room. "But you go ahead, if you'd like."
Juliet decides against it, because she is jittery enough without trying to add caffeine to the mix as well. She pushes her hair back from her face, hating how out of control it feels alongside the smooth, sleek length of Claire's hair. Swallowing, she follows Claire to the living room and sits with her on the couch.
"You look kinda nervous," Claire says. "I hope I'm not scaring you."
"You're not scary, no," Juliet says. Claire isn't. Her presence is. Her presence makes Juliet feels as if she is about to jump into shark infested waters and there's a part of her that is looking forward to it: she wants to be devoured. She wants to lose everything. "I'm just... I'm nervous. I'm really nervous. Is that odd?"
It must be. She feels like it is, because she hadn't even been this nervous during her first date with Edmund. She had been so in awe of him and so impressed by his effortless sophistocation. He could have absentmindedly had her eating from the palm of his hand.
With Claire, it is different. She has that same feeling of awe but it is more fluid and more unknown. She doesn't know the accepted patterns; she doesn't know who ought to make the first move. She is the older of the pair - perhaps it ought to be her, though she doesn't think that she has the courage to do so. Not yet.
"That's not odd at all. It's natural." Claire watches her, her head tilted slightly to the side. "There's no rush, Juliet. We can take our time - we can even sit around playing scrabble all night if you'd like. I'm alright with whatever you're comfortable with."
She's too sweet and too understanding and Juliet wants to ask why: why is she here, why is she bothering her, why here, why now, why? She doesn't think it will make it easier for her to understand if she hears the reasoning, but at least then she will have something to hold onto.
She reaches out so that she can stroke the tips of her fingers against the side of Claire's face. It feels soft and heated, and Claire's blue eyes watch her without moving. It is an accepting stare, not a judgemental one; Juliet knows that she will be allowed to do whatever she wants.
It feels freeing.
"Can I kiss you?" she asks, with a tremble in her voice.
Claire's pink lips smile. "You can so do that," she says.
She's still smiling when Juliet does it, her lips a warm curve against Juliet's own. The kiss feels full of joy and Juliet can taste the fruit of Claire's lip balm. It makes her think of high school and college, of being as young as Claire is now and of having all the world for the taking. Claire has the entire universe at her fingertips, and she has chosen Juliet.
Juliet's breathing is shallow and sharp even as Claire allows her to lead, following her movements and pushing no further. Claire is gentle and respectful and Juliet wishes that she had met her a decade ago. Perhaps, then, she wouldn't have had Edmund to kick her self-esteem in the face. With Claire at her side, she could have held her head high and taken on the world: it would have trembled at their feet.
It still could.
It's not too late.
With the softest pressure on her shoulders, Claire lies back against the couch and Juliet follows with her, unwilling to break connection for any longer than she has to. She doesn't want to think about what will happen when Monday comes and she has to settle back into her regular life. Claire will be gone and all that will be left is work and uncomfortable shoes and monotony.
For tonight, there is this. Soft lips and quiet gasps and fingers exploring new places. Claire's face flushes pink and, by the time they retreat to Juliet's bedroom, her nerves are buried for the night.
*
Juliet groans and rolls onto her front when she slides gently into consciousness in the morning. She can hear the sound of Claire creeping around the room to get changed for the wedding she has to perform at that day. Juliet ought to get up with her. She ought to be a good host and make breakfast for her, but the thought of leaving her warm, comfortable bed fills her with an uneasy sense of dread. She hardly ever sleeps in, but with a lazy morning smile she thinks of the way Claire had worn her out last night.
Claire brushes a kiss against the top of her head and whispers, "I'll be back late this evening."
'This evening' feels a long, long time away. Juliet doesn't know what she's going to do once Claire goes home. She knows that Claire can't stay here indefinitely. She has her child and her own life far away, completely separate from Juliet, and Juliet is going to make herself accept that.
In the meantime, they have this weekend. While Claire is gone, she is going to tidy up the apartment and buy some ingredients so that she can make dinner tonight. She wants everything to be perfect. She sinks deeper under the covers when she hears the front door close as Claire leaves, and a content sigh leaves her lips. Perhaps she ought to worry about the future - but her short time with Claire has already taught her how to enjoy the present.
Pairing: Claire/Juliet
Word Count: 3634
Rating: PG-13
A/N: This is a sequel to You Can Forget All Your Troubles, which I promised lenina20 I would write ages ago. I wrote it using my very last prompt for my writing_rainbow table. AU.
Summary: While in town for work, Claire stays with Juliet.
Juliet's shoes are uncomfortable. While they are drab and plain like the rest of her outfit, they don't have the practicality that their image implies. They'd felt fine in the shop, but Juliet has been wearing them all day and she's fairly sure that she can feel a blister on her little toe. They're also rubbing horribly on her ankles, to the point that she would limp if she could work out what foot hurts the least.
All in all, she thinks as she miserably slumps home through the sun-baked streets, it has not been a fantastic day.
She wishes that she could quit her job, put her research behind her and move somewhere far away from everybody that she's ever met. She wants to leave it all in the past and stride forward into the future, but with these shoes she doubts she will be going far.
There is only two blocks left and then she's home. She can curl up on the sofa and press a pair of plasters onto the back of her heels, pretending that the rest of the world doesn't exist until tomorrow at least. She'll wear open-backed shoes tomorrow, and she imagines the simple wardrobe change with a small smile. In such a state of discontent, the smallest things can seem like the largest pleasures.
Her apartment block begins to rear in her vision and she starts to scramble in her hangbag for the keys. As usual, they are hidden in a mass of useless items: books and notepads and her purse and painkillers and an umbrella and research documents and spare change and several loose pens and a few mints. There is probably enough in her bag to stock a small department store; she's too much of a worrier to leave anything behind, just in case she needs it.
She finds her keys hidden inside one of the folds of the umbrella, and a few minutes later she is letting herself into her apartment and kicking her shoes off immediately. In an instant she feels a little bit better; the feeling improves once she dumps her heavy bag onto the ground as well. She rolls her shoulders to toss away the stress of the day and she tilts her head from side to side.
Wandering into her little living room, she finds the answer machine flashing at her to tell her that she has a single message waiting for her.
Her heart sinks as she envisions Edmund's voice telling her that she has to return to work to finish an urgent project by night fall. Flopping down onto the sofa, she then reaches over the arm-rest to press play.
"You have - one - new message," her answer machine politely informs her. She rests her cheek in her hand as she waits for it to continue. "Message one: 'Hi Juliet, it's Claire.'"
Juliet sits upright at the sound of her voice, butterflies springing to life in her stomach.
"'I was hoping to catch you before work, but I guess I missed you. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm singing at a wedding in Miami this weekend, so if you're in the area give me a call. I'd love to see you again. So. Um. Yeah, you have my number. Hope to hear from you soon! Bye.'"
When she hangs up and the message ends, Juliet wants to replay it again and again and again. That trip from a month ago already feels like it might have been little more than part of a drugged-up dream. That sort of thing doesn't happen to people like her. It's too wild and too crazy and too good. Wild things only happen to wild people - and Juliet is as tame as they come.
She lets out a long, shaky breath and tries to imagine what she'll say to Claire when she calls her. She feels too nervous to try doing so right now, so she stands up instead and pads barefoot around her sofa to the kitchen to get a drink instead. She needs to get in touch with her sister as well tonight to see how she's doing, but she'll do that after she's talked to Claire; Rachel will want to hear every scrap of gossip so that she can dissect and analyse it with her. When they talk like that, Juliet feels like they are teenagers again and they have nothing better to worry about than their parents' new partners.
After gulping down a glass of water too quickly, Juliet heads back towards the phone. She finds Claire's number and dials, the butterflies in her stomach feeling violent as she listens to the sound of it ringing. Claire exists in a fantasy pocket of her mind, tucked away where the memories will be safe. From the unsettled emotions of the night they'd first met, to the soft exploration of the night after that, every second of their time spent together is wrapped in a perfection that Juliet doesn't think she could ever hope to emulate.
The phone rings for too long and she is ready to give up and hang up before it suddenly stops. In the background, she can hear the sound of a child wailing. Guilt instantly takes over from nerves. "Hello?" Claire pants, out of breath and flustered.
"It's Juliet," she says, at a loss of what else to say. "Should I call back later? I can hear Aaron."
"No, no, it's fine. Charlie's got him," Claire says. The sound quietens and Juliet can hear the sound of Claire taking the phone through to another room. She still can't help but feel that she's disturbed their home life - and, perhaps, there is the smallest hint of jealousy too, that Claire's friend is there while Juliet is so far away. "I'm glad you called, actually. I was about to book a hotel room for this weekend, but maybe, if you're in town, I could crash at yours?"
Juliet starts beating so hard that she's amazed that she can even hear the sound of Claire's voice above it. She swallows. "Yes. That would be fine."
"Awesome," Claire says. Juliet can hear the way she's smiling and when she closes her eyes she can imagine exactly how that expression must look on her sweet face. "I'll be getting in early on Friday evening. I'm needed at the wedding all of Saturday, but if you're free on Sunday we could spend some time together. There's no rush for me to come home. Charlie's going to be playing the good uncle for Aaron."
"Will that really be alright?"
"Yeah, he'll love it. He gets to act like a big kid himself when he's keeping an eye on Aaron, and I need a break anyway." She doesn't sound tired, but Juliet doesn't think that that means anything; she doesn't think that Claire could ever sound tired, as she's bubbling with too much personality and energy. It's hard in a way to imagine her as a real, living person instead of as a perfect character that has wandered into Juliet's life straight from a movie screen. "So I will be entirely in your hands come this Sunday. You can do what you like with me."
And, yes, it's possible that Juliet's mind first floods to a place that causes a red flush to colour her cheeks. She giggles and feels like a teenager, closing her eyes and then biting her bottom lip; this is ridiculous. She is getting too old to be reacting like this, isn't she?
"You have such a filthy laugh," Claire says. "I kind of love it."
The blush intensifies and Juliet forces herself to quieten down. "I don't think anyone's ever commented on my laugh before," she says - and if they have then she's certain it hasn't been positive. Sometimes, when she's amused, she snorts.
"Then I'm happy to be your first," Claire says. Her tone is teasing and it's enough to make Juliet's stomach flip. She shouldn't be feeling like this; her day has been dreadful and her feet are still so sore, and yet a few words from Claire are all that it takes to make this feel like the best day that she has had all month. "I'd better go and rescue Charlie and Aaron from themselves. I'll see you soon, okay? And I'll call you once I work out what time I'm getting in on Friday, okay?"
"Okay. It's been nice hearing from you again, Claire," Juliet says. She doesn't know how to say goodbye. She's always been bad at that.
Claire's voice shines like the sun. "I'm going to start calling more often. Your voice sounds lovely on the phone," she says. Claire is like a two-minute ego boost, all that anyone would ever need to get their confidence up. Juliet doesn't think she's ever had as many compliments in her entire life as she gets within an hour of talking to Claire. "See you soon."
Claire hangs up and Juliet listens to the dial tone for a few more moments, as if she might be able to soak a little bit of extra sunshine from the sound. She has to admit defeat once a few seconds have passed, but it's still alright. She feels amazing, as if there is a glow covering her entire body.
The end of the week can't come soon enough.
*
Her apartment is tidier than it has been since she first moved in, every single item ruthlessly put into its rightful place or hidden away altogether. It feels like a show home, but she still worries about the marks on the carpet that she couldn't wash away and the loose thread threatening to pull free from her sofa. It isn't perfect like she thinks that she needs it to be. It isn't enough.
The buzzer rings. She's already standing near the door, watching the clock as the time approaches for Claire to arrive.
She counts to four before she answers. She meant to make it to five, but her eagerness wouldn't allow it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Claire."
"I'll buzz you up. It's the third floor."
She presses the button to allow Claire into the building. Through the door she can hear the sound of someone entering down below and climbing the stairs. The nerves churning her stomach feel ruthless and she wishes that it wasn't too late to call this whole thing off. What had she been thinking? She hardly knows Claire at all, yet she's invited her into her apartment and her life. She's not usually this foolish.
A knock sounds at the door and Juliet's gaze settles upon it as if a boogeyman is about to burst through over the threshold. She reminds herself that Claire is sweet and kind and endlessly beautiful. She's not a threat. She's nothing to be frightened of.
Juliet breathes out slowly and then reaches for the door handle, tugging it open. Claire is on her doorstep, her blonde hair tied back from her face. Wearing jeans and a blue tunic-top, she looks more her age than she had wearing luxurious ballgowns when they'd first met. Her face is free from make-up and she's carrying a large suitcase. When the door opens, she lets out a sound that is a little bit like a squeal.
"You made it," Juliet says; she sounds relieved, as if she's been worrying about Claire's flight and her journey through the city. "Come in. Do you need me to carry your case?"
"Nah, I've got it," Claire said, carrying it over the threshold and into the apartment. "Wow, your place is gorgeous."
"It's..." Juliet has nothing to say to deflect the compliment so she shakes her head instead, leading Claire through to her living room. Claire dumps her suitcase on the ground and they both stand there, facing each other. There's an uncertain tension on the air that Juliet hadn't expected at all; Claire is so confident that she seems able to defuse any awkwardness effortlessly.
"C'mon, let's sit down and catch up. There must be so much you have to tell me," Claire says.
There isn't, really. Meeting Claire is the most exciting thing that has happened in years, but Juliet follows instructions and they sit on the couch together and chat like old friends. Claire makes it easy. Juliet is over-aware of Claire's body at the other end of the couch, so close that she could reach out and touch her if she wanted - if she was brave enough, in fact, because there is no doubt that she wants it badly.
Claire is beautiful and funny and sweet, and Juliet can't help but wonder if she was ever this alive when she was Claire's age. She doubts it. God, she really doubts it.
Hours trickle by unnoticed.
"Do you think we could go out and grab something to eat? I'm starving," Claire says once she finishes regaling Juliet with an anecdote of her childhood in Australia.
The thought of going out in public with Claire for everyone to see makes Juliet's nerves spring to life again in a way that feels thrilling. Most people they meet won't think anything of it; they'll see two women going out for dinner together. It won't look like a date, it won't look significant to anybody from the outside - but Juliet herself will know what it really is. She'll feel as if all eyes are on her, questioning and wondering exactly what she thinks she's doing. She's Juliet Burke. She's a shy scientist who never dates and who is never noticed. She's nobody, while Claire is somebody real and fresh and vibrant.
"... Or we could stay in, if you'd rather. We could watch a movie here," Claire suggests, as if she's picked up on Juliet's hesitation.
Her voice is too carefully casual, too consciously light-hearted. She's still smiling.
"No," Juliet says after a slow pause. "Let's go out. I want to go out with you."
"Really? You don't have to."
"I want to. We haven't had a real date yet anyway." The word feels like static electricity from her lips, tingling pleasantly as she says it. A date with Claire. She's really doing this, then, fully committed to the idea of exploring these feelings that she has. "There's a nice restaurant nearby. I'll give them a call and see if there's a table free."
Her nerves are screaming, the butterflies in her stomach are dancing, but as Juliet walks to the phone she can feel the smooth rush of adrenaline rushing through her veins. She feels better than she has in years.
*
Dinner is expensive but Juliet is happy to pay, waving away Claire's offer to half the bill with her. It's getting late, but even though Claire has a wedding to work at tomorrow neither one of them wants to go home. When they go to sleep tonight the evening will be over, and right now Juliet's cheeks hurt because she's been smiling too much.
"I feel like you might turn into a pumpkin at any second," she says when they begin to walk side-by-side, taking as long as possible to walk the short distance back to her apartment.
"Don't worry. Your fairy godmother is still on your side: I promise." Claire slips her hand through the loop of Juliet's arm and they walk linked together. Claire's bare skin presses against hers until it is all Juliet can think about. Her mind is already nervously dancing ahead to where the evening is leading and what might happen once they reach her flat. "No glass slippers, no mice, no pumpkins. You have my word on that."
"Just as well. Glass slippers always seemed unpractical," Juliet says, with a small smile that grows when Claire giggles.
The street lamp outside her building is already on, glowing a gentle orange when they approach. Claire stands behind her as her keys let them in the front door, and they walk up the stairs, still chatting. Juliet fumbles with her keys and her fingers feel weak when she lets them in and flicks the light switch on. "Home sweet home," Juliet says. "Do you want some coffee?"
"I'm fine," Claire says. She slips her shoes from her feet and leaves them by the doorway, padding in only her socks towards the living room. "But you go ahead, if you'd like."
Juliet decides against it, because she is jittery enough without trying to add caffeine to the mix as well. She pushes her hair back from her face, hating how out of control it feels alongside the smooth, sleek length of Claire's hair. Swallowing, she follows Claire to the living room and sits with her on the couch.
"You look kinda nervous," Claire says. "I hope I'm not scaring you."
"You're not scary, no," Juliet says. Claire isn't. Her presence is. Her presence makes Juliet feels as if she is about to jump into shark infested waters and there's a part of her that is looking forward to it: she wants to be devoured. She wants to lose everything. "I'm just... I'm nervous. I'm really nervous. Is that odd?"
It must be. She feels like it is, because she hadn't even been this nervous during her first date with Edmund. She had been so in awe of him and so impressed by his effortless sophistocation. He could have absentmindedly had her eating from the palm of his hand.
With Claire, it is different. She has that same feeling of awe but it is more fluid and more unknown. She doesn't know the accepted patterns; she doesn't know who ought to make the first move. She is the older of the pair - perhaps it ought to be her, though she doesn't think that she has the courage to do so. Not yet.
"That's not odd at all. It's natural." Claire watches her, her head tilted slightly to the side. "There's no rush, Juliet. We can take our time - we can even sit around playing scrabble all night if you'd like. I'm alright with whatever you're comfortable with."
She's too sweet and too understanding and Juliet wants to ask why: why is she here, why is she bothering her, why here, why now, why? She doesn't think it will make it easier for her to understand if she hears the reasoning, but at least then she will have something to hold onto.
She reaches out so that she can stroke the tips of her fingers against the side of Claire's face. It feels soft and heated, and Claire's blue eyes watch her without moving. It is an accepting stare, not a judgemental one; Juliet knows that she will be allowed to do whatever she wants.
It feels freeing.
"Can I kiss you?" she asks, with a tremble in her voice.
Claire's pink lips smile. "You can so do that," she says.
She's still smiling when Juliet does it, her lips a warm curve against Juliet's own. The kiss feels full of joy and Juliet can taste the fruit of Claire's lip balm. It makes her think of high school and college, of being as young as Claire is now and of having all the world for the taking. Claire has the entire universe at her fingertips, and she has chosen Juliet.
Juliet's breathing is shallow and sharp even as Claire allows her to lead, following her movements and pushing no further. Claire is gentle and respectful and Juliet wishes that she had met her a decade ago. Perhaps, then, she wouldn't have had Edmund to kick her self-esteem in the face. With Claire at her side, she could have held her head high and taken on the world: it would have trembled at their feet.
It still could.
It's not too late.
With the softest pressure on her shoulders, Claire lies back against the couch and Juliet follows with her, unwilling to break connection for any longer than she has to. She doesn't want to think about what will happen when Monday comes and she has to settle back into her regular life. Claire will be gone and all that will be left is work and uncomfortable shoes and monotony.
For tonight, there is this. Soft lips and quiet gasps and fingers exploring new places. Claire's face flushes pink and, by the time they retreat to Juliet's bedroom, her nerves are buried for the night.
*
Juliet groans and rolls onto her front when she slides gently into consciousness in the morning. She can hear the sound of Claire creeping around the room to get changed for the wedding she has to perform at that day. Juliet ought to get up with her. She ought to be a good host and make breakfast for her, but the thought of leaving her warm, comfortable bed fills her with an uneasy sense of dread. She hardly ever sleeps in, but with a lazy morning smile she thinks of the way Claire had worn her out last night.
Claire brushes a kiss against the top of her head and whispers, "I'll be back late this evening."
'This evening' feels a long, long time away. Juliet doesn't know what she's going to do once Claire goes home. She knows that Claire can't stay here indefinitely. She has her child and her own life far away, completely separate from Juliet, and Juliet is going to make herself accept that.
In the meantime, they have this weekend. While Claire is gone, she is going to tidy up the apartment and buy some ingredients so that she can make dinner tonight. She wants everything to be perfect. She sinks deeper under the covers when she hears the front door close as Claire leaves, and a content sigh leaves her lips. Perhaps she ought to worry about the future - but her short time with Claire has already taught her how to enjoy the present.