Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Gorgmogon case had been hell for the entire team, finding out that Zack was his apprentice made everything worse. It’s not like he and Juliette had been the best of friends, not the way he was with the others on the team at least. But still, she liked the guy. They had spent so many hours together, so many late night talks during their breaks. He was the only other intern around, so he had felt like a friend. But apparently it was all an illusion.

They had suspected it was that new psychologist guy that had been hanging around them a lot, some more than others. Juliette didn’t think much of him, he was just an awkward guy who didn’t seem to get social cues all that well. But then again, Brennan was the same. Dr. Sweets was around her age, a geeky guy who had been accused of being a cannibal’s apprentice. But it didn’t seem to phase him that much, he even went as far as to offer all of them a free therapy session. Either this guy was really desperate to be liked, or he was genuinely just a nice guy. Juliette hoped it was the second.

Life went on after Zack was put away, albeit in a weird awkward environment. Juliette was still Angela’s intern, murders still happened, bodies still had to be examined. But she couldn’t shake the weight of everything that had happened off of her. Dr. Sweets was in the lab a lot more now that he helped with cases from time to time, so she decided to take him up on his offer for a little therapy; she had gone through extensive amounts of it to deal with all her… past issues, but hadn’t been actively going to a shrink for two years now.

Out of the window of her little office she watched as Dr. Sweets was talking to Hodgins, when the conversation came to an end she waved him over. She watched as he quickly walked over to her, unsure expression on his face.

“Dr. Dupont, what can I do for you?” He asked all cheery and smiley. What a dork.

“Yeah so, I was wondering if your offer for a free therapy sesh was still on the table?” She asked tentatively as she watched a smile blossom on his face.

“Oh yeah, I suppose it is! Would uh… hold on one second… would next Tuesday work? At 2:45?” He asked as he pulled a little notebook out of his left inner pocket. The glimpse she got of it revealed a mess of scribbles in what may be the worst handwriting she had ever seen.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fine; I’ll go ask Cam just to be sure though.” She said.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then!” Lance said as he started turning around.

“Wait! How do I let you know if anything comes up?” She called after him, not even being sure if Cam would approve of the appointment.

“Oh.” Lance said as he turned around again. “I suppose I could just give you my number. If that’s okay for you?”

“Yeah that’s alright.” She said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

She watched as he typed in his number and gave back her phone. He had listed himself under ‘Dr. Sweets’

“I’ll send you a text so you know mine as well.” She said as she began typing. ‘Juliette Dupont’ is all she wrote. She wasn’t even sure if she had ever told him her first name.

“Thank you Dr. Dupont, I’ll see you next Tuesday then! Gotta run now, bye!” He said as he started practically speed walking away.

“Bye!” She called after him, which earned her another quick wave.

She got back to work after that; her paperwork was filed, which meant she was now in the middle of doing a reconstruction when Cam walked in, clearly looking for Angela.

“How’s everything going here?” Cam asked as she walked over to Juliette’s desk.

“Everything is going as it should, I’m almost done with this one.” She said, as Cam gave her a noise of acknowledgment. “Hey Cam?” She said after a moment of silence.

“Hhm?” Cam said as she turned around to look  at her, she had just started walking back to her own office.

“Do you remember when Dr. Sweets offered us some therapy after the whole… Gormogon debacle?” She said carefully. It was still a sensitive subject; she could see Cam’s expression crumple just a little bit over the mention of Zack.

“I do.” Cam answered.

“Well, I took him up on his offer.” Juliette said as she watched Cam now turn all her attention onto her. “The session should happen next Tuesday. It’s gonna be a one time thing, I hope, but I just wanted to ask if that would be alright for you?”

“Yeah that should be fine, just come back right after. Lord knows I need you here to keep me sane.” Cam said as she quickly and gently placed her hand on Juliette’s shoulder. Out of all the people in the lab, Cam was the first one to really warm up to her and treat her like an equal, rather than just some intern. Alongside Angela of course. The others were a bit slower with befriending her, but she couldn’t really blame them. She was younger than all of them, the youngest in the lab at that time. And if her age didn’t do it, it was the fact that she was this artsy weirdo with a bunch of piercings that had earned her a myriad of comments from agent Booth. It was getting better though, she was trying to open up more, trying to make friends. The lab had felt more like home than her actual home had felt for a long time. Even agent Booth seemed to be warming up to her. For every witty little remark he would throw at her, she had at least three clever responses to give back, and she could see he respected that. It didn't stop him from making them though.

“Will do, thank you.” Juliette said while giving Cam a soft smile. Cam gave her one back with a gentle squeeze of the shoulder before returning to her work.

Lance hadn’t expected anyone to take him up on his offer, far less for it to be Dr. Dupont. To be completely honest, he had convinced himself she didn’t like him one bit. But maybe it was just the fact that he had been completely starstruck from the moment he saw her, or maybe it was the fact that he very rarely met people his age in his field. Maybe it was the fact that Dr. Dupont stood up for herself in such a way that he admired, envied even. Maybe it was the fact that he had been trying so hard to be friends with her that he was scared he had weirded her out. But then she called him over and didn’t look at him weirdly or condescending like some of the others tend to do. So it must’ve all been in his head.

The days leading up to the appointment went by agonizingly slow. Too many moments were spent stressing over how it would all play out. Out of everyone in the lab, Dr. Dupont was the hardest to read. Lance could not figure her out, and it fascinated him endlessly. The others were obvious most of the time, open books even. He could see right through them, as much as they tried to fence themselves off. It was almost too easy for him. But not Dr. Dupont; no, she was difficult. She was as closed off to the world as she was open to it. Her face remained neutral most of the time, her resting face closer to a permanent scowl. But one look into those big, dark eyes and he got pulled in. It left him feeling like he was free-falling to the very depths of what was Juliette Dupont. He had caught himself staring on more than one occasion, looking away all flustered whenever it happened. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, why she of all people had him feeling this way. Lance couldn’t dwell on it too long, a knock on his office door startled him out of his thoughts.

“Come in!” He called out to the person behind the door.

Dr. Dupont walked in, motorcycle helmet in hand. Her long blonde hair fell off her shoulders in waves that couldn’t compete with the ocean. She was wearing that leather jacket Lance had seen her in every day without fault and some purple bell bottoms underneath. Many pieces of gold jewelry adorned her features, just like the many freckles and moles visible on her skin. Her cheeks and nose were a bit flushed, probably due to the weather getting colder outside.

Lance got up from his little desk and gestured towards the little couch.

“Have a seat; glad you could make it, Dr. Dupont.”

“Juliette.” She said as she draped her jacket across the back of the couch and took a seat.

“Sorry?” Lance said.

“You can call me Juliette.” She said as she flashed him a little smile.

Lance’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it.

Chapter Text

The session had gone much better than he had expected. But then again, Lance was expecting the worst. It was surprisingly easy to slip into psychologist mode as soon as Juliette had started speaking about how much the whole situation had bothered her. She had explained how she felt bad about not trusting Zack anymore, even though the rest of the team did. She explained that she felt betrayed and that she felt like her trust had been taken advantage of. This, in turn, made her feel left out. And Lance knew about feeling left out all too well.

In a way, it was comforting that she felt so similar to him. He had always viewed the team as a whole, with him awkwardly looking from the sidelines. And he had always thought Juliette felt like a true and vital part of that team, at least that’s what it looked like. He had envied her and felt jealous of her ability to fit in despite her age. But he was only now finding out how much she felt like an outsider as well. The rest didn’t mean to of course, but they still treated both of them as kids. She explained that her being an intern didn’t make it feel any better either.

The bigger issue was very quickly discussed, and after reassuring her that she was allowed to feel the way she did, Juliette seemed a lot lighter already. He was kind of proud of this accomplishment. He was good at his job, no matter how many times Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan would dunk on it. Juliette had explained that she went to therapy for many years, and greatly appreciated it as a science. Lance would be lying if he said this didn’t boost his ego. Just a little bit.

About halfway through the session, the conversation seemed to switch, almost becoming just a conversation between friends.

“You know what I just realized, I think this feels so bad because this is exactly how I used to feel my first two years of college.” She said.

“What do you mean by that?” Lance asked. Tilting his head a little.

“Well, not a lot of people want to be friends with a 15-year-old in college you know?”

“Mhh.” Lance mused, he knows what it’s like very well. “What changed?”

“I made a friend.” Juliette said as she smiled to herself.

“Tell me about him.” Lance smiled at her. She could see her entire face light up at the request. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her this open, with a smile this genuine.

“His name is Finn, he’s still my best friend actually. He just like, lives on the other side of the country now. Sadly.” She paused for a moment, thinking about what to say next. Lance had put his notepad down a while ago, still holding the pen to fidget with it. “He was my neighbor across the hall in my dorm. One day he comes knocking at my door asking if he could borrow some salt, only to realize I’m that one young girl. But instead of, you know, being a dick and picking on the kid he noticed my stupid Voltron poster and his face just lit up. I invited him over for coffee a couple of days later and, I don’t know, he became like a brother to me. Somehow” Juliette said, smiling from ear to ear. Her dimples look a lot more noticeable when she does, Lance secretly hopes to see the sight a lot more.

“That’s amazing, he sounds like a great guy.” He said, pausing for a second after realizing what she said. “Wait did you say Voltron poster?” he said as he leaned forward in his seat, pointing the pen in her direction.

“Oh god, yeah?” Juliette said as she put a hand over her face, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Please don’t laugh.”

“Oh are you kidding? I used to love Voltron as a kid!” Lance said.

“No way! Who was your favorite character?” She said as she too leaned forward in her chair, excitement clear in her voice.

“It’s gonna sound stupid, but my favorite was always Lance.” He answered sheepishly.

“No man, I totally respect that. I think if there was a character with my name in a show that was as cool as he was that they’d be my favorite too.” She said as she smiled at him.

“Who was yours though?” He asked.

“Princess Allura. I think she might have been my first crush as a kid as well.” Juliette said as her cheeks turned just a little redder.

“Wasn’t she everyone’s?”

“Fair point.” She said as they both laughed about it.

Small talk like that continued for another 20 minutes until Lance’s watch beeped and the session was over.

“Well, I suppose that’s it for this session. Do you feel the need for another one?” Lance asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Honestly, this is exactly what I needed. Thank you Dr. Sweets.”

Juliette said.

Something about Juliette addressing him so formally didn’t sit right with him. Not after the talk they just had.

“You don’t have to keep calling me Dr. Sweets, Sweets is fine, everyone does it. Or Lance! Whatever you prefer!” He said, trying to hide his nerves with a smile.

Juliette looked at him with a blank expression for a few seconds, but just as he was about to take his words back she smiled at him and started speaking. “All right, will do!” She said as she got up and put her jacket back on.

Lance got up as well, going to open the door and let her out. “We uh, I- I was wondering if you would want to get some lunch one of these days. At the diner maybe? I really liked our little chat.” He sputtered out, rubbing a hand behind his ear.

“Believe it or not, I’ve never been to that diner before. Hodgins has been yapping about the French toast for months now, so I believe it’s only fair to give it a try.” She said as she turned her face towards him “I’d love to, is what I’m trying to say.”

Somewhere deep inside of him, his heart was doing flips at the confirmation, but he tried to keep as cool as possible. “Awesome, I’ll uh, I’ll text you some dates then?” He said as Juliette walked out of the door.

“Perfect, I’ll wait for those then! Thanks again for this by the way. The others don’t know what they’re missing out on.” She said as she put a hand on his arm. Lance almost froze on the spot, having to reboot his brain after the sudden contact.

“It’s my pleasure, truly.” He said as he smiled at her. “I’ll see you soon then?”

“Definitely, bye Lance!” She said as she smiled at him and turned around towards the exit.

“Bye!” He managed to get out as he stood there, brain short-circuiting over the way she had said his name.

It might be his new favorite sound, now that he thought about it.

Chapter Text

Juliette had an after-work routine that she very much enjoyed. She would come home, change out of her day clothes into something more comfortable, and get dinner started. Dinners would be planned the week before, making shopping easier and quicker. After dinner, she’d do the dishes and do something that would give her some inner peace. Her work could become very heavy, especially emotionally, which meant she had to unwind properly or else it would become too much. This night was no different, she had opted for a night spent on the couch, reading a book while her cat was purring peacefully on her lap. The sounds of purring and pages being turned were suddenly interrupted by a notification on her phone. She put down her book and flipped it over so the screen faced her.

Dr. Sweets

Hey! Sorry to disturb your evening, was wondering if you wanted to get lunch tomorrow?

Lance had asked her out for a spot of lunch at the diner two weeks ago now, right after their appointment. But nothing had been planned so far. Juliette had just thought he had forgotten, not sure if she should have brought it up herself. Ultimately she had dropped the thought, so this was a pleasant surprise.

My lunch breaks are at 1.

Does that work for you?

There was a moment of silence as she stared at her phone. Waiting for a response to appear.

1 is perfect! I’ll come and pick you up at the lab!

See you tomorrow!

See you!

Now that that was out of the way, she was glad to go back to her book. However, not before she changed Lance’s contact info to ‘Lance Sweets’.

The morning went by in no time. Once she could get started on a reconstruction, it was hard to stop. Time seemed to slow as she meticulously and carefully shaped the clay under her fingers. There was something spiritual, almost magical about it to her. You start with a skull and through it, you will a face, an entire person, into existence.

Sculpting had been her art of choice for a long time. Her mother was also an artist, but her specialty was painting. And they were gorgeous. As a kid Juliette would stare at them for hours, picking out the little details in the background and her mind could never under how that was done by hand. Even after the many times of watching her mother work, it never ceased to amaze her.

Juliette knew how to paint, she wasn’t bad at it. But sculpting has something that painting could never properly satisfy. The way you could go from this shapeless blob of clay, and manipulate it into something almost alive. It was exhilarating for her.

She didn’t realize how deep in thought she had gotten until she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. The contact made her jump in her seat, but as she whipped around to see who it was she found Lance.

“Jesus fucking Christ Lance! You scared me half to death!” She said as she placed a hand over her heart in dramatic effect.

“Sorry! I called your name a couple of times but you weren’t responding.” He said sheepishly.

“Right, I get kinda… in the zone sometimes. You know?” She said as she tucked some hair behind her ear. “But I’m good to go, lemme just get my jacket and bag.” She crossed the room and put her jacket on, and with her bag around her shoulder, she returned to the psychologist.

“You have an umbrella? It’s raining pretty hard out there.” Lance said, and only now did she notice the umbrella in his hand. It was big and dark blue with a beige edge.

“Uh, no. I do not. But it’s fine, I walk in the rain all the time.” She said, waving a hand at him.

Lance gave her a questionable look. “You know it’s literally pouring out there right?”

“Shit. Well, you better share yours then.” She said as she walked out of her office, looking around for Angela. She spotted her in Hodgins’ bug room and started internally screaming. She knocked on the side of the door opening, catching both of their attention. “Hey Ange, sorry for interrupting. Just wanted to let you know I’m going to get some lunch at the diner.”

“All right, enjoy!” Angela said, as kind as ever. But when Juliette looked over to Hodgins she could see a hint of evil in his eyes.

“You know you’re gonna have to come in here at some point, right?” Hodgins said gleefully, flashing her a devious smile. She could see Angela rolling her eyes while smiling at the never-ending bug room banter Juliette had with him. 

“Not while I’m alive. All right, see ya!” She waved her goodbye and turned back to Lance who gave her a puzzled look.

“What was that about?” He said as they started walking towards the exit.

“Oh that, uh, I’m kind of deadly terrified of bugs. Which Hodgins finds insanely amusing of course. He has been trying to get me into the bug room for a while now but I avoid it like the plague.” When she looked at him she was met with an amusing look. “What?”

“Oh nothing, lots of people are afraid of bugs. About 6 percent of U.S. citizens have entomophobia. Approximately. So yeah, you’re not alone.”

“Yeah.. well. Not going in there. Ever.” She said confidently, giving him a pat on the arm. They walked outside and were met some of the heaviest rain she had seen in a while. It must’ve started after she arrived. It had been clear in the morning.

“Wow, okay. Yeah, you better let me share that umbrella.” Juliette said to the psychologist, who happily obliged. He opened the umbrella and placed it above their heads. But after a few minutes of walking Juliette’s side was getting slowly but surely soaked. She grabbed onto his arm, making sure she could stay under the umbrella but felt the man stiffen under her grip. “Sorry! I didn’t think about what I was doing.” She said as she let go of his arm.

“No! No, it’s fine! You just startled me. Please, go ahead.” He said nervously. Slowly and gently she held onto his arm again, linking them by the elbow. With her other hand, she held her jacket closed by the collar. Neither of them really spoke, both of them focused on staying upright on the rainy streets. After a good 5 minutes, they arrived at the diner.

“Here we are!” Lance exclaimed as he put his umbrella in a rack. Both of them took off their jackets and took a seat in a booth. The place was nice and very cozy, accentuated by the heavy downpour. The place was pretty much empty, two other people were sitting across the diner. It was comfortably warm and the smell of coffee hung in the air.

“Here you go.” Lance said as he handed her a menu.

“Thanks.” She replied as she smiled at him. They both scanned the menu in silence. Juliette had already decided she was going to get that French toast, but it was nice to know what else they had at least. There were a good amount of items that didn’t contain meat, which was good in her eyes. They also seemed to have plant-based milk, which again was amazing for her. She was wondering why she hadn’t come here earlier, but it didn’t take long to remember why. She simply hadn’t felt like coming alone. Inviting herself to come along with the others also wasn’t exactly fun. After a minute or so she put the menu down, Lance did the same a few seconds later.

“So, what you getting?” He asked. He was wearing a sweater vest over his shirt instead of the usual blazer get-up. It looked good.

“French toast. Hodgins has been hyping it up for months now, it’s only fair that I give it a try. What about you?”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” Lance said in a whiny tone. “I can’t choose between French toast or a burger and fries.”

The sight reminded Juliette of the times she had gone out with her mother and brother. Juliette had always known what she wanted, but her little brother was rather indecisive. Often he couldn’t choose between two or three things. Her mother always had a little trick up her sleeve.

“Pick one.” She said to the man, holding out her pointer and middle finger. He looked up to her, then at her fingers and gave her a questioning look.

“What?” He asked puzzled.

“My mom always did this when my brother couldn’t choose. Just pick a finger.”

Lance looked at her face again and then back at her fingers. He hesitated for a moment before touching her pointer finger. “That one.”

“All right. You’re having the burger and fries.” She said, putting down her fingers. Lance looked even more puzzled.

“What just happened?” He said, a smile spreading across his face. He has nice teeth, Juliette hadn’t noticed that before.

“I assigned each of my fingers one of the choices and had you choose. Thus randomizing your pick.” She explained. “My mom used to say it was the universe helping through her fingers.” A soft smile appeared on her face at the memories. Lance remained silent although a smile was also visible on his face, pushing his rosy cheeks slightly upwards. His smile, however, had an edge of sadness to it. Juliette couldn’t ponder about it too long because the server appeared with a cheery smile and a notepad in hand.

“What can I get for you guys?” She said.

“You go first.” Lance said, hand gesturing towards Juliette.

“Right, I’d like the French toast and a white mocha, please. But could I get that with oat milk?” The server nodded as she wrote down the order. “No problem, I’ll put that down with oat milk for you. What about you dear?” The older woman asked Lance.

“A black coffee and the cheeseburger please.” He answered, handing both their menus to the waitress. “Thank you.” They both said in unison as the waitress left their booth.

“So, you have any other siblings?” Lance asked to break the silence.

“Nope, just my little brother.” She answered.

“You guys have a big age gap?”

“Yeah, 8 years. He just started high school actually. What about you? Any siblings?”

“Nope, only child.” He said as he leaned back a little, crossing his legs.

The conversation fell silent again for a moment, Juliette never really knew what to say when people said they didn’t have any siblings. “Are you sad about that?” She asked, hoping to get to know the psychologist better.

“To be honest? Yeah. I wish I could’ve had someone around. I didn’t exactly have a lot of friends as a kid.” He said sadly, a hint of shame in his voice. Lance was staring ahead of him, seemingly to nothing. It was a bit of a heartbreaking sight. But Juliette could do nothing but relate.

“Hey. If it makes you feel a little better, me neither.” She said as she leaned forward and met his gaze, offering him a reassuring smile. He gave her one back, and the feeling of mutual understanding swept between them. It couldn’t last long because the waitress came back with their coffees.

“White mocha with oat milk for the lady, black coffee for the gentleman. Enjoy! I’ll be right back with your food.” The older woman said to them, and with a bright smile walked off to do her job. They both thanked her again. Juliette stirred her coffee and gave it a taste. It was good, but Juliette had quite the sweet tooth so she reached for the sugar. Only to find it in the hands of the psychologist.

“You want some?” He asked after he saw she was looking for it.

“Yes please, give me a spoonful.”

“Spoonful of sugar for the lady.” He said in an overly chivalrous voice.

“Why thank you.” Juliette said in the most exaggerated posh voice she could muster. A comfortable silence came over them again. Both of them were sipping their drinks in silence and watching the rain come down outside. After what felt like no time their food arrived. Juliette’s French toast looked amazing. The bread had been cut into strips, fried until golden and crispy on all sides and covered in cinnamon sugar. A little cup of whipped cream sat on the side. Either Juliette was very hungry, or this food was practically glowing. She picked up her utensils and dug in, and it was truly as good as it looked, sweet and salty flavors melted on her tongue. She looked up at Lance who was also enjoying his burger. Both his burger and fries looked good. Nice and crispy and lightly salted. He met her gaze and swallowed his mouthful of burger.

“Want a taste?” He said as he angled the burger in his hands towards her.

“Oh no thanks, I don’t eat meat. But I’d like to steal a fry if that’s okay?” She said.

“Yes, of course, go ahead!”

She picked a fry from his plate and put it in her mouth. It was nice and crispy and perfectly salty.

“You vegetarian then?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, have been forever actually. Mom’s a bit of a hippie and I suppose I am too. Like mother like daughter or whatever they say.”

“She sounds cool, your mom.” Lance said, a sad smile again.

“She is. She’s really nice as well. It’s like, if I could be like her when I’m older I’d have lived a good life.”

“Mhh, I get that.”

The conversation died down again after that, both their minds going to eating rather than talking. This diner was quickly going to the top of her list, and she was already mentally planning her next trip. Again a comforting silence fell over them. They ate their lunches and Juliette savoured every bite. Lance was done before her, and he neatly put his fork and knife on his plate. He finished every bit of food, except for some leftover pieces of tomato. After another two bites her French toast was gone and she was sipping at the rest of her coffee.

“You don’t like tomatoes?” She asked, looking at the leftover pieces on his plate. A look of shame flashed across his face that made her feel guilty for not checking her tone. “No I’m sorry, I just mean. If you don’t like them, I’d love to eat them.”

“Please go ahead.” He said as he slid his plate over to her. As she started picking up the pieces he continued. “It’s not that I don’t like the taste. It’s just, the way it feels in my mouth makes me feel sick.” He was picking on a loose thread on his shirt, seemingly a nervous habit.

“Eggs. Hard-boiled eggs. The yolk makes me gag. So, I get it.” She snacked on another piece of tomato. “Why don’t you ask them to take it off?”

“I guess I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Mhh, I don’t think you are. I mean, I asked for oat milk.”

“Yeah but you probably have a good reason for that. Better than not liking the texture.” He said as he looked at the rain on the window.

“Not really. I mean sure I get a bit of a stomach ache if I consume too much dairy but I just like the way oat milk tastes.” She paused for a second and joined him in looking at the rain, face resting on her hand. “All I’m saying is, if it makes you feel bad why inconvenience yourself with it?” From the corner of her eyes, she could see him looking at her but her gaze stayed focused on a water droplet running down the window. “Besides, if you’re not ready for that, you can always just give them to me.” Finally, she met his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile, one she got back in full force. Rosy cheeks and all.

“Thank you.” Lance said softly. Juliette gave him a smile that made her nose crinkle.

“So did you two enjoy the meal?” The waitress said as she startled them out of their moment and began clearing up their plates and cups.

“Yes, it was lovely, thank you.” Juliette said. Lance also praised the food and asked for the bill.

“It’s my treat. Just as a- as a thank you I guess. For being nice to me.” The statement made Juliette feel like she could actually hear her heart shatter into a million pieces. She knew the rest of the team could be a bit mean but if he felt like this they were really pushing it. It made her want to hug him tight and protect him from everything bad the world had to offer. But for now, all she could do was talk.

“Of course. You’re my friend.” Yeah. He was her friend now. There was something about this dorky psychologist that felt safe and familiar. And if anyone would be fit to be friends with her, it would be Lance Sweets.

“Friends. Yeah, I’d like that.” Lance responded, cheeks just a shade pinker than a moment before.

Chapter Text

The diner meet-up had happened again the next week, and the week after that. It had become a moment Lance looked forward to all week, anticipation so high it almost had him slacking at work. Nothing could ever truly break his focus when it came to psychology, of course, his love for it went too deep for that. However, after the few shared lunch breaks and quick chats whenever he was at the lab, he was hungering for more. So he came up with a plan. There was a slight chance he was going too far, moving too quickly with their friendship. It wouldn’t be the first time he had scared people off with his eagerness to make a friend. But it felt different for Juliette, she felt genuine. It didn’t seem like she was being friends out of pity, or because she felt like she had a responsibility to be. There had been multiple occasions where she had texted him, rather than the seemingly never-ending opposite scenario. And every time he would see her name light up his phone screen, he felt a surge of adoration bubble up from deep inside of him.

And so he found himself in the lab once again, helping the many scientists solve yet another case. This one involved an outhouse, a rather undignified end for a man uncovering the secrets of infidelity for the world to see, and somehow the discussion of open relationships. It was hard sometimes to stop analyzing every little move Booth and Dr. Brennan made, especially when he could so clearly see the meaning behind every little interaction. It bothered him sometimes how he knew how all these people worked, knew how they showed their kindness and happiness and just about every emotion you can think of, but that no one in the entire world could say the same about him. Some people used to, years ago. His mom could pretty much sense it when he was sad, immediately cupping his chin and giving him some apple slices to cheer him up. His pop would place a firm hand on his shoulder and sometimes pull him in for a strong hug. It was little things like that, that made him feel seen. But since they died he had felt invisible.

So for now he would observe. Observe Booth and Dr. Brennan, and more recently, observe Juliette Dupont. A mental list had formed about her. Her likes and dislikes, random facts, just anything to do with her would be filed in his mental filing cabinet. Her hair would always be in a braid when she worked to keep the long golden curls from falling in her face. Never ponytails or buns, she had mentioned having a very sensitive scalp and tight hairstyles giving her bad headaches. Her favorite fruit was plums, but only when the season was right. She collects rocks and crystals and shells, often coming home with several after a trip. Juliette Dupont was like a mystery slowly unfolding itself inside his head, and he wanted more. He wanted to understand and know everything about her that there was to know. He felt an intense aching need to be closer to her, and he didn’t know how to get there without scaring her off like he always did with people. So, he would start with dinner.   

The group discussion had ended and new leads had come forth. The various scientists fled from Angela’s and Juliette’s workspace to go do whatever it is they do. Angela had left as well, leaving to go with Cam to get some paperwork in order. Thus leaving Lance and Juliette alone in the room that suddenly felt too big and quiet. She was wearing her grey lab coat and was beginning to tie her hair into a braid again, a few stray pieces popped out here and there.

“That was certainly productive, wouldn’t you say?” She said as she started walking towards her little desk, still actively braiding her hair.

“Yeah, I’d say.” he paused for a moment, hands in his pockets. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot in a nervous manner. “Juliette, can I ask you something?” He asked as he watched her turn around to look at him, sitting with her legs crisscrossed on her chair.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“So I was wondering, would you like to come over for dinner one of these days? We can watch a movie or play some games maybe?” Lance asked as he absent-mindedly pulled on a thread on his sleeve.

“That sounds like a good time, I’m in! Hold up let me just-“ She said, giving Lance a bright and warm smile as she pulled a little notebook from her bag that was sitting on the floor next to her. It was bigger than his, with all kinds of colorful tabs. When she opened it a glimpse revealed pages upon pages of neat handwriting. She flipped to the calendar part of the notebook and looked at some of the things written on there, almost every day had some writing on it, but he was too far away to read any of it.

“How about Thursday? I know that’s kind of short notice but my brother is staying over during the weekend, meaning we’d have to wait ‘till next week.” Juliette continued as she looked up from the little purple planner again.

“No, Thursday is perfect! Thursday is good. So let’s say 7:30 at my place? I’ll text you the address.” He said as he shot her an awkward finger gun.

“Sounds like a plan.” She said as she jotted down the plans in her planner. “All right, now back to solving murder. I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely. Bye!” Lance said as he practically strode out of the artist’s office, saying goodbye to the various other scientists he had come closer to.

When he got to his car, he got in and took out his notebook from his front pocket, and messily wrote down ‘dinner with Juliette 7:30’ as a reminder to write it on his calendar at home. Not that he would need to be reminded. The event would in fact not leave his brain for the next two days. The rest of the week would be spent stressing over what to cook and obsessively cleaning his apartment. He had spent multiple times debating whether or not to store away his action figures for the night, lest they would weird her out, only to remind himself she was secretly a geek as well and that she probably wouldn’t judge him for them.

Thursday comes around, and Lance is a nervous wreck all day. Over the previous days, he had shot Juliette a few messages. He sent her his address and asked for more dietary requirements apart from her being vegetarian and asked her if she liked cacio e pepe. And when he got a very excited text confirming she not only liked but loved the dish, he went to the store and got the ingredients. At the store he got another great idea, why not make dessert as well? A simple chocolate mousse could never hurt, and he knew his mother’s recipe by heart. The current state of the case was good, everything was going swimmingly and Lance found himself in the artist’s office once more, staring at a screen as it was currently fixing the image right in front of them. Juliette was standing next to him, intensely analyzing what was happening on the screen.

“And there you have it! You are busted, Billy.” Angela said with a smirk as she turned around in her chair. The screen zoomed in on the faces present and a tattoo on the lower back of the woman.

“Holly admits it’s her in the picture, but insists she didn’t kill him.” Dr. Brennan said, tone as monotone as ever.

The cogs in his brain came to life again as he heard Brennan’s words. “Well, if denial is severe enough, she might actually believe that.” He said just as Hodgins and the newest squintern walked in. Daisy was a bit obnoxious but obviously meant well. Juliette clearly couldn’t stand her, but tried her best not to show it too much.

“I know what was used to cram the picture down his throat.” Hodgins announced as he barged into the room.

“Because of what I found!” Daisy butted in, trying to show off. “Hi, Dr. Brennan!”

“I don’t fraternize at work.” Brennan quickly said. Lance could see Juliette suppress a chuckle from the corner of his eye. She was looking at Angela while she did it, they were clearly having a wordless conversation. Everyone knew Brennan in fact, did fraternize at work.

“Daisy found the fractures on the saggital suture, which contained some particulates.” Hodgins explained, but was interrupted by Daisy once again. “Told you.” She said, which had Juliette rolling her eyes. Hodgins continued his explanation, albeit in an annoyed tone. They are chlorinated polyethylene. It’s the rubber used on the tail of a microphone. The copper wire we found inside his intestine was from inside that rubber cap.”

It was like everyone started connecting the dots at the same time. “Putrescent gasses forced the wire into the esophagus, and the buoyancy of the outhouse sewage caused it to migrate up the digestive tract…into the intestine.” Dr. Saroyan concluded.

“Well Holly had access to the microphone.” Juliette added, making a fair point.

“She’s small. Do you think she could have upended a 180-pound man and placed him in a poop pit?” Dr. Saroyan added.

Suddenly Dr. Brennan pointed to Juliette, startling her slightly before she started speaking. “You’re her size, pick up Dr. Sweets and turn him upside down.”

The casualness of the request had both of them fumbling for words momentarily, before Lance spoke up, his face a little redder than it was before. “What? That’s not gonna happen.”

“No, It’s not. I don’t wanna hurt him. Besides, I’ve been taking self-defense classes for years, I know more than one way to pick up a man twice my size. I doubt Holly knows the same.” Juliette explained, almost too calmly. There wasn’t any room for any discussion regarding the statement, however, as Daisy started to charge towards him with determination.

“I’ll do it, I’m small too.” she said.

“Oh, no. No.” Lance started saying as he placed a hand on her forehead. Stopping her from grabbing him. He could see Juliette’s shocked but amused expression at the exchange. “No. No, you don’t. You don’t. You don’t. That’s fine.” He blurted out as he pushed her back to where she was originally standing, the air around the room got tense as his embarrassment kicked in. Hodgins gave Daisy a quick “nice” when she returned next to him, but everyone quickly went back to work mode.

“So, it’s probably not Holly.” Dr. Saroyan started. “Anyone else have access to the equipment?”

“The print was e-mailed to somebody.” Angela noted.

Surprisingly, it was Juliette who made the next comment.

“The murderer was surprised and enraged by that image.” Everyone looked at her for a second, she didn’t tend to make comments of that nature during cases. But she had mentioned wanting to be more active during the discussions over lunch once, so it wasn’t the biggest surprise in his eyes. She quickly grew uncomfortable by the sudden attention towards her. “What? I read psychology books sometimes…” She explained as she looked away from the many eyes.

“Really?” Lance asked her, voice laced with just a little too much adoration. She had mentioned her appreciation of psychology as a science, but had never discussed actively soaking up the knowledge around it. His comment got her attention back to the room, but more specifically to him.

“Yeah.” She said softly, a hint of a smile on her face as she crossed her arms. Lance tried to give her a reassuring smile, but couldn’t help but notice some of the looks the people in the room were giving them. Thank god for Dr. Brennan and her focus on the case, or the silence could’ve gone on forever. Although, Lance wouldn’t have minded looking into those brown eyes just a little longer.

“But Holly wouldn’t be surprised. She knew she slept with Bill.”

“Right. But someone who was either sleeping with O’Rourke or Holly might have seen this.” Lance added. “The image triggered the killer’s rage,-“ He continued as he looked at Juliette, who was smiling at the acknowledgment of her statement. “There’s only one way to avenge that violation. The killer had to make sure that this image died with O’Rourke.”

“That’s brilliant.” He heard Juliette say under her breath, she was still looking at him. It made him feel warm and appreciated, resulting in a big beaming smile coming her way.

“I know who did it.” Brennan said suddenly as all eyes once more went to her.

She was right of course, it had been the victim’s best friend. who in his own words ‘just lost it’. And that was the sad truth of it all. Murders often were sad acts of emotion. But that made them that much more interesting to study from a psychological standpoint. Lance didn’t have a lot of time to let it simmer in his mind, the sound of his doorbell taking him out of his thoughts. The pasta was cooking on the stove, so he just walked over to the intercom by his door and pressed the talking button.

“Hello?” he asked, needing confirmation this was Juliette before accidentally letting in a random stranger.

“Hi, It’s Juliette.” He got back.

“Come in! it’s floor 4. Apartment 412.” He said as he pressed the button.

It took another few minutes, courtesy of his slow and old elevator, but eventually, he heard a knock on his door. He threw his kitchen towel over his shoulder and went to open the door. The sight that greeted him was one he never hoped to forget. Juliette was standing in the doorway, she was wearing her usual leather jacket, red bag across her chest, and she was wearing a long ankle-length denim skirt. Her hair was in a half-up half-down style, with a little braid to tie it all together. She had an additional bag on her shoulder, and out of it peeked some flowers and what seemed to be something wrapped in red tea towels. Her entire get-up made him feel very underdressed in his jeans and crewneck. Even his simple slippers felt ridiculous.

“Hi! Come in!” he said as he cleared the way for her. She started to walk past him but caught him off guard by placing a kiss on each of his cheeks. Well, maybe a kiss was saying much, it was merely their cheeks touching for not even a second. It had his stomach doing backflips either way.

“Hello.” Her tone was way too casual for what just occurred. Lance was almost frozen on his spot. He barely managed to close the door.

“What was that?” He asked, still taken aback by the gesture. Juliette looked up at him from where she was taking off her shoes, confusion clear on her face.

“What was what?” She asked as she gently placed her shoes on the rack next to his.

“You know, the.. Yeah.” He struggled, simply pointing to each of his cheeks, still feeling the contact they had made.

“Oh, faire la bise.” She once again said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Huh?” Lance asked, not even knowing what language he just heard.

Juliette looked up from where she had placed her bag on one of his kitchen table chairs, taking off her jacket to reveal a green knitted sweater with a white dress shirt peeking out from under it.

“Sorry, it’s just kinda what you do in France. Old habits die hard I guess. I won’t do it again if it bothers you!” she quickly added, clearly picking up the vibe as disapproving rather than confusion. 

The statement had Lance even more confused though, nothing making any sense in his brain. “France?”

Now it was Juliette’s turn to be confused. “Yeah?… I’m sorry but what is happening right now?”

“A big misunderstanding I think.” Lance answered with a bit of a chuckle as he walked back to his kitchen. “What does France have to do with this? if I may ask?” he asked as he stirred his pot of boiling pasta.

“I was born there?” Juliette responded, letting out a laugh at Lance’s expression going from confusion to absolutely baffled.

“What?! Since when?” He turned around to look at her, the wooden spoon he was using to stir falling into the pot of water with a splash

“Uhm… October 17th, 1986?” She said, amusement clear on her face. “You’re telling me you honestly didn’t know?”

“No! I thought you were American!”

“I have American citizenship. But no, I am very much French. Parents moved here when I was 6.” She said as she took a seat on one of his kitchen chairs, smiling at him.

“Does everyone just know this?” He was hoping the answer wouldn’t be yes, he was starting to feel a bit like the butt of the joke.

“The fuck do I know? I don’t exactly go around saying it to everyone. It doesn’t really matter anyways.” She laughed.

“No, I mean, of course it doesn’t matter. I just…feel stupid that I didn’t know.” He said, breaking their eye contact.

“Hey, I mean, I never told you. So I guess you couldn’t have known. I bet there’s lots of people that don’t know.” It was an attempt to not make him feel like a fool. “Besides, I think there’s plenty of things we don’t know about each other… yet.” She flashed him another smile, the one that made her nose crinkle a little, and Lance started wondering where Juliette got the ability to make his worries melt away with a single smile. But here he was, smiling from ear to ear in his kitchen.

“Hey, do you have a vase for this?” Juliette asked suddenly as she pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Lance recognized yellow roses, pink tulips, and some white baby breaths.

“Juliette, you didn’t have to do that!” Lance said, almost embarrassingly whiny.

“No, but I did. Now, do you have a vase or not? I don’t want them to wilt.”

Lance left his kitchen area and took a simple glass vase from a cupboard somewhere in the living room. He placed the vase in the middle of the kitchen table, before taking the bouquet from the artist’s hands and carefully removing the wrapping. “Thank you, these are beautiful.” He said as he neatly placed the flowers in the vase. They seemed almost suspiciously perfect for how big the vase was, Lance just silently thanked whatever deity was out there for the coincidence. The vase was a gift from his mother, she had given it to him right after he moved out. He had used it one single time when it was his mom that had given him a bouquet. After that, it was retired to the cupboard never to see the light of day again. It kind of warmed his heart that he got to use it again now, somewhere out there he could see his mother smiling brightly at the use of it.

“A family friend has a little flower shop not too far from here. I go there every week or so for my own bouquets and plants. So I thought, why not bring Lance one as well?” Juliette said as she perfected the position of some of the flowers. She tied the ribbon that originally held the bouquet together around the vase, making a perfect bow at the knot. His apartment, however nicely decorated it was, lacked color. Most of his furniture and decorations were very neutral in tone. This made the bouquet, and also the woman at his kitchen table, stand out that much brighter in its midst.

“You get flowers every week?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“What can I say, I’m a creature of habit. Started doing it in college, kind of as an excuse to get out and socialize a bit, and I never stopped doing it.” She said as she was finally satisfied with the placement of the flowers. “Oh! I also made this. I thought, you know, pasta needs some good bread.” When Lance looked over he could see the tea towel-covered abject was a homemade loaf of bread.

“You made bread? That’s- that’s… you didn’t have to.” Lance said, feeling slightly defeated. He never got stuff from others, and here comes this girl with her flowers and homemade bread, and all of a sudden the thing he craved seemed like too much.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m going to eat half of this loaf tonight as well. This isn’t just for you buddy.” The pointed finger targeted at him was entirely playful, and it made him feel better.

“Good, I don’t want you putting all this effort in when I’m supposed to be the host tonight. I want you to sit here and relax. Now, do you want anything to drink?” Lance says as he clasps his hands together.

“Just water is good for me!”

After one more look at the boiling pasta, he took a glass out of a cupboard above him and filled it with some cold water from the fridge. He was given a small thank you as he handed the glass to the artist.

“Do you mind if I have a look around?” Juliette asked after a few seconds of sipping at her water. Lance was just getting started on the pasta sauce, so he couldn’t hover next to her and worry himself to death with potential judgment.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He called over his shoulder, trying to sound as careless as possible under all the nerves he could feel taking over. His kitchen chair made a scraping sound as the woman got up, and then footsteps could be heard over the buzzing of the kitchen. Lance spared a quick glance and saw her looking at some of his framed pictures on the wall. She seemed to be looking at one where Lance would’ve been around 10, the picture was taken on one of their holidays. His smile is bright and genuine as his parents take him in for a surprise hug. It was one of his fondest memories. He couldn’t reminisce on it for too long, as Juliette had started moving to some of his action figures. He had bought a special glass cabinet for all of his ‘nerd stuff’, the idea had been his Pop’s, so he could show off his various collectibles without them getting all dusty and dirty. Now, however, it seemed exceptionally silly. He started draining the pasta water when he heard the woman speak up.

“Dude! These are awesome! They must have cost a fortune.” The statement made Lance aware of the sudden warmth in his cheeks, but that was probably just the steam from the pasta water, right?

“Oh, thank you! I’ve been collecting them since I was a teenager, so there’s definitely a lot of them.”

“No, that’s so cool. I’m so jealous.”

Lance started putting together the pasta and the sauce, and was about to ask her to come sit at the table before she beat him to it.

“All I’m saying is, if you ever wake up one day and they’re all gone. It was not me.” She gave him a devilish smile before making her way over to the table again. Her blonde curls bounced with the sway of her step in the most mesmerizing way. But Lance couldn’t look at them for long, he had a dinner to put together. When Juliette sat down again, he could feel her gaze burning into his body. Every little move he made was being tracked, and it almost made him drop the pot as he brought it over to the table.

“There we go. Could you hand me your plate please?” One of his dark blue plates was handed to him, and he placed a very generous serving of pasta onto it, making a nice swirl in the middle. Or at least he tried. It looked a little messy, but he hoped the effort was clear. When he put the plate down on the placemat in front of her he got a polite ‘thank you’ before he served himself and sat down.

“Bon appetit.” The artist said before she dug in. Lance watched her swirl the pasta around her fork and take a bite, and with bated breath, he waited for a reaction. Juliette’s eyes widened ever so slightly before they dropped close. She started nodding her head and he could hear her make little noises of appreciation. “Lance, this is amazing!” The confirmation that it was to her liking was all he needed to start eating his dinner as well. There was a short period where nothing could be heard but the two of them enjoying their meals, and the soft classical music coming from Lance’s record player.

He had been in many silences before. At work, in social settings, with people he considered friends, silence usually meant he had said something stupid. The air around them would get thick with awkwardness in those situations and he would want nothing more than to run as fast as he could and vanish off of the face of the earth for good.

This silence, however, was not like that. It was comforting and warm. It made him feel at ease, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as both of them stayed in his kitchen, with nothing but mutual understanding and kindness between them.

“Do you have a knife for this?”

Lance was pulled from his thoughts by the unexpected question, he had almost forgotten about the loaf of bread Juliette had baked for them.

“Yes! Hold on just a sec.”

He got up from his seat and took a whole two steps before reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a cutting board. When he turned around he pulled a bread knife from his knife stand and placed both on his little kitchen table. With his hand, he motioned for Juliette to hand him the loaf, and she did so after unwrapping it completely from the tea towels. With careful precision, he started slicing.

“Wait, is this sourdough bread? You’re telling me you made sourdough bread?”

“Yeah! I always do. My mom got me a starter a while back and it’s been fun to kind of try it out you know?”

The smell coming from the bread was incredible, it might have been the most perfect loaf Lance had ever seen.

“Where do you even find time to do all of this? When I get home from work I just kind of plop down on my couch and I don’t leave it for the rest of the night.”

With careful precision, Lance cut several pieces of bread. He tried to make them as even as possible but didn’t quite manage to do so.

“I make time. If I don’t take the time to have these little moments where I bake bread or buy flowers or whatever, I kind of… Well, it gets bad again. I guess.”

Lance handed her a few of the slices, which she took with a small smile before averting her gaze to look at the flowers. A million thoughts were racing through his head. Even though they had a therapy session, it felt like this was the first time Juliette had opened up to him. The mystery was slowly unfolding, the knot was being untied, but now he wasn’t as sure that he wanted to know. Bad? What could that mean? There are many ways for a person to get bad, and he couldn’t ever imagine the woman before him being anything other than a confident, caring person.

It didn’t feel like they were anywhere near close enough to do a deep dive into the inner workings of her mind, so Lance opted to take a safer, less attacking approach. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to throw away what little of herself she had put out there for him.

“That’s good then. Keep doing it, if it helps.”

Yet another smile from her, and god, how did he ever live without them? When Juliette went back to eating, he took that as an opportunity to take in her face. The dimples that he loved to see whenever she smiled, the freckles and moles that scattered across her face like constellations of stars in the darkest of skies, the few pieces of gold that curled around her eyes that had escaped the confinement of her braid. It was all he could see, barely even thinking about the food he was still putting in his mouth. Before he knew it (and much too soon for his liking) both of them had finished their meals.

“That was amazing, thank you.” Juliette said after clearing the last bits of sauce from her plate with her finger.

“It was my pleasure, we should uh- we should do this again someday. If you’d like!”

“Next time at my place? Would love to show you what my little paradise looks like as well. Oh! And my cat! You could meet my cat!” Juliette said as she was sipping on her water, legs pulled to her chest as she spoke. She was always sitting in these weird positions that seemed awfully uncomfortable to Lance, always curled up or practically folded in half.

“Deal.” He got up to put the dirty plates in the sink and suddenly remembered the dessert he prepared. “Oh, by the way, do you like chocolate mousse?”

He could practically see the sparkles in her eyes after he said that. “Dude I love chocolate mousse!”

“Good, because I might have, kind of, made a way too big batch yesterday.”

“Oh do not worry about that! give me like half an hour and that chocolate mousse will be gone.” She said with a slight chuckle. “Hey, could I use the bathroom real quick?”

“Oh yeah of course! It’s the door to the left of the hallway.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

When the artist left the room, Lance took a moment to reflect on the night so far. It felt like he was doing a good job talking and stuff, if you don’t count the rocky entrance. And, Juliette had offered to do this again, at her place as well. He wasn’t sure how much she opened up her home to her coworkers, but it still felt special.

“Lance Sweets! Tell me why I just saw 3-in-1 shampoo in your shower?? Please tell me you don’t actually use that?”

“What? Why not?”

“Oh my god? Lance! You have gorgeous curls, they need more than just 3-in-1 shampoo?!”

His cheeks must have been deep red, he wanted to kind of crawl away into a hole and die of embarrassment, but there was no time for that. Juliette sighed and her face turned soft again.

“When is your birthday?”

“What?”

“I’m going to buy you some stuff, when is your birthday?”

“July 20th?”

Her face clearly showed that the answer was unsatisfactory. “Mhh, that’s too far away. Guess it’ll be an impromptu gift.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She was standing almost face to face with him now, he could faintly smell lavender coming from her clothes.

“Yeah, but I want to. And you can’t stop me”

“Well if you insist.” He said, ending the little squabble. It felt like it was best not to fight her on stuff like this.

They retreated to his couch for the rest of the night, watching a movie and eating dessert. It was nice having some company for the night, and the commentary Juliette gave on one of his favorite movies made it a lot more interesting. he felt sad when the night came to an end, but he knew it couldn’t go on forever. They both had work tomorrow, and the dead don’t stop just for a cozy night in. Before they said their goodbyes, Lance pushed some leftover pasta and dessert into her hands, and when she tried to protest he just kept insisting. He had won, but had compromised to keep the rest of the bread. Lance walked her all the way out, where he learned they lived a full 15-minute walk from each other. She actually lived right next to the park he liked to go to for his runs. Maybe he had even seen her apartment before, never knowing it was hers. No kiss was given to him when she left, but a small wave and a big smile were.

For the rest of the night and following day, Lance felt good. He felt more at ease, like he had a place he belonged to rather than being the one bothering everyone with his presence. Even during his session with Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan, he felt like nothing could get him down. Not the snide remarks or the scoffs he would surely get. Everything was going swimmingly until Booth had said something that changed everything for him.

“All relationships are temporary.” dr. Brennan had said after explaining that neither of her dates had worked out, and the topic of monogamy was grossly objectified by Booth, but Lance could’ve guessed the agent’s views on that would be rather narrow.

“That’s not true Bones.” AgentBooth had said, determination clear in his voice. The two of them were perfect for each other, complementing each other in so many ways. Both of them were idiots for not realizing that, for not realizing there was more than being partners between them. Agent Booth continued in the most caring voice Lance had ever heard. “You’re wrong, okay? There is someone for everyone, someone you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. All right? You just have to be open enough to see it. That’s all.”

The moment between the two was beautiful, but Lance’s admiration didn’t last long. As he looked at the way they looked at each other, and as he truly thought about the words the agent had just spoken, his head started to spin.

There is someone for everyone.

She hadn’t laughed at him or mocked him. Had shown genuine interest in who he was as a person.

Someone you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with.

Every moment with her had felt like the easiest most natural thing in the world. Like the stars would align and every single sound in the world would stop.

You just have to open enough to see it.

Her golden curls dancing as she walks past him. Her eyes lighting up like the most beautiful cut of amber when the light hits them. Him wanting nothing more than to soak everything about her up and never let it go. His heartbeat speeding up, his cheeks getting flushed.

That’s all.

He was the idiot for not seeing it sooner.

He was in love with Juliette Dupont.

Chapter Text

It was almost 12:30 am, but Lance absolutely couldn’t sleep. No matter how much he tried to just close his eyes and let himself succumb to sleep, his own brain wouldn’t allow it. He knew why he was feeling the way he was, he had psychoanalyzed every thought that had crossed his mind. But he just couldn’t shake the bad feelings away from him. Before he even could process what he was doing, he had put on some clothes and was out the door. Maybe a walk would help him clear his head?

The air was crisp with that beginning of fall cold, and his breath turned to fog in the air. Here and there he could see patches of leaves starting to form from where they had fallen from the trees. It should have been peaceful, empty streets filled with colorful leaves, some of his favorite songs in his ears. But it wasn’t helping.

He was just mindlessly walking the streets, not even having a destination or time to go back. He didn’t have work tomorrow so there was no worrying about going to bed on time. After a good ten minutes it started raining, and then pouring. But he couldn’t go home yet, not to the cold lifeless rooms where he felt more alone than ever. It was to his own surprise that he ended up right in front of Juliette’s apartment. He had never been inside, Lance had dropped her off a couple of times during stormy days after their dinners at his place, but he had never gotten an invitation up so far. It was fair game, there was no way she would ever feel the same for him as he does for her. But after standing in front of the building for a few minutes he pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

The call pulled Juliette out of her thoughts, she was in the middle of figuring out what to make for dinner in the coming week, but all of that became unimportant when she saw who was calling her at this hour.

“Hello?”

The man on the other side was silent for a few seconds too long to her liking, and worry immediately sparked within her.

“Hey.” His voice sounded sad and monotone, completely deviant from its usual sparkle.

“Lance? Is everything all right?”

“I- I don’t know. I went for a walk and now I’m kind of in front of your building and I guess I just wanted to let you know in case you heard something about some creep lurking around. It was probably me.” The man was rambling, not making any sense, it was a heartbreaking sound.

“Come inside.” The sadness in his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard, and it was raining buckets outside. Juliette couldn’t live with herself if she just left him out in the cold.

“No, you don’t have to- I just-“

“Please.” She was pleading, and the sincerity in her voice was enough to convince him with a single word. “Please just- just come inside. It’s raining and I don’t want you to get sick.”

A few more seconds of silence fell in between them. The man wasn’t really deciding anything, he wanted to go inside, more than anything. He was just waiting for his body to catch up with his brain.

“Okay.”

The sigh of relief that left Juliette’s body was completely involuntary, but she was so glad he agreed. “I’m on the fourth floor. Apartment 2B. I’ll open the front door alright?”

“All right.”

She listened as he entered the building, only ending the call once she was sure he was safe and sound inside. It would take him at least a minute to get to the door, even with the elevator, but she still hovered by the door. The knock that was heard was a soft one, almost sad and pathetic. One more peek through the eyehole confirmed it was actually her friend and that was all it took for Juliette to practically swing the door off its hinges.

He was soaking wet, all of his clothes were soaked, and so was his hair. A few stray droplets fell from his lashes. Lance looked, for lack of a better comparison, like a sopping wet puppy that got kicked to the curb.

“Hey.” His voice matched the way he looked, sad and lost.

“Come in.” She motioned with her hand and closed the door behind him, locking the various locks after she did. He had the curtsy of standing on her doormat as it got soaked, but Juliette couldn’t find it in her to care. “Take off your coat all right? I’m going to grab you a towel real quick.” She tried her best to give him a reassuring smile and hoped her worry didn’t seep through too much.

Lance wasn’t in any place to fight anymore, he had simply taken off his coat at the request and waited for her to come back with the towel. He took her absence as an excuse to look around. Juliette’s place reminded him of a wizard’s tower. Almost every inch of the room was covered in various trinkets that shimmered and shined under the light of the many candles and fairy lights. There were a ton of photos on her rose-colored walls, and from where he was standing he could see a few faces pop up multiple times. Also found on her walls were paintings, some of people, some of landscapes. Each of them just as beautiful. Her apartment smelled good, the scent of cinnamon and lavender being the strongest of them all. On her kitchen table,  he could see a bouquet of flowers, just like she had told him on that first dinner at his place.

God. His place. It looked like a dungeon compared to the life that was present in this room. His eyes fell upon the big bookcase to his right. Behind the many plants cascading their leaves from the shelves, he could see several familiar covers. Psychology books. Lance couldn’t help but wonder how many of them she had actually read.

It didn’t even take a minute for Juliette to get back with the towel. It was large and soft, and the prettiest shade of lavender. Smelled like it too.

“Here.” She said softly as she handed the towel over, taking the coat in return. As he took the towel through his hair and over his face, he watched her carefully drape his coat over one of her kitchen chairs. The gentleness in her actions made his heart flutter for just a moment, a welcome change from the looming storm of inner turmoil he was battling. She returned to him just as he was about done drying off what he could. His pants were drenched, but there wasn’t much to do about that. His shirt was spared from most of it, but it still clung uncomfortably to his skin.

“Lance, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

It took him an embarrassingly long amount to answer the question. A million different answers ran through his head, but none of them seemed right. He could deflect and say he was fine, but she would see right through it. If he was fine he wouldn’t be dripping water all over her floor. But he didn’t have it in him to explain everything, not quite yet. He couldn’t stand the worry in her eyes, so he dropped his gaze to the floor as his answer came out.

“No.”

It was silent after that, nothing but the pitter-patter of rain outside and the crackle of the candles. Though his gaze remained on the floor, he could see Juliette move closer to him. In a hushed tone, barely above a whisper, she started speaking again. It was soft and gentle, like she was trying not to startle an animal in the wild.

“May I give you a hug?” Her hand hovered near his arm but didn’t make contact. She was waiting for the consent, for the okay to touch him in his clearly fragile state. He gave her a slight nod, and before he knew it her arms were wrapped around his body. For a few seconds he didn’t know how to react, his arms stayed loose and floppy at the side of his body. when he finally got the useless things to work, he placed them on her back where they landed on her hair. It was soft. He allowed his head to take place in the crook of her shoulder; getting a good whiff of the golden locks as he did. It smelled fruity and sweet, like a picnic in a meadow full of wildflowers on a sunny summer day. The embrace was better than anything he had dreamed of. But it couldn’t let it go on for too long. It had to end, all good things do eventually, so he started to pull back from the embrace.

She wouldn’t let him though, her hand moving from his back to the back of his neck. Locking him in place. The other one started rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“No. No, I think you need this right now.”

And that was it. One simple acknowledgment from someone he could finally call his friend.

The dam broke, and the surge of emotions came over him like the unstoppable force of the ocean. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged, certainly not as tenderly and lovingly as this. It was probably his parents, back when they were still here. And that just made everything worse. He missed them so much, and he was so lost and alone without them. The sobs and tears came over him, and he had no way to stop them anymore. he should’ve been embarrassed, a grown man crying into the shoulder of the girl he was in love with at 1 am. But he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. He clung onto her as the sobs wrecked his body, hands digging into hair and shirt and anything they could grab hold of. Scared that if he let go even a little she would disappear and never come back. The hands on his back and in his hair were the only grounding presence throughout the many minutes they must’ve stood there. Gradually he could feel the storm clouds clear in his head, and the sobs turned into silent tears streaming freely into the oversized dress shirt the smaller woman was wearing. The thing to pull him out of his thoughts at last was a sudden presence at his feet. He pulled back from the hug to see a little orange, one-eyed cat padding through both of their legs. He wiped his sleeves over his face and made eye contact with Juliette again, whos hands were still on his upper arms.

“You good?” he obviously wasn’t, but Juliette couldn’t think of what else to ask. The man had just cried into her shoulder for 5 minutes, his clothes were still wet and he looked absolutely miserable.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” He said with a sniffle. “Sorry for that. I uh-“

“Nonsense. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Now let me get you some dry clothes before you get sick.” She was already turning away, heading to her spare room before she was interrupted.

“No, no that’s okay. I should probably head home.”

“Do you think I’m going to let you walk back in this weather, at this hour? You can stay over.” She walked back to him again, coming as close as possible. Her cat was still headbutting the psychologist’s leg, clearly taking a liking to him already.

Lance’s voice was barely above a whisper, and oh so sad. “I can’t ask that of you.”

In a moment of vulnerability, Juliette grabbed hold of both of his hands, squeezing them ever so gently. They were warm and soft to the touch.

“I am offering. Please. Stay over. I have a guest room, my brother sleeps over all the time. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you go out there again.”

The sincerity in those big brown eyes was enough to convince him.

“Okay.” He said softly.

With a final squeeze to his hands and a warm and comforting smile, Lance was left alone again. Well, maybe alone wasn’t a fair thing to say. The small orange cat at his feet was currently fighting to get his attention. He dropped to his knees and held out a hand for it to sniff. After a quick inspection, it started rubbing its head against his hand. Carefully, Lance started petting the little furball with long and gentle strokes across his back.

“Well, would you look at that?” The sudden presence made both of their heads shoot up. Juliette was back, small pile of clothes and a towel in hand. “You know, she’s usually not this friendly with people. Took her weeks to warm up to my brother like that.” Lance chuckled and got back to his feet again, graciously accepting the fabric from the artist. “So, these are my brother’s, but he’s about the same size as you so I think they’ll fit. The door at the end of the hallway is my bathroom, feel free to take a shower or a bath. use whatever you want. Seriously.”

The offer was so small, yet so big. She opened up her home to him in such a big way, he was trying not to start sobbing again at the thought.

“A shower doesn’t sound too bad. Thank you. So much.” He tried to give her the biggest smile he could muster at the moment, and retreated to the bathroom after getting one back.

Juliette watched him walk away and close the door behind him. It then dawned on her, how little she knew of the man. Sure, she knew what he liked and disliked. Knew what faces he pulled when he was thinking or disagreed with something. But he had never talked about anything big. But then again, neither had she. She wondered how it was possible to know someone on such a superficial level, and still trust them with all her heart.

She wouldn’t dwell on it too much. A nice cup of tea would do both of them good. She put the kettle on the stovetop and took out her various pots of herbs and spices. Opening up her cabinet, she started looking for the perfect mug. She went for one of her favs for herself. A deep purple cup with a lavender star on it. After rummaging through the cups some more she finally found the perfect one for Lance. A baby blue one with a little goose on the front. After giving it some thought, she was going to make a nice chamomile and lavender herbal tea. Both relaxing and calming ingredients, and very nice in flavor.

The kettle was boiling, the shower was running, and rain was still coming down outside. It should’ve been a peaceful moment. But it couldn’t still the stubborn doubt in Juliette’s stomach. Again she was taken out of her thoughts by her cat wrapping herself around her legs.

“What’s your deal? You trying to get another victim to give you treats?” 

The cat looked at her with one big green eye, giving her a little chirp. Juliette chuckled before picking the little orange ball of fur up and absentmindedly stroked her back while she watched the flames of the candles dance.

“What’s so special about this guy to you? You growled at Sam for weeks?”

The cat once again gave no answer, apart from the purring of course.

It didn’t take long before Lance had finished showering. She watched him walk back into her living room wearing her brother’s clothes. The grey sweatpants and blue crew neck fit him well enough, and some color was back in his cheeks.

“Thank you for that, it was just what I needed.” Some of that sparkle was back, and it warmed Juliette’s heart. Her cat was still purring in her arms, the kettle that was still on the stove made itself known, indicating that the water had reached the perfect temperature.

“Here, take her for me please?” Juliette asked as the little orange cat was pushed into his arms with no struggles.

“What’s her name?” He watched as she picked up the kettle, which looked like an antique. It was decorated with drawings of strawberries and blossoms. The hot liquid came out with a cloud of steam as it was poured into the cups.

“Pickle.”

"Hi Pickle, my name is Lance.” He whispered to the cat, who chirped in response. He had no pets, his building wouldn’t allow it. It must be nice to have some company like this on the lonely days. “Why did you choose the name Pickle?”

"Oh, she already had that name. Adopted her right after I moved in, they were about to put her down at the shelter but I looked into that sparkling green eye and knew she had to come home with me. She’s been my best friend ever since.” The smile Lance could see from his angle was a beautiful sight. He observed as she put in some scoops of honey in what he assumed were the mugs of tea. “Let’s go sit on the balcony. The weather shouldn’t be able to reach us there, and then we can… talk. If you feel like it.”

He could never fully say no to her, not when she gave him looks like that. Not when she looked like a peaceful starry night.

“Sounds like a plan.” He offered her a small smile and followed her to the glass door to his right. When she opened it, it revealed a small but cozy balcony, full of hanging plants, vegetable planters, and a small lounge set. Just big enough for two people and a cat. The mugs were placed on the little table and Pickle jumped onto the cushion-covered garden bench. When he took place, he watched as she turned on a small electric heater above their heads, and grabbed a few blankets from right inside the house. Even her balcony had a magical feel. The strings of plants and wind chimes were accompanied by strings of seashells that gently swayed in the wind. It reminded him of the cowy summer nights on his parents’ porch when he was a kid. His mom would bring him a cold glass of lemonade and his pops would play some games with him. Life was simpler then.

Juliette took place next to him and handed him a blanket which he draped over his shoulders. She too was looking over the park in front of them. He could see some spots he would go for runs, and tried his hardest to remember if he had ever noticed the lovely balcony before. They were both sitting with their legs crossed, Pickle had taken place in Juliette’s lap. It was blissful and peaceful, but it couldn’t last.

“So, what’s got you troubled like this?” Her gaze pierced right through him, but not in an intimidating way. It made him feel welcome, like he was allowed to spill everything he usually kept locked up. He sighed, gathering his thoughts, figuring out how to go about this.

“Angela said something today. I don’t know why it hit harder than normal, but it did.”

“Did she say something bad? Because if she did I’ll talk to her about it if you want.” He could see her put her head on her knee as she turned to look at him. But he didn’t meet her gaze, too focused on watching the rain pour in the park in front of them.

“No, no she uh- she couldn’t have known. No one does.” He paused for a moment, mentally preparing himself to rip off the bandaid and just get it out into the world. “She came to me to talk about her stuff with Hodgins, when I was having lunch at the diner. And then, to like prove her point or something she asked me if I loved my parents. Asked me if my relationship with them was unsuccessful because I don’t live with them anymore.” He had to take a deep breath in, trying his best to not start crying again. In the corner of his eye, he could see Juliette nodding at him, albeit with an arched brow. “My parents died, almost two years ago now.”

The few tears that rolled down his cheeks weren’t worth swiping away. he could feel Juliette’s hand on his arm, a firm and stable comfort during this moment. “I don’t know why all of a sudden I feel like this. I’ve been fine. But god Juliette, I miss them so much. So so much.” He finally turned and faced her. He felt like a pathetic mess, crying like a little child in front of the girl he was in love with like this, again. But it all just hurt so much. He had been so lonely.

Juliette looked him right in the eyes, and for a moment he felt like he was drowning in the dark abyss. “Grief is a weird thing. It sneaks up on you. And that sounds like an incredibly hard thing to go through on your own.” Her hand remained on his arm as a soothing presence, rubbing slight circles up and down the fabric of the surprisingly comfortable sweater.

He didn’t know what to say, he knew all of it from a logical psychological standpoint, but it didn’t make it feel any better.

“It’s just… they did so much for me. I just wish they could’ve seen what I’m doing right now. I hope-… I just hope they’re proud of me.”

“I know they are. They sound like amazing people Lance.”

Lance gave a weak chuckle at the statement. “You have no idea.” He paused for a moment, deciding just how much he was going to share today. But he was already opening up his heart, might as well get all of it out at once. “They uh… they adopted me. They adopted me as an older kid and gave me a home. A family.” He looked towards the park again, watching the rain pour on the trees as he heard Juliette stir her tea, hand now absent from his arm. Her gaze pierced through him though, ever so present. Letting him know she’s listening. “Foster care is a fucked place. It’s just- it’s fucking awful. They hurt me, a kid, just for the fun of it it seems. I still bear those scars, I still feel the hurt. I never did anything wrong, never acted out, or said anything bad. But they still hurt me.” Lance could feel the anger boiling up now, completely overtaking the sadness and hurt of before. “But my parents. My mom and pops, they didn’t do any of that. They were kind. And they gave me everything. And then they were just… gone. They were older, my pops died first. My mom died a few weeks later. At least they didn’t have to be apart too long.”

When Lance turned to her again, he had such a sad smile on his face that Juliette could practically feel her heart break into a million little pieces. Why is it that these horrible things happen to the best people? “I’m so sorry.” She whispered to him as she leaned in and put a hand on his arm. “If it helps. I’m sure that they’re still with you, watching over you. At least that’s what I like to believe.”

“I hope they are.” He said with a sad smile, finally wiping away the final tears that spilled over his cheeks. There was a comfortable silence that hung between them, but a nagging thought kept pressing into Lance’s brain.

“Juliette, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Back when we had dinner for the first time, at my place, you talked about things getting bad again. What did you mean by that?”

The question had taken Juliette completely off guard. So much so that she had to put her cup down on the table and gave in to the urge to curl herself up even more, tucking her knees into her chest. This was something she hadn’t told anyone new… ever now that she thought about it. This was like exposing her heart to another stabbing, another bout of pain and misery. But Lance had shared some of his deepest darkest stuff, it felt like she could trust him with the bad. Besides, he was a therapist. She could always psychology her way out of it.

She must’ve been in her head for longer than she thought because Lance was quickly adding to his previous statement. “You don’t have to, of course. Sorry, I was just curious. It obviously-“

“No no! Sorry. No. I want to tell you. I trust you. I just… I just had to remind myself of that.”

She saw Lance give her an encouraging nod and a soft smile. her chest felt like it was going to cave in, but she just took a big breath and told herself to let it out. Told herself it was okay, and that she could trust Lance. Pickle was silently purring next to them, and it seemed like a good time to start petting her fur. So what if it was a nervous gesture? The cat loved it all the same, exposing her belly for some sweet belly rubs.

“So, about three years ago, I got out of a long-term relationship.” Another deep breath in and out. Her therapist had said it would help. “Met her when I had just turned 17, she was 20. And in the beginning, everything was good you know? She was nice and seemed to care about me. But then… after a few months, she started to act differently. It started small, with little comments and remarks about how I acted or how I looked. Started commenting on my weight a lot, my hair as well.”

Pickle was purring, the rain was falling and she was breathing. In and out.

“I didn’t notice any of it at the time. This was my first proper relationship and I thought that was just the way things worked. Couldn’t see the manipulation and the control she had over me. She somehow made me lose every part of myself. Made me stop eating, made me stop skating. And I didn’t realize any of it. It didn’t seem too bad… until she hit me.”

She could see the shock on the man’s face, but couldn’t focus on it. Just the cat, the purring, the rain.

“It was only the one time. I uh, I ran away that night. To my mom. Confessed everything. She helped me get back on my feet, helped me get away from her. I got therapy and got better. That’s why I need my routines. That’s why I go buy my flowers and plan my meals. If I don’t, I fall back into my old harmful habits. And I have worked too hard to get better to let that happen.”

Finally she allowed herself to look at Lance, only to see tears in his eyes once more. He quickly wiped them away and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Wow. That uh… You- You’re incredible.”

The sentence and the adoration it was laced with had completely caught her off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah I mean, that is an incredibly hard thing to go through, especially at such a young age. The strength it took for you to heal from all of that. You’re incredible.”

The moonlight peeked through the clouds for just a second, and it illuminated the man’s face perfectly. It made his lashes shine like silver and his eyes look like some enchanted forest from a fairytale. It was silly, both of them on her balcony in the middle of the night. It was silly that it took all of that to see him in a different light.

“It was that or spiral and probably die. Gotta make a choice at some point. That’s when I got this rascal as well.”

She shook Pickle’s head a little for emphasis while a smile spread on her face.

“You know, I’m actually really glad we had this talk. It felt… good. Right.” She said, averting her gaze again.

“Yeah.” Lance said, flashing her a big, bright smile.

Another half hour passed on that balcony. The rain had calmed down, even though it was still raining a little. It was good, it assured Juliette that Lance wouldn’t try to go home again. They nursed their cups of tea and cleaned everything up afterwards. It felt natural and easy, like they had done it a million times before.

“So, the door to the left is my guest room. Don’t mind all the stuff lying about, I use it as kind of an art studio as well. If you need anything, please let me know.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“I’m being serious, doesn’t matter what time it is.”

“Okay. Goodnight Juliette.”

“Night Lance.”

She watched as he entered the guest room before going into her own bedroom, closely followed by her cat. As she crawled under the covers, it surprised her how calm she was about the situation. If Juliette had told this to anyone else, it would’ve meant a night of nightmares and tossing and turning. But there was something about the fact that Lance understood. He got it. He came to her for help. He trusted her, and in turn, she could trust him. It didn’t take long for her to drift off, Pickle laying above her head on the pillow, the rain still silently pattering on the window.

When she woke up again, the tiny strip of light coming through her blinds had a golden glow to it. It must’ve cleared up overnight. It took a few minutes to come to her senses, but she didn’t get more time than that, Pickle started meowing at the door to go out. Running a hand over her face she got up and opened the door, only to be met with the sounds and smells of Sunday brunch coming from her kitchen. Right, Lance had stayed over.

He was standing in front of her furnace, still wearing the clothes she had lent him last night. Her entire living room/ kitchen smelled like cinnamon and sweet goodness. There was no reason for the guy to look as good as he does fresh out of bed, she sure didn’t feel like she did. Her shirt hung off one of her shoulders and her curls were going every which way.

“Oh uhm, morning.” Lance said when he saw Juliette shuffle into the room. She looked like she was not quite on this plane of existence yet, running a hand over her face and yawning into her hand.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast.” She chuckled.

“Oh sorry I- I just wanted to say thank you. For letting me stay over. I hope I didn’t grab anything I shouldn’t have.”

Juliette just gave him a tired smile. “Nah, no worries. I do groceries on Sundays anyways. Lemme just splash some water in my face and I’ll be right back.”

Before he could even respond she had made her way to the bathroom, and he was trying his hardest not to let all the anxiety take over. She emerged again after a few minutes, face noticeably brighter and hair a little more tamed. Pickle followed her every move, and it was the best sight ever.

Lance finished up the breakfast, french toast apparently, and Juliette helped him carry it to her balcony once more. The park was bright as the golden glow of sunrise illuminated the world. it was peaceful and comfortable. Juliette allowed herself a few glances at Lance, taking in how the sunlight made him practically glow.

It was a beautiful sight, one she could truly get used to.

And it hit her right then and there, on that sunny Sunday morning on her balcony.

That maybe, just maybe…

Lance could be more than just her friend?

Chapter Text

Every time a case got solved and everything was wrapped up, the team went out for drinks. It was a little tradition that was very special to the team. Over the last few times, as Juliette got more important to the team, she got invited along. It was usually a great time. Conversation came more and more easy as time went on, and slowly Juliette let the walls around her crumble a little. It really felt like she could call the others her friends. But apparently the same could not be said for how the others viewed the psychologist of the team. 

“Once he starts it’s hard to get him to stop going huh?” Hodgins started, referring to earlier in the day when Lance had been a little too excited to explain something.

“Yeah, now imagine what that’s like when he’s your shrink.” Booth scoffed. 

It baffled Juliette that they had anything this negative to say about Lance, at all. If they had out any effort into getting to know him they wouldn’t be speaking like this.

“He’s just trying you know. Why are you being so hard on him?” Juliette defended.

“Oh come on, he’s just a kid. He needs to learn what the real world is like.” Booth fought back.

“A kid? He’s 24!” She couldn’t stop now. Not when the unfairness just continued on. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Angela and Cam giving each other a look. She’s usually not this outspoken, keeping to herself in quiet observation most of the time. It must be surprising to see her even raise her voice.

“Booth doesn’t mean a literal kid, he is merely voicing his concerns on Sweets’s age in relation to his job!” And in comes Brennan with her flawed logic. 

“Yeah, that, whatever she said. And also, he’s so… attached. Sticks to you like a little puppy-dog.” 

The statement from Booth was followed by a tense silence. Half the team looked unsure of what to say while Juliette fixed them all with a killer stare. Angela broke the silence, albeit a little tentatively.

“He is a little clingy.” 

And that got the ball rolling, a cacophony of complaints and annoyances all spilled out like everyone had been holding back. It was Oh but he’s so young and oh what does he know, why should we listen to him?  

It was infuriating. Something inside her made Juliette want to yell obscenities about how much Lance had been through, but ultimately that wasn’t her place to say. 

“Can you guys fucking stop?” Her voice was raised, and it shut the entire table up for a second. 

Juliette was nowhere near a position of power in the lab, and that would stay the same. But here? In this stupid bar with a bunch of adults mocking her friend? No. She wouldn’t stay silent for that.

“You know what? Screw you guys. I don’t wanna be here anymore.” She got up from her seat and started rummaging around her bag for some cash to pay for her half-finished beer. As she threw it on the table, another thought popped up to stop the defensive babbling of her colleagues. 

“No actually. You don’t get to talk about him like that. Lance is one of the kindest, most compassionate people I have ever met. And all he ever wants is to help you guys. And this is how you talk about him behind his back? He just wants to be your friend. Be better.”

And with that final statement, she left. Ignoring the begging from behind her not to leave; and ignoring the feeling of her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

Striding back towards her motorcycle, fuelled by anger and embarrassment, the realization of what she just did kicked in. It hit her so hard and so suddenly that she had to stop in her tracks. She just showed a side of herself that she had tried so hard to keep hidden. And that resulted in not only yelling at her coworkers in front of a whole restaurant, but also her boss. 

Was this worth it to get fired over?

But then the vision of Lance Sweets on her balcony hit her, sitting there all peacefully with the moonlight on his skin. He deserved everything the world had to offer, even more than that.

So yeah, screw it. She would yell at her boss every day if that meant his peace was protected.

But fuck, that was supposed to be her dinner. There were no leftovers at her place, and getting takeout alone at her apartment sounded like the lamest thing ever right now. Damn it.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she was calling Lance. Luckily he answered within a few rings. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, you still at work?” Lance had told her he would be doing some overtime at his office earlier. 

“Uh yeah, why?”

“Wanna go get dinner?”

“Wait weren’t you getting dinner with the team?” Shit. She did tell him about that.

“Yeah, but something fell through. So, what about Indian at your place?” 

“Oh, maybe something else? I don’t really like Indian. Sorry.” 

“No biggie . Uhm, Chinese? You like that right?” 

“I’d actually love that right now.”

“Great, meet you at your place in like 20 minutes?”

“Uh yeah, yeah sure that should work.”

“Alright, see you later then.”

“Yes. Later. Bye!”

“ Bisous .”

The call ended, and Juliette found herself not moving. 

“ Je suis fada. Je suis complètement fada. Pff. Putain. ” She muttered to herself, before stomping off towards her motorcycle and getting on her way to Lance’s apartment. 

Waiting with no ETA was one of Juliette’s least favorite things. She stood in front of Lance’s building, leaning on her motorcycle. It was at times like these when she missed smoking, but it was a bad college habit that she tried so hard to let go of. So this little hiccup wasn’t going to undo that. 

Still, unease stirred in her gut. The fingernail she was chewing was a fine substitute, though if she was chewing it out of stress or out of hunger she wasn’t sure about. 

It didn’t take that long before Lance walked up to her, leather bag slung over his shoulder. He looked tired. 

“Wow, that’s what your ride on? That’s cool.” Lance pointed to her motorcycle, apparently seeing it for the first time. It was one of her favorite things, and she had worked really hard to buy it.

“Yep, Honda ST1100 Pan European. This thing is my baby.” She gave the leather seat a pat for emphasis. 

“I love the color, that sort of dark purple, it’s so… you.” He flashed her a bright smile, with those way too perfect teeth and nice lips and, nope ! Not thinking about that !

“Thanks.” Juliette answered, smiling back at him. She ignored the blush on her cheeks as she pushed herself away from the side of her bike. “So uh, dinner?” 

“Yes! Yes. Dinner. Let’s go.” Lance pointed towards the door, and Juliette followed suit.

They were both pretty much done with their dinner. Conversation came as easy as ever, ranging from the last case to shows they both watched. But something else had sparked Juliette’s interest. Every time she’d come over, the keyboard in the corner of the room was there. The seat it was accompanied by was well used, so surely Lance would actually play.

“How long have you been playing?” She asked, tilting her head to the keyboard in question.

“Oh, the piano? Uhm, like, 17 years? I think? Yeah. Since I was 7. That’s 17 then!”

“Wow.”

“What about you? Do you play?”

“No not piano. I know guitar, love me some guitar. I’ve always wanted to learn though. I just don’t know where to start.”

Lance then got this sparkle in his eyes and looked at her with big pleading eyes. 

“I can teach you!”

And before she could even voice her objection, she was being dragged across the room. The little bench was a tight fit with the two of them, making it so that their hips were touching. Lance showed her a combination of keys that she had to repeat over and over. A nice little melody formed while she did it, but it didn’t sound like a song. Right as she was getting the hang of it, the sound in the room changed. Not because she had played a wrong note again, but because Lance had joined in. His fingers moved over the keys smoothly and swiftly, the years of practice easy to see. She tried not to feel embarrassed by the situation. Although it was a little hard considering she had seen 5-year-olds do better than her.

At some point- right when Juliette didn’t have to constantly look at her fingers to keep the notes going- she looked up at Lance. It was a magnificent sight. He was positively lost in the moment, the joy of playing coming off of him in waves. His face was one of concentration, and his movements reminded her almost of a dance.  This was probably what she looked like while skating. Out on the ice, it would feel like time itself stopped when she spun and pranced around. It was just her. It looked to be the same way for Lance. 

It was dark outside, and it felt like the entire starry night had transported itself into Lance’s living room as he finished the song. He lingered for a moment, hands still on the keyboard and eyes closed as he no doubt relished the fleeting moments of freedom that playing gave him. But then he locked eyes with Juliette, and her breathing stuttered a little. 

The stars were in his eyes now, beaming with everything she wanted. The silence was tense, neither of them dared to utter a word. Juliette let her eyes flicker to his lips for just a moment, and swiftly pushed those thoughts away. There was no reason for him to feel the same about her.

And yet, both of them inched closer to each other, like a gravitational pull of a black hole. Mercilessly sucking everything in it’s direction. 

Lance was the sun, and Juliette couldn’t help to orbit around him. 

Slowly the gap got closed, and their noses were almost touching. Just a little lean forward and-

Juliette cleared her throat and moved backward again, waves of anxiety and fear crashing into her with no warning. She had to get out of there. She had to get her thoughts in order.

“Sorry, I- I need to go home, feed Pickle you know.” 

A feeble excuse, one Lance could see right through. The disappointment on his face felt like a stab to the heart, and her logic was just screaming for her to get out of there. 

“Oh yeah, right. Of course. Can’t let the girl go hungry.” She was met with a weak chuckle as she packed her stuff and walked to the door. 

“Yeah, nope. Can’t let that happen. So I’ll talk to you later then?”

“Yeah, later.” Lance said, letting her out the door. He looked absolutely defeated.

“ Salut .” 

“Bye.” Was the last thing she heard as she sped to her motorcycle and made her way home. 

She was in for a good night of self loathing.

Chapter Text

A week. It had been a week since Juliette had dinner at his house. And Lance wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle the awkwardness. Their once lively and deep conversations had been reduced to small talk and quick sheepish smiles. 

It was agony.

When Juliette had leaned in, it felt like fireworks were going off in his head. He couldn’t figure out if he had been dreaming, or if the universe had finally granted him something.

But of course it wasn’t happening, Lance wasn’t lucky like that. Now he had messed everything up and lost his only friend in the process.

Worst of all was that his heart hadn’t quite caught up with his brain. Every time he got a glimpse of those golden locks or freckled cheeks it would skip a beat. And every time he would swallow down the affection clawing its way up his throat. 

That was over, he missed his shot.

The awkwardness wasn’t exclusive to Juliette. The day after their little piano recital the entire team acted weird not just towards him, but towards each other. Everyone was tense, no one knew how to act around each other. Especially him and Juliette. 

At first, he was terrified that Juliette had told everyone of their keyboard-almost-kissed blunder. But after a little investigation, he discovered this was luckily not the case. Whatever the case was, however, remained a mystery to him.

Their current actual case needed very little of his input. And although Dr. Brennan’s drama with her father’s employment at the lab was interesting to analyze, it wasn’t very fun when he couldn’t gossip about it. 

So, back to lonely nights filled with rewatching dumb shows. The reason Juliette couldn’t be there for those spectacular fun-filled evenings , according to her, was a visit from her brother.

Which turned out not to be a lie, despite his fears. He had seen a glimpse of a tall blonde kid with eerily similar features at the lab. She didn’t seem to be avoiding him then. That was good. Maybe there was hope for the friendship yet. 

But still, he had gotten so used to spending time with her that her sudden absence left a gaping hole in his chest.

His input wasn’t really needed for the case, so his usual schedule of patients continued. It was the last of the day, and wrapping up was going slow. He hated that patients were bound to a time slot, it was the one thing he would change about his job if he had the chance. Having to tell a crying person that their time was up would never get easier, but this was the last one for today. He didn’t have to rush her as bad.

Eventually, she calmed down and the session finished. He couldn’t lie, he was a little glad that his workday was done. The stress and anxiety of the last week had got to him about halfway through the day, and he was tired and hungry. A truly deadly combination. 

After politely ushering his patient out, and while packing his stuff, he was surprised by a knock on his office door. When he opened the door, Juliette was in front of him.

Her cheeks were all rosy from the cold, and her hair frizzy from her helmet. 

She was breathtaking. 

The sight reminded him so much of that first time she had walked into his office that his heart did a little flip. She was such a mystery to him back then, and now he knew her better than anyone in the lab. Or at least that’s what he liked to believe. There was still one thing though, why was she here at this hour?

“You don’t have an appointment.” He questioned, tilting his head a little in the process

“I’m not here for a therapy session. I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah uhm, are you busy tomorrow night?”

Really nice of her to assume he has a life.

“Uhm, no I don’t think so.” He has to play it cool, or else he’ll be friendless forever.

“Okay perfect. Midnight, meet me at my front door.” She said, pointing a finger at him.

“Midnight? What are we doing?” 

“That’s a surprise. Oh, and dress warm!” Juliette said while promptly making an exit. A smirk on her face. 

Lance stood there, dumbfounded for a moment. Okay so she wanted to hang out, that was good. But why on earth so late? There was always the possibility she was going to murder him. Cover up the blunder rather permanently. She certainly had the skills and wits for- oh my god. What is wrong with him??

Juliette wasn’t going to murder him. She was his friend. She has a surprise. At midnight. His biggest worry was what to wear. It’s the middle of December, which is where his wardrobe excels. Time to bring out the jumpers!

First, he had to go home though. Get home first, spiral later. 

Lance Sweets’ never-ending cycle.

A nudge in the right direction in the case happened, all because of him. And it ultimately led to solving the case entirely. Lance would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little proud of himself whenever he read a person right. The team had gone out for a drink and invited him along. Juliette wasn’t there, which was a little sad. But not too sad, he was going to meet her for the big surprise that night anyway. He sensed a level of unease over her absence from the others, but the will to analyze it all left his body every time he reminded himself of the ‘surprise’ of it all. What on earth could she have planned? Did he have  to bring something? What is there even to do at midnight? 

The doubt and uncertainty stayed for the rest of the evening. He went home, took a shower, and then took an obscene amount of time to get dressed just to end up wearing basically the same thing he always does. An attempt was made to make his hair look a little more, well , like effort was put into it . But his curls just wouldn’t cooperate. 

When he ended up leaving his apartment, he felt like an idiot. Putting so much effort into the way he looked for someone who had seen him sobbing on her doormat. The walk was a good way to clear his head. The cold December air was crisp, and the slight sting in his nose was a nice distraction from the thoughts bouncing around in his skull. 

When he arrived at her place, Juliette was already waiting for him. Her hair was in a braid, unruly stubborn curls escaping from its clutches. The purple bell bottoms were back, and so was her brown leather jacket. Around her arm, he noticed a big picnic basket, various things poking out from it. Was he supposed to bring something as well?

The smile that was sent his way when they met eyes made the cold feel like a breezy summer day. And he couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Hey.” He said, finally reaching her. Trying his absolute best to sound casual.

“Hi. You look nice.” Her hand lightly brushed over his jacket and Lance tried his hardest to hide the jolt his body made.

“Oh, thanks. So do you.” Thank god for the cold hiding his ever-reddening cheeks.

“Shall we?” Juliette started walking, he followed because, well, what else was he supposed to do?

“Where are we going?”

“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” Juliette had this look on her face, she looked so smug. Lance’s uncertainty grew just that bit more.

“I see, just wait and see, I presume?”

“Correct.”

They continued their walk, heading towards the park next to Juliette’s place. He knew this path well, he would run it every Sunday. 

They walked in silence. While Juliette seemed to bask in the peacefulness of it all, Lance tried to keep his discomfort at bay. It felt like they had been walking for hours when Juliette suddenly ventured off the path and strode towards a large covering of bushes. With one final smirk his way, she disappeared silently into the leafage.

Okay?

“Uh, Juliette?”

“Follow me!” A slightly distant-sounding voice called back.

“You walked into a bush.”

“Just trust me.” She emphasized.

So Lance stood there for a moment, wondering what choices he had made in life to end up right here, about to walk through a bush.

He had no time to whine about it for longer, because an impatient hand shot out of the greenery. He took it, sheepishly, before being yanked through.

When he opened his eyes from protecting them in his sudden pull, he immediately understood why the trip through the wall of green was absolutely necessary. It was like he had ended up in a fairytale. There was a big clearing before him, protected from the world by trees and bushes. In the middle was a small pond, and a big willow tree towered over it. Its leaves and branches cascaded down over an old bench, green paint chipping off of the rusty brown metal. The little spot of wonder was overgrown, but a small path had etched its way into the grass and moss. A desire path.

The very name explained enough. The desire to go somewhere, not meant to. Mending nature with nothing but love and longing to get someplace else. And here it was, in a magical clearing. In the middle of a park he saw every single week. 

Lance turned to Juliette, who met him with a smug look. 

“Okay, I admit. This was worth the branches to the face.”

Juliette made a victorious gesture before turning around and unpacking the picnic basket.

“What is this place anyway?” Lance said, continuing to look around in awe.

“It used to be a private garden for a rich family years ago, but funding dried up and the city never bothered to get rid of it. Eventually it got overgrown and forgotten.”

“How did you find it?” 

He took place next to her on the red-gingham-patterned picnic blanket, taking note of the various items she was pulling out.

“I can see the willow from my balcony. I went looking for it some night when my insomnia hit me. Found this absolute gem of a spot.”

She then hesitated for a moment before pulling out a bouquet of flowers.

“I got this for you.” 

The arrangement existed of red flowers. He recognized roses, tulips, and what he believed to be carnations. He looked at Juliette for an explanation, but found her with her head turned away from him. She kept wordlessly unpacking the basket, taking out a thermos and two mugs. The blue one with the goose was there, the same one she always gave him when he was over at her place. 

“Thank you.” He said a moment later,  after getting over his starstruck feeling. 

Juliette just smiled at him, and then she went straight back to unpacking. 

When she was finished she pointed towards a little container.

“I made some pain au chocolat , but don’t feel forced to eat them or anything.”

Lance looked at the pastries, and then back to her. He gently placed the flowers down next to him before he began speaking. “Juliette, why are we here?”

“Where having a picnic.”

“At midnight?”

Juliette chuckled and put her head on her knee, looking at him through moonlight-illuminated lashes that shone like the purest gold.

“My maman is big on astrology and stuff. She mentioned the Geminids shower while dropping off my brother the other day. So I thought, shooting star picnic.You know?”

The mention of it had Lance looking to the sky as if he had only just noticed it was there. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen, and the stars were beautiful. 

“The moon is pretty much full, but this is a heavy shower so we should be able to see plenty.”

Lance didn’t respond, a million thoughts were racing through his brain and he just couldn’t seem to pinpoint a single one of them.

“I just thought it would be nice. And it’s sort of an apology, for not really talking a lot this week. I had my brother over and then my maman -”

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Lance interrupted. 

And then Juliette looked up at him, absolutely baffled. Her eyes sparkled for a moment before she smiled, and it made the entire week of horrible awkwardness worth it.

“So when does the shower start?” He asked, shaking those thoughts off.

“Oh, it should be happening already, but it peaks in about an hour.” 

She then poured him a cup of tea, and it was as heavenly as always. The blend was steeped to perfection, hints of honey and cinnamon washing his worries away. They sat there like that for a few minutes, nursing their tea, enjoying the quiet of the night. There was nothing but the sound of rustling leaves and bugs fluttering by. 

They both moved to their backs after a while, anticipation buzzing in the air around them. Lance couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a shooting star. He remembers this hot summer night though, where his parents had sat him down on the bench in their garden. He was a teenager, and back then his mind was racked with things that seemed so futile now. But his parents always knew what to do.

So they had sat him down, given him a glass of lemonade, and told him to look to the heavens. And they had sat there for about half an hour before he had seen it. A sliver of starlight, shooting across the vast expanse of darkness. It was magical.

This felt different though, though the sight of a shooting star never became less magical, the anticipation couldn’t cover up the nerves in his stomach.

And then it happened, the first one of the night shot right across his vision. Juliette must have seen it too, an amazed sound escaped her. Lance turned his head to look at her, and she did as well. The pure glee emanating from her face made him feel warm and fuzzy, so fuzzy in fact, that he had forgotten to make a wish.

But who would need a wish when a sight like that was already available to him?

He felt paralyzed by how quickly this feeling of fondness overwhelmed him, so he fixed his gaze upon the heavens once more. Body parallel to that of Juliette’s, and they sat there. Bated breaths, waiting for another bit of magic to fall from the sky. 

But another bit of magic happened, right there on the ground with them.  

Juliette’s hand had inched closer to his, making it so the sides of their pinkies made contact. 

The sudden touch felt like sparklers on his skin, and the tenderness of it all started a roaring fire in his cheeks. 

He looked at her, but her gaze was fixed high above. 

What was happening?

Gently and softly their pinkies linked, perfectly slotting into each other. Like they had been created for that very purpose.

And then, at last, she looked at him. 

Wonder, uncertainty, bravery. All of that was reflected in her eyes. A golden curl escaped from her braid, landing right beside her eye. Lance’s body moved on instinct as his free hand tucked it behind her ear, leaving it to rest on her cheek after. 

She didn’t move away, didn’t shrug it off. In fact, she leaned into it ever so slightly.

Her skin was softer than the finest silk, and her freckles had no competition with the constellations sparkling above them. 

He inched closer, daring a glance at plush pink lips, but hesitated. This went very wrong last time.

But then her hand was in his hair, on his cheek. The back of her knuckles made circles on his jaw. 

It was mesmerizing.

Like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, she suddenly kissed him. Gentle and yet so meaningful. Nothing could have prepared him for how perfect everything felt. The fireworks were back, exploding in his mind in the brightest of colors. He could hear nothing past the roaring in his ears and his heartbeat in his throat. 

He never wanted the bliss of the moment to end. But when it did, there was no disappointment. Getting to see the look on her face kept the magic going.

“I don’t understand.” He started. Because he truly didn’t.

She had pulled away and ran off so quickly last time, he was sure she wanted nothing to do with him.

“I got scared." She started, shame clear on her face. “ After Rose, my ex. You know, everything that happened, I vowed to myself not to rush into things. I had only just realized I liked you and had no idea if you felt the same. My brain pushed a panic button. I’m sorry. For the way I rushed out. It had nothing to do with you or anything you did.” 

A little rub of her thumb against his cheek and he felt like he was melting into a puddle.

“What happens next?” He could not handle any more of the awkwardness he had experienced in the past week.

“Nothing that we don’t want.”

“Mhh.” 

He wanted so much. So much to experience and learn. Where to start?

“What I want, is to take you out on a date. Multiple ones.” He said.

“I can’t say no to that.”

“Yeah? Good. First date when? You choose!”

“Hah! Do you honestly think I’ll make it that easy for you? This is supposed to be a date after all.”

Juliette rolled away from him, smug look on her face. Everything was slotting into place in his head.

“You tricked me! You knew exactly what you were doing!” He jokingly accused her.

“Tricked you? No. Planned this whole thing to a T over the span of the last week? Absolutely.”

“You are unbelievable.” Lance laughed.

“Yeah, better get used to it.” She then hesitated for a moment. “I do want to set some ground rules, is that okay?”

“Yes, absolutely. Communication is of utmost importance in any kind of relationship. Hit me.”

“Okay. I don’t want to fight about stuff. Either of us is bothered, or hurt, or whatever , we talk about it. Nothing goes unspoken. No letting things build up and then blowing up. Open honesty. Alright?”

This was obviously very serious to Juliette, and Lance honestly could not blame her. Knowing what he did about her last relationship. And besides, this is truly a perfect guideline. This is the kind of stuff he had to teach his patients.

“Sounds perfect. Anything else?”

“Yeah. I uh- I don’t want the team to know. Yet. Please don’t take it personally. It’s not out of shame or anything like that. I just want this to be for you and me, for us. I don’t want the team to be all over us. You know how they get.”

Lance hadn’t even thought about the others, mind too occupied by swirls of gold and amber. But she made a fair point. The team could be nosy at best. There would be no way to worrylessly develop this… this spark. They’d be poking and prodding and making all sorts of unnecessary remarks. Throw that on top of how Juliette already feels uneasy in the lab? 

That would be a disaster in the making.

“I’d love that. They’re a bunch of gossipy teenagers sometimes.”

“Are you sure it's fine?”

She looked sad and afraid, uncertainty no doubt gnawing away at her. 

It occurred to him suddenly that their pinkies had never separated, so he took the opportunity to reassure her by taking her whole hand in his and squeezing ever so gently.

“It is. I promise.” 

He gave her his most reassuring and honest smile possible, which seemed to melt the worry off her face instantly.

A win in his book.

Juliette again rolled on her side, placing a hand on the side of his face before wordlessly asking permission to kiss him again. He happily gave a yes.

They kissed once more, and Lance briefly wondered how long it would take for the fireworks in his head to stop going off every time they did.

Yeah. He could absolutely get used to this.

Chapter Text

The kisses were sparse and savored, the secretive nature of them making them that much more meaningful. It was made clear that slow and steady was the goal. Because neither wanted to disturb the precarious balance of their connection and lose it entirely.

Besides, things got a bit hectic with the holidays. Juliette went to her mother’s house for Christmas, which left Lance alone during the holidays as usual. It definitely didn’t get better with the years, despite what everyone always claimed, so Lance once again threw himself into his work. That way there was no time to deal with the overwhelming pressure of grief. The kind that made your chest feel like it was collapsing in on itself, and that would hit you just as suddenly as the first snowfall of the year. 

He could never get over the sort of emptiness that came along with it. During his entire life with his parents, the holidays were all about joyful togetherness and simply spending time with each other. His personal favorite part about the holidays was finding someone the perfect gift. He would always pride himself on being excellent at reading people, a skill that only reinforced his talent for gift-giving. Sure, he might have been a bit too meticulously perfectionistic in finding the absolute perfect gift, but the look on his ma’s face or the hint of a tear in his pop’s eye made every moment of hunting and scouring worth it.

There was no one to buy gifts for anymore.

The days had been getting gloomier and gloomier, and Lance could feel the darkness creeping into his bones. Everyone went to their own homes, and their families. And Lance sat in his office, doing paperwork as if the world would end in the morning.

And it just might, with the way he had been feeling. 

But, like the previous year, and the one before, he survived. Like the first leaf of spring sprouting from underneath the icy snow. The time will pass anyway, his ma used to say. He hates how right she always is, even when she’s not here to remind him of that anymore.

Two days after Christmas Lance found himself miserable on his couch, a routine he is beyond familiar with. The sound of his doorbell pulled him from the neverending onslaught of darkness seeping into the corners of his brain.

It was Juliette. Sweet, beautiful Juliette. Whose hair shimmered like sunlight. He couldn’t possibly say no to that.

So he let her come in, not bothering to make an effort to dress up. A simple blue shirt and some joggers would have to do for now. That first glimpse of her after the door had opened felt like a sunrise after eternal darkness. He finally felt like he could breathe again. When she got in, she practically dropped everything she was carrying -which was way too much- and made her way directly to him. The glee on her face paired with the firm embrace from being away from him lifted his spirits. And it felt like the mountain of sadness and grief he was faced with was suddenly that much more climbable.

He didn’t want to let go, was the thing. And Juliette, amazingly kind and caring as she is, never let go first. So he lingered, in that sweet spot of gentleness. He sighed as his body relaxed, sagging into the hug. He could feel the tension from the last week leaving his body, and only then did he realize how sore and tired his muscles felt. Anxiety had snuck itself into his daily routine, leaving him tight and twitchy. 

But it was a bit better now that he didn’t have to be alone. So he let go, Juliette’s hands immediately traveling to his cheeks.

“Are you all right?” She asked, clearly picking up on the distress emanating from him.

“I don’t know. Not really. Had a bit of a hard week.”

Her face then twisted into something sad, and though she would never mean it that way it stung to be seen like this. To be seen as he truly is. Sad and utterly lonely. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

His brain said he should, that he shouldn’t let himself get stuck in the dark. But his body felt heavy and tired and he just wanted to rest.

“Nah not really. Maybe later.” He then jerked his head in the direction of the various bags left by his front door. “What’s all that about?”

“Oh! Right. So my mom always cooks way too much, so I have way too many leftovers for myself. I usually freeze them but I thought I’d get you acquainted with Marseillaise cuisine. So, I brought some!”

She made her way back to the bags and hauled them onto his little round dining table. The vase in the middle of it still held the bouquet she gave him on their first date, although it was pretty much completely wilted now. When she started unpacking everything, Lance understood what she meant. It was a lot of food.

“There’s some ratatouille , some soupe au pistou , panisse , and then some leftovers from the calenos. I saved you some nougat and pompe à l’Huile, I think you’ll like those.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. You had dinner yet?”

Lance’s plan for dinner would have been some stale bread with peanut butter, and maybe a can of soda if he still had some. Groceries were sparse, but he hadn’t had the energy to figure them out the last few days. So this onslaught of food came as a true Christmas miracle.

“Nope.” He answered instead.

“Want to have some?”

“Yeah, why not.” 

Juliette made her way around his kitchen like she had lived there for years, helping him to a more than decent sizing of everything before heating it up. And then she looked at him with delight in her eyes.

“I got something for you!” He was handed a little package of newspaper wrapping and a little bow. 

And Lance felt… he felt frustrated. Not because he was given something, not at all, but because they hadn’t discussed getting each other gifts at all. 

If he had known she would do this, he could’ve at least had some purpose in the past week. He could’ve felt useful, the joy of gift scouring would’ve cleared some of the storm clouds in his mind. And it made him feel sadder and more agitated than ever. 

“Lance?” Juliette looked worried and slightly hurt. She was good at reading people too, something Lance had taken note of in the last few months. She undeniably felt his hurt, but couldn’t possibly understand where it came from. 

The emotions hit him hard and all at once, so he sat down on his beaten-up couch and took a deep breath. Several actually.

Juliette put down the gift and sat down next to him, waiting. Waiting for him to start talking and explain the situation.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asked after a beat of silence, her own self-doubts undoubtedly getting the better hand.

“No, not really. I just- God I have no idea how to explain this without sounding crazy.” He scrubbed a hand across his face in pure frustration, but her hand on his arm got him looking at her.

“Try me.” She said, determined look in her eyes.

Another beat of silence passed, and another deep breath was taken, but Lance tried explaining as best as he could.

“I like giving gifts. I love the search of it. And I haven’t been able to do it these past few years, because- well because there wasn’t anyone to give them to. We didn’t plan on gifts so now I have nothing for you and it feels… bad. It feels bad that I could’ve done something I liked during this horrible week.”

Juliette looked remorseful, and unsure of what to say. It took her a moment to catch her words.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if we were doing gifts. This is just something I’ve been working on for a few months and my maman had the final piece of it. I didn’t know it would mean so much to you.“

And great, now Lance felt like an ass. Why did he have to be so goddamn sensitive? 

He had no time to spiral further because Juliette started speaking again. “Hey, how about this? We just postpone the gift-giving. You find me something, if you want, and then I will give you mine too. There’s no rush, no expectations.”

Lance stared at her for a long moment, reading every flicker of emotion fleeting across her features while trying to make sense of it all. He wasn’t often offered patience like this. On the contrary, people tended to lose their cool with him quite fast.

“Okay. That’s a deal.”

“Sorry for… you know.” He added sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled at him and kissed his hand before getting up to look at the food. 

A little sliver of light warmed up his chest. It was nice to be understood for once.

It took Lance two weeks to get his gift together. He had texted Juliette to meet up at one of her favourite cafés and bring her gift. Which left him patiently waiting at a little table in the corner with his gift neatly packed, ribbon and all. 

The coffee shop had originally been a recommendation from Juliette, something about the owner being a friend of her mom. The first visit consisted of said owner bombarding Juliette with questions -all in French- before Juliette kindly pried herself away from the onslaught of questioning. 

Right now though, she was running a little late. He watched her barge in and give him an apologetic look while explaining that there had been some unexpected traffic. They ordered their respective drinks, and Lance could feel the excitement in the air. 

“Can’t we just do it already?” He tried to keep the impatient tone out of his voice, but he was just so excited.

“God, yes please. I’ve been waiting for weeks.” 

They both got their gifts out, and swapped them.

“You first.” Juliette said, gesturing towards the newspaper-wrapped package.

Lance opened it with as much grace as possible, which wasn’t a lot considering it was newspaper and a bow, to find something wrapped in what looked like a towel?

He shot her a puzzled look, and all Juliette did in return was lean her chin further on her folded hands and fix him a smirk.

He put the towel down, and unwrapped it further to the contents he could feel hidden underneath. There were three bars of what seemed to be soap? There was also a vial with a dropper and some spiky thing that frightened him only a little.

“Erm, what am I looking at?” He asked her with a nervous laugh.

“Remember when I was over at your place for the first time? I went into your bathroom and saw that monstrosity of a 3-in-1 shampoo? Told you I’d get you some better stuff.”

Lance looked at the stuff again. He heard Juliette give a low chuckle.

“These are shampoo, conditioners and body wash bars. My mom knows someone who specializes in them. I’ve been using them my whole life basically. This spiky thing is a scalp massager, feels good and also benefits hair growth and stuff. And this-“ She picks up the little brown vial. “This is my own little blend of oils. You use it as a sort of hair mask before washing your hair.” 

She paused for a second, studying his face intently. Her hand reaches over and gently goes through his hair, before it stops on his cheek. “You’ve got such beautiful hair, Lance. You’ve gotta take care of it.”

It takes everything he has to stop the shiver from running down his spine. 

“And I’m sorry to say this, love, but I absolutely cannot date someone who uses 3-in-1 anything.”

And that’s the end of the heartwarming moment, though the ease at which she jokes around with him warms him up in a totally different way. 

“I uh- thanks.” He says earnestly, flashing her a soft little smile. “You’re gonna have to show me how to use all of this though. I have no idea how to get started with this.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“I mean, this almost looks like a torture device.” He holds up the spiky thing, scalp massager? Was he supposed to be doing that? Also, don’t you have fingers for that?

“Jeez, grateful much?” She laughed.

“Seriously, this will poke my brains out.” 

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve got enough to spare then.” 

He chuckled again at that, he was a pretty smart guy. Glad that at least someone has the eyeballs to see it.

Lance couldn’t wait a moment longer to hand her his gift. His was packed in deep purple wrapping paper, adorned with a soft lavender-coloured bow. He could see Juliette hesitate for a bit, not wanting to ruin the wrapping.

He observed her pry off the bits of tape after removing the bow, and unwrap it all with the utmost care.

Her face does a funny thing, momentarily going all confused before lighting up in awe. 

And there it is.

That look someone gets when they get a good gift. That look Lance has been yearning for since his parents died.

“ T’est fada. Putain , how- how did you even find this?”

“Asked Hodgins.” He said with a smile, and the way Juliette’s face falls was the funniest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Fucking Hodgins! I can’t believe I’ve never thought of asking him! He’s the ground guy, oh my god.” She buried her face in her hands for a second, before picking up the gift again and inspecting the plastic packaging.

“It was in this fancy booth and everything, and it spun like nothing I’d ever tried. The lady wrote the name of it down on a slip of paper. A slip of paper that I lost. It’s been haunting me ever since.” 

“I can’t imagine there’s that much difference in clay?” 

It’s much cooler out on Juliette’s balcony, with the sun hanging lower and lower as the sky got an orange glow. It had quickly become one of Lance’s favourite spots, and not just because of the view.

“There is, believe me. It was like a better quality. It was named after a color, though it didn’t actually really look like that colour. I wake up in a cold sweat sometimes knowing I lost that paper.”

“So it’s for pottery? Like mugs and stuff?”

“There’s a whole lot you can do with pottery besides mugs, but yeah. Mugs and stuff. Though this certain clay was traditionally used for teapots, if I remember correctly. Yeah, pretty sure it was teapots.”

“Zi sha.” 

Juliette looked up at him as he said it, and her face lit up in remembrance. 

“That’s it! That’s the name! Oh my god. You- you’re-…” 

“Thank you.” She said softly

He missed it. These moments. The one she had with his parents, his family. And the soft sound of Juliette’s voice was enough to make him pray to whatever deity is out there that he wouldn’t have to live without them again.

“It's my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

The oil is fragrant. The herbal notes prickle his nose in a pleasant and familiar way. It smells like warm embraces and comfort, and in a weird way, like home.

“Smells good. Smells like you.” He mumbles, the gentle pressure of her fingers lulling him into a state of bonelessness. 

Her soft chuckle is like another layer of care in his relaxed state. “That’s because I use it every day.”

“Mhh.” He hums in reply. It was like all the pent-up tension he’d been unknowingly carrying with him 

was seeping out of him in long thin lines. It has tingles running down his spine as the weight of the world left his shoulders for a moment.

“Is the pressure alright?” Juliette asks him. Though her voice is soft and in harmony with the quiet music coming from behind them. 

“‘S perfect.” 

She chuckles again but keeps going anyway. After a beat of comfortable silence, a strange feeling starts burning in his chest. Something he doesn’t want to keep bottled up. They had talked about openness, and he wanted it. He wanted to be open to her, wanted her to know all his ins and outs.

“I don’t think anyone has done something like this to me since my mom.”

The statement stabs through the silence, and the quiet background music suddenly doesn’t feel loud enough. Her fingers falter for a second, a small stutter in her movements that shows him he caught her off guard. It doesn’t take long before the gentle circling of his scalp starts again though.

“She used to do stuff like this?” She softly asks him. They haven’t talked about it that much, the topic still fresh and fizzing with uncertainty.

“Not my scalp, but, you know, my back and stuff. She had longer nails, so she’d kinda scratch patterns into my back.”

His mother’s nails had always been one of her points of pride. She’d keep them neat and painted, always filed to perfection. As she got older, she had to file them shorter and shorter. She would often complain about how brittle they were, about how they always broke in the corners and be painful. But Lance always found them just as beautiful.

“I miss it.” He adds.

Juliette’s fingers stop their circling, slowly weaving downwards through the curls on his head and over his neck before wrapping both her arms around him from behind. Her breath is hot on his cheek as her chin settles in the crook of his neck.

“She sounds amazing. Wish I could have met her.”

“Yeah, me too. I think she would’ve loved you.” He sighs, leaning into her embrace a little. 

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. My dad too. He always used to go on about not settling for less than I deserve. That when I found the one , as he liked to say, I should always treat them the way I’d want to be treated. True love takes work, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. All that gooey stuff. But I think he was just head over heels with my mom, and wanted me to have that. He was a romantic at his core.” Lance says with a smile. He doesn't often get to talk about his parents, and doing so kept them close. It makes it feel like they’re still with him somewhere. At least, that’s what he hopes.

Juliette is quiet in his neck, a few stubborn curls tickling his cheek. 

“Jules?” He inquires softly. 

She gives a low hum in response. The curls on his cheek spark his skin as she burrows her nose in the crook of his neck, and presses a gentle kiss there.

“I love you.” 

The words are muffled, the sound waves trapped between them and the contact of their skin. He feels them rush through his veins, straight to his heart. His heart responds by rushing the blood into his ears and cheeks, where they explode into various shades of red. 

In the flurry of emotion, Lance leans back and turns so he can look at Juliette’s face. 

“ What ?”

Color blossoms across her face in a way he’s never seen before, and she avoids eye contact like it would hurt her if she didn’t.

“Sorry! Sorry, I know it’s too soon to say that but god! It’s just- the way you talk and- I don’t know! I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, you don’t have to- ” She starts rambling, and it dawns on Lance that she thinks he’s rejecting the confession. 

Which is a stupid thing, because the words glow like a little ember. Thrumming under his skin, reverberating across every nerve end in his body.

Before he can even realize it he reaches for her over the back of the couch and silences her turmoil by kissing her. She stiffens for a bit, caught off guard by the suddenness, but melts into it when his thumbs caress the constellations of freckles on her burning cheeks. Reciprocating the gesture tenfold, their noses scrunching from the pure power of it all.

He doesn’t let go of her face when the kiss breaks, and they stare at each other a little breathless. 

“I love you, Juliette Dupont. To hell with ‘too soon’.” He says to her, firm and confident. He’s known this for a while, maybe even since he first laid eyes on her all those months ago. A nagging feeling in the back of his skull, a feeling that loomed over him. A sense that she would change things for him, good or bad.

And oh how her eyes sparkle, how her face lights up like a sunrise. How Lance couldn’t come up with a sight this beautiful even in his dreams.

The second kiss is softer, a silent promise. A confirmation, a vow. And he knows, he feels it. This is what his pops meant, this is what he wanted. And he likes to believe that he somehow sent him to her, nudging him in the right direction. Guiding him to the right thread of faith. There is no other way.

Chapter Text

Figuring out Lance Sweets isn’t as easy as one would assume. That man is an open book as much as he is a jigsaw puzzle. He has shown several deeply personal parts of him, and in return Juliette tries to do the same. It just seems to be much harder for her, for some reason. Either way, every week Juliette seems to learn something new about Lance. 

Their first real moment of connection happened after Lance showed up in the middle of a rain-filled night, sopping wet and crying on her doormat. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, bursting out of him like explosions of light. It scares people, it seems. It certainly scares the Jeffersonian team, though all of them combined have the emotional insight of a medium-sized rock, so there’s no surprise there.

It doesn’t scare Juliette, true honesty and vulnerability is a gift she will not take lightly. But still, unease claws its way through her stomach. She’s in unknown territory here, with no means of survival. 

Okay, maybe she is exaggerating a little bit, but she hadn’t expected to walk out of her shower to a crying Lance. It was different, intenser than what she’s seen before. The heels of his palms are pressed firmly into the sockets of his eyes, and he’s gently rocking back and forth in an almost hypnotizing rhythm. He’s not quite sobbing, either suppressing himself or riding out the last of it. The unfamiliarity of the sight makes her stomach twist a little.

She makes her way over on socked feet and takes a seat next to him on the couch. There’s no reaction, no acknowledging her presence. So, she reaches out and places a hand on the small of his back. 

“What’s wrong?” So gentle, barely more than a whisper. Though if it’s because she doesn’t want to spook him or because of her own nerves, she’s not quite sure.

His palms stay firmly pressed into his eyes, and his voice comes out a wet mess.

“‘M fine.”

A lie, to her or himself. Maybe both.

“You’re obviously not.”

He then makes a sound Juliette has never heard before. Something between a sob, moan, and wail. It’s mildly unsettling.

“Can I-“ Her voice feels too loud, too overpowering. She can almost see the sound waves boom across his hunched-over frame. She leans in a little, letting her hand travel from its spot on his back up to his neck. Right up to that sweet spot where skin turns into hair, and those little curls that never seem to stay flat. It produces a similar sound as before. She leans in and lowers her voice. “May I hold you?” 

A jerky movement, a nod. Confirmation.

But as soon as she pulls him in, he clings. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, applying pressure where his hands previously did the same.

Her wet curls drape over them like a protective curtain, shielding his sorrows from the world.

It takes him a while to calm down, to stop the tears and sobs. He stops pushing his eyeballs into her collarbone like he’s trying to pop them like balloons. He becomes boneless, a warm solidness that’s hers to protect and look over. Like a dragon looming over its gold.

“You back with me?” She whispers, and he nods against her neck.

“‘M fine.” He mumbles, and it’s barely believable this time.

But still, she doesn’t know what to say. Her emotional compass going haywire, spinning aimlessly and unable to guide her. 

“What...- Did something happen?” 

“No… Yeah?… I don’t know. Just happens sometimes.”

He sounds so miserable. 

Fuelled by a sudden wave of protectiveness, Juliette pulls Lance down with her to the couch. His head ends up on her stomach, and he clings to her waist as if he’s afraid to fall. That couldn’t happen because Juliette has both her arms around him, holding and tracing circles and scratching at the base of his scalp. All the little things she’s discovered he likes over the last few months. 

Talking about personal things is always much easier to her when she doesn’t have to look someone in the eyes. So, perhaps this will help him too.

“This is something normal for you?” She tries her hardest to make sure her voice has no judgment, lacing it with careful curiosity.

He hums in confirmation, a raspy crackling sound. 

“Happens sometimes. I never see it coming until it’s too late.” His voice is softer, calmer. She can feel the desperation seeping out of his body with the way he relaxes and sags under her touches. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Don’t apologize for feeling things.”

“Don’t wanna scare you.”

Her fingers find his cheek, and ever so slightly, she nudges him to look at her. Only when he obliges and meets her gaze does she pick up her soft tone again.

“You could never scare me. You just have to tell me about this stuff. I don’t know how you work inside, love. I’d like to. So I can help you, the way you want to be helped.”

Another hum, and then a deep sigh as he faces away from her again. “I feel things strongly. My own stuff, and that of others. You know? And I guess- it just, it kinda piles up until it explodes.”

Juliette doesn’t often explode the way Lance describes it. Whenever her emotions or gloomy thoughts overwhelm her, she just kind of shuts down. Like all the forces of her personal evil get shot inward rather than outward. She implodes instead of explodes.

“And you can’t feel it coming?”

“Mhh-hh. In hindsight, I can always see what the tipping point was, but in the moment it all kinda washes over me. Like some kind of big wave pinning you to the beach with its force.” His hand makes a sort of wave motion, flapping around in the air. She reaches for it and interlocks her fingers with his, pulling it closer.

“What was the tipping point this time?” She hums.

This time, he sighs so deeply she’s surprised his lungs didn’t shrivel up from lack of oxygen.

“Told Booth and Brennan I’m adopted earlier, before they left on their weird undercover circus mission. And it just, it wasn’t how I had planned to tell them at all.” He buries his face deeper into her stomach, into the dress shirt she stole from his closet earlier, and whines. Honest to god whines.

“Why’d you tell em?”

“Had to do with the case. My bio mom was-“ He stops for a second, sighing as if embarrassed. As if he had to give himself some courage. “She was a psychic in the circus circuit. Went looking for her a few years ago and suddenly became very familiar with the way circus people treat outsiders. Thought it’d help their investigation.”

Silence stretches thin between them, but it feels like the right thing to do. There’s more he wants off his chest, or at least she thinks there is.

“I don’t feel bad that I told them. It’s not exactly a secret I had to keep or something. Just… I’m scared there’s going to be some strange shift in my environment because of it. I’m already a bit of a bystander in the team, I don’t want this to add to the distance.”

Oh. Curse those idiots. With their bully behaviour and weird looks. He shouldn’t have to worry about stuff like that.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, love. They’re annoying and unnecessarily mean sometimes, absolutely. But they’re not monsters. All of us have some type of weird or fucked up family stuff going on at the lab. You being adopted will not make a difference. You did a very noble thing telling them and helping them out. You could’ve just said nothing and leave them struggling by themselves. But you and your big heart couldn’t help but be kind, and they’ll realize that eventually, Lance. Just gotta give them some time to let it get through their insanely massively dense skulls.” 

It gets weak a chuckle out of him, at least. “Dense. Putting it mildly, I see?”

“Yeah well, trying to stay civil here.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Thank you.” 
 
She can’t help but chuckle under her breath, glad that his tone is much lighter.

“No, I mean it. Thank you.”

Oh. Not about the joke anymore.

“Always.” 

They stay like that for another while, tangled up and glued together on the couch. Lance manages to clumsily reach for the remote and they both watch some reruns of a show Juliette knows he’s watched at least 5 times. But after an hour or so, he starts getting rather unresponsive. His words get all mumble-y and he slums into her more and more. He’s falling asleep. 

“Lance?” She shakes her hand through his hair a little, making sure not to startle him too much.

“Mhh?”

“You should get to bed, you’re tired.”

“You too.”

“I know, I’m going to go home.” She wasn’t looking forward to making the trip back home this late, but at least it wasn’t raining.

“No. Stay here.”

“Here... in your bed here? Because as much as I like your couch, I’d rather not sleep on it.”

“Yeah, of course in my bed. If.. that’s okay with you.” He was clumsily making his way upright? Towering over her on his outstretched arms, looking at her with those big eyes.

“Of course that’s okay with me, I’d love to.” She meets him halfway for a kiss before pushing him off her so he goes and gets ready for bed. It’s a good thing she has an automatic feeder for her cat, or she’d be coming home to one angry Pickle tomorrow. 

When he gets back he leads her to his bedroom, and though she’s seen it before, it feels different now. 

“Jules?” His tone is heavier again, more serious. A sudden shift she hadn’t anticipated as she sits down on the bed with her back against the board.

“Yes?

“Can I- I want to show you something. Something important to me. If, if you’re okay with that?”

And suddenly, that funny feeling starts twisting around in her stomach again. Her senses going haywire from underlying anxiety. A fear of messing up and losing this little pocket of sunshine for good.

“Yeah, of course you can.” She straightens herself up a bit, facing him with her legs crossed on the bed.

And then he starts taking off his shirt. And, okay, Juliette would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about this, seeing him like this for the first time. But with the way he talked, with the hesitation in his voice, it was very clear to her that this wasn’t just an opportunity to show off his body. 

He’s facing her as he takes off his shirt, but his eyes are downcast. And then he turns around and sits down at the edge of his bed, hands peeking out where he is holding them across his stomach.

And she gets it then, the hesitance. 

Scars. Big and angry and violently crisscrossed across his broad shoulders. Old ones. These were marks of anger, marks that wept once. Pain that no doubt had pulled and throbbed and bled again and again as any movement ripped them open like a terrible rift.

But beautiful. So much history and pain hidden behind a thin veil of fabric. Strength, resilience. The marks of a life that no longer exists outside of dark and tainted memories.

“One of my foster parents was a little enthusiastic about corporal punishment.” He says meekly, a dry and sarcastic chuckle lacing the words.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

Shit. That was a bad thing to say. She’s supposed to comfort him, not make it worse.

But another huff of laughter breaks her thoughts. “Yeah, they’re not pretty.”

And that had her jumping upright, making an awkward shuffle toward him. “I don’t think they’re ugly.”

His eyes peek at her over his shoulder, incredulous look on his face. “It’s okay, Jules. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” And she can tell he means it, that he thinks she’s lying. Not in a malicious way.

But she means it too.

“May I?” She asks under her breath, her fingers hovering above the scars like a butterfly waiting to land on a flower.

He looks away, hunches over a little more. A hint of bitterness laced his voice. “Sure.”  

But when her fingers make contact with his back, gently tracing over the scars, he shudders. She joins in with her other hand, softly caressing the marks with loving kindness. When they’ve mapped every bit of skin, she lets her hands travel down the sides of his back as she leans forward. And right on the junction of the scars she places a gentle kiss, one on each shoulder. 

“I meant what I said, mon coeur. I do not find them ugly. They’re scars. That’s all. They carry your past, your resilience. They’re just as beautiful as the rest of you.” Her cheek rests between his shoulder blades as she embraces him from behind, her arms crossing across his stomach right above his own. “And besides, I’ve always found scars rather hot.” 

The joke isn’t untrue, but she hopes it will lighten the mood a little. She hopes it will dissipate the growing storm clouds he’s undoubtedly creating in his head.

And thank goodness it does, because he straightens up a little and laughs again. 

“Hot, huh? There’s so much psychological stuff I can link to that.” He peeks at her again, and there’s mischief present now.

“Oh my god. No. No psychoanalysis in the bedroom.” She’s laughing too now, pushing herself more upright on his back.

“Oh come on! It’s my bedroom!” He laughs, turning to face her a bit more. “No, but seriously though, there’s actually a lot that-“

He gets cut off by Juliette kissing him, effectively silencing the psychological ramble that was about to happen.

When she breaks the kiss, she doesn’t quite let go of his face yet. “Shut up. It’s bedtime.” She beams at the way he melts but doesn’t give him the chance to get sappy either. 

Before he can realize it, she’s basically tackling him and taking him down onto the bed on his side. Locked in place by Juliette clinging to him in an everlasting embrace. 

“Okay, okay! I hear you loud and clear. No psychology in the bedroom!” His laugh is warm, and she can feel the vibrations travel up his arms as she giggles into his back. He tries escaping, but she pulls him back even tighter. “Jules! I have to put my shirt back on!” But she’s into it now, he’s going to have to fight his way out of it.

And he does. And he wins. Only because she definitely let him.

She decides now is as good time as ever to get nestled under the covers. Lance has a nice duvet, and the pillow isn’t too bad either. Not exactly her preference, but she’ll live. She watches him put on his shirt again through half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. He really is beautiful. And yes, she’s being sappy. But rose coloured glasses be damned. She’s allowed to have all the ooey-gooey lovey dovey shit too. And she’s going to enjoy it for as long as the universe grants her the small joys. 

Lance catches her staring, and she can see the blush creep up on his face and ears. 

Oh peuchère, he’s flustered.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m just enjoying the view.” She says with a grin as he starts making his way back into the bed. 

“Yeah? Well, I’m enjoying my view too.”

They end up in the same position as before, with Juliette clinging to his back. Though her grip is much less deadly now.

“You comfy?” Lance asks quietly. 

“Mhh.” She hums warmly, burying her face into his back. “Very.” 

He chuckles at the gesture. “Goodnight Jules, I love you.” He whispers into the darkness. But the words find her anyway, for they need no light to reach her. Not when Lance is such a light in her life right now.

She lifts her head one last time and kisses his shoulders before burying herself away again. 

“I love you.”

Chapter Text

“Mind if we interrupt?”

Juliette’s voice booms over the ice before she smoothly pushes onto it, interrupting the moment Booth and Brennan are having.

It’s the first time Lance is getting the opportunity to see her skate, and with the whole investigation closing down the rink for a bit, he practically got dragged along. 

“You skate?” Booth asks with a bit of a disbelieving smile. 

Juliette circles around the pair with ease as Brennan stumbles again. She looks like a graceful creature Lance can’t quite put a name on. Maybe like a swan, or a galloping horse. He knows what he’ll look like as soon as his skates hit the ice though, an unsteady fawn. 

He’ll be happy if he makes it back home with all his bones still in one piece.

“I do. Have for 17 years now” She glides and swirls over the ice like it’s nothing, a second nature, an instinct. It’s a beautiful sight.

“Why didn’t I know about this?” Booth asks as he tries to keep his balance with Brennan dragging him down.

“You never asked.” Juliette gives him a wink before she slides off and away from them, clearly relishing the amount of space she has. Booth gives a chuckle and a shake of his 

head. 

She’s been getting more comfortable around the team lately, blossoming open like a flower during spring. She seems more light, and confident in her position. More witty and open, more herself. It’s a beautiful thing to get to witness, and Lance can see in the way Booth reacts that he’s noticed it too.

Juliette jumps and spins in the air, at a speed that makes him slightly dizzy. She does this a couple of times, landing gracefully with her arms out in steely focus.

“Sweets! You should get on the ice too! It’s quite fun when you manage to keep your balance.” Dr. Brennan calls out to him. He’s been watching the three of them from behind his wall of safety, putting off getting on the ice out of fear. 

Fear for what? He’s not quite sure himself. 

He knows he’s going to fall on his ass at least once, so maybe it’s fear of losing the last bit of dignity he has with Booth and Dr. Brennan. 

Or maybe it’s fear of being found out. Lance and Jules had been going steady for a few months now, and none of the team was any wiser. It has become a sort of game, an easy one at that. It was easy to hide the glances and touches and even a kiss or two when you were together in a big group or there were places to hide. When everyone else was so engrossed in conversation in a bar or at the lab.  But here? It’s just the 4 of them, in a big open space. No privacy, no subtlety. He might as well have a spotlight on him, then at least the world would match the way he feels.

“Oh I uh- I’m not very good. At skating.” He yells back, watching Juliette come out of another spin. Her braid swirls around her, and she almost looks magical when she does it. Her hands all stretched up in the air. Yes, definitely a swan. Or some other kind of beautiful bird.

“Oh come on, Bones is doing it! Just get your ass over here!” Booth is trying to shame him into doing something. And it’s working. As always.

And then Jules skates over, and she’s all smiles and rosy cheeks and little golden curls escaping the confines of her braids, and his legs get wobbly before he even hits the ice.

How on earth is he going to keep it together when she looks like this? Her skating outfit was enough to make him blush at home. The all-black outfit hugs her figure so beautifully, and he thanks his lucky stars that the pink on his cheeks can be excused by the cold.

Jules stops with such practiced ease, and her hands are outstretched within a second. “C’mere, I’ll help you.” And then she smiles at him, and that’s convincing enough.

He steps away from behind the rink wall and takes hold of her gloved hands. Usually a gesture of romance, but right now? Pure terror. He’s going to die. “I need to remind you of the fact that I cannot skate. At all. ”

“Oh, hush. I’ve got you.” She laughs. And he can’t do anything but trust her. So, against his better judgment, he takes a step onto the ice. And then another. And he manages to not immediately stumble.

“There we go. You’re doing great.” Jules praises, but the words go right through him. All his focus is going to staying upright, and he can already feel the nimble fawn inside of him emerge. To his great dismay, Jules starts taking him out to the middle of the rink. And all is good in the world until he finds himself ass-first on the ice. Sprawled out like, you guessed it, a fresh-out-the- womb nimble fawn.

“Stop laughing at me, you’re the one that brought me out here!” Lance says with a sort of incredulous smile.

But Juliette just can’t help it. It’s the way he’s all limbs and no coordination whatsoever. It’s hilarious. “Sorry! Sorry. Here, let me help you up.” Except when she tries, she almost goes down with him. He’s making this so much harder, if he only would- “Get on your knees.” 

He goes beet red, absolutely full-on tomato. And it takes all she has not to react to it because before she knows it Booth is skating over to help Lance get up. “You go help Bones,

I’ll get Sweets upright.” And obviously she obeys, because what an easy way out that is. 

Brennan is stumbling slightly, trying to get to the barrier by herself. Juliette skates to her side, hands behind her back. She hasn’t gotten a lot of one-on-one moments with either Booth or Brennan, she doesn’t want to push boundaries. “Need a hand?” 

Brennan doesn’t even respond, just grabbing Juliette’s outstretched hands as she starts stumbling again. “You are quite good at this.” Praise? From dr. Brennan? Or at least, the closest thing she’s going to get from her.

“Lots of practice and love for your sport will do that, yes.” She’s skating backward, guiding Brennan to the barrier. In the middle of the ice, Booth has managed to get Lance upright. But keeping him that way stays a bit of a struggle it seems. 

Booth and his excess of testosterone. He’s trying every way to keep Lance standing, but he’s trying to do so in the most bro-like manner possible. Instead of just grabbing his hands, like any smart person would have done. Men.

“Yes, you can see you’re obviously very skilled in- in this craft. I am not. I don’t quite see the enjoyment in it.” 

Juliette chuckles at the remark. “Yeah, it’s something you either like or don’t, I think. I don’t see the enjoyment in a lot of the stuff you do either. But isn’t that the beauty of being a human being?” And she can see Brennan’s face kind of twist like she’s thinking it over. Undoubtedly hitting a few anthropology nodes in that big brain of hers. 

There isn’t any more time to ruminate over it, they have reached the barrier and behind them she can see and hear Booth get increasingly frustrated over trying to keep Lance upright. It’s his own fault really, but she definitely won’t be the girl to tell him. 

“You gonna be all right here? I think Lance needs some rescuing.” 

Brennan turns her head around and sees the predicament the two men find themselves in. “Sweets is also not very good at skating, and Booth is not helping him in an efficient manner. I believe he does need some help, I’ll be okay here.” Juliette nods and skates off again.

“Everything all right here?” She asks innocently, ignoring the exasperated look Lance gives her so she doesn’t start laughing. 

“No, no everything is not all right here. Sweets is on some kind of murder-suicide mission here. Trying to get my ass down with him. I’m the one with a concussion here!” 

“Me?! You’re the one pulling me every which way!” Lance says this while clinging to Booth like his life depends on it, and it’s actually rather cute. 

“All right, all right. Booth, vas te jeter, Brennan could use a hand. I’ll help Lance to the safety of the barrier.” 

Booth scoffs, muttering under his breath as he skates back to where she left Brennan at the barrier. Juliette takes hold of Lance’s ice-covered hands. “Alright pretty boy, let’s get you to safety.” 

Lance sputters a bit, and she knows underneath his hat his ears are glowing red right now. “Jules! Aren’t you afraid they’ll get suspicious?” He hushes to her, coming in closer as they slowly make their way to the nearest barrier. 

“Those guys? Are you kidding? They’re Booth and Brennan. I’m not sure they’ll notice even if I kissed you right here and now, they’re too engrossed in each other. Besides, I have a perfect excuse for once to hold your hands, are you going to complain?” She challenges him, a knowing smile on her face. He shuts his pretty mouth then and lets himself be guided to the barrier, which he clutches onto like some kind of damsel in distress. And like the supportive girlfriend she is, she dutifully skates beside him as he makes his way along the railing. But she didn’t exactly come here to skate at a snail’s pace, and the itch under her skin is making itself very known. The thrum of her heartbeat is becoming overwhelming, an overpowering need to get everything out of her system. To get the fizz of emotions out of her brain, it’s the whole reason she wanted to come here. 

Lance’s hand on her arm shakes her out of her thoughts. He’s making that face he does when he says something to her, and she is too up in her head to hear it. “Mhh?” 

“I said you can go skate if you want. Don’t have to stick with me.” He’s almost near where Brennan is hanging around the railing with Booth.

“You sure?” She’s honestly just asking to be nice, because she really wants to go do her own 

thing.

“Yeah, yeah! I can see you want to. Go! I’ll be fine.” His attempt to physically wave her off was unsuccessful, because he really needs two hands to stay upright. So he stumbles, again, but jumps upright immediately and flashes her one of his bright smiles.

Her head goes sideways as the gooey feeling stirs inside and she can feel her smile grow to ridiculous sizes. “I love you.” She whispers close to his face before scurrying off to the middle of the ice. 

With every spin and turn she can feel her head clear a little more. That fleeting feeling of weightlessness during jumps is better than any drug you could give her. She needs the skating, the momentum, and the weightlessness. She needs it to survive. It keeps her from feeling trapped and caged. It keeps her mind from running and shutting down. It allows her to let go of the overpowering negativity her stupid brain can’t seem to let go off during the days. Because it’s like breathing, she doesn’t have to think about it anymore. It’s her only escape from the earthly burdens that come with being alive, and she doesn’t know what she would do without it. 

Booth startles her, he’s just next to her suddenly. 

“ Putain! You scared the shit out of me.” Her hand is on her heart, and she’s slowly getting to a stop on the ice.

Booth just chuckles at her, amused by her reaction. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Bones and Sweets just called it a day, and I wasn’t in the mood to get off yet, you know?”

He’s acting so… nonchalant. Like he’s threading the water, figuring out how to talk to her. It hits her then that this is the first time she’s ever been alone with Booth. Ever. Booth might not be her favorite person, but she doesn’t hate him. And here he is, extending an olive branch, trying. 

Juliette Dupont was raised to be kind, so what else could she do but reciprocate?

“Yeah, once you’re on it you don’t wanna get off, huh?” 

“Mhh. So, 17 years, huh? How old were you when you started, like two years old?” It’s a bit of a jab, in the way Booth always exaggerates how young she and Lance are, but eh. Could be worse.

“ Ha ha . No, no I was 6 when I started. Right after I moved to the States.” 

They’re skating simple rounds around the rink, and Juliette can feel Lance and Brennan’s eyes on them. God, Lance is probably having a field day watching this interaction. His stupid shrink brain going a mile a minute trying to psychoanalyze every bit of communication between the two.

“Right. From France, right?”

“Mhh. Marseille.”

“Right, by the sea and stuff?”

“Yup.”

God, this is awkward. Conversation died down as soon as it picked up, but at least the silence is somewhat companionable. They keep skating rounds, Juliette deviating to do a jump or a spin once in a while. Until Booth starts speaking again, and she can’t decide if he’s actually that nosy, or if the concussion is messing with his filter.

“So, you and Sweets are close nowadays huh?” He’s prying, desperate for a bit of insight. Or, perhaps he’s just trying to become friends through their only common interest. Lance Sweets.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” She answers nondescript, stating it as an absolute fact, gauging for a reaction. 

He seems to think for a bit, before lowering his voice a bit. Speaking in a hushed tone, his voice laced with a layer of care. “That’s good, yeah. I think it’s good for the kid you know? To have some friends, his age.” She can see him glance towards the bleachers, where Lance and Brennan are having a conversation. Both their eyes keep flicking from each other to the ice. There’s a particular moment of eye contact when Lance meets her gaze, some sort of silent communication they haven’t quite figured out. But there’s fondness in his eyes. Love, one might say. She shoots one back, but she’s not as expressive as him. She doesn’t have his perfect smile that feels like sunlight, but she tries and makes do with what she’s got.

 “And I-, I don’t know. I want him to have someone, you know? The way I have Bones. For balance. I think you’re good for that.” 

Booth? A big softie inside? Maybe she’s been looking at him wrong. Or maybe, the last time she showed a piece of her unfiltered side changed his views, “Balance?” She asks, trying her damnest to not sound so defensive for once.

“Yeah, you know. He’s all-“ he makes a movement with his hands, a sort of shake around his head. “He’s all puppies and psychology up there. You’re all calm and collected. Balance.” 

Puppies and psychology. Hah. That’s pretty good actually.

“Heh, I wouldn’t quite say calm and collected. More like carefully constructed barrier. … But thank you.” The ice crunches under their blades, it’s not such a bad moment. “I guess you’re speaking from experience then? About the balance.” She jerks her head towards where Brennan and Lance are seated.

“What? Bones? Well yeah, she’s my partner. Of course, we balance each other out. That’s what partnership is all about.” God, even she wasn’t so oblivious to her feelings. 

“Yeah, but you’re friends too. Aren’t you?” 

“ Booth ! We should get you home! Rest is a very important part in the healing process of a concussion!” It’s Brennan, interrupting their conversation just when she was getting to the good stuff. 

“Yeah, yeah all right, Bones! I’ll be right there!” He calls back, returning with an awkward look on his face. “Well I better-“ “Yeah.” “-Get going.” 

They end the conversation as awkward as it started, and Juliette skates with him to the rink exit. But she doesn’t get off, just waves them off and watches them leave. And finally, she’s free. Free and alone with Lance. A delightful combination.

“You and Booth had a chat?” He inquires when the pair had left. His brain no doubt going all puppies and psychology .

“Yup.” She leans her tilted head on her joined hands as she rests her elbows on the railing. 

“What’d you chat about?” His comfy seat is disregarded, he’d much rather come closer to her, with his rosy cheeks al high as he smiles.

“Skating and stuff.” His face twists, about to ask more. <but she doesn’t let that train of thought start. “You wanna try the ice again?”

He almost looks offended she even dares ask this of him after how much fumbling it took to get off, but it’s just a little funny to tease him. “No, no I’m good. You go ahead. It’s quite a sight.”

“Cheeky.” She says with a laugh, and with a wink she skates off again. Sweet release from her own brain awaiting her.

Chapter Text

It’s such a shame. 

And that in itself is such a selfish thought, just a tiny one, but man . 

It had been such a nice evening so far. He gets to wear his finest suit, and he gets to look at her . And it’s the first time, too, a never-before-seen sight for him. For the first time he gets to witness the curves of her body he’s now so intricately aware of, hugged by dark shimmering purple. All her moles on display, all that bare, pale, freckled skin just out in the open. A purple shimmer on her eyelids, long lashes now much darker and more prominent. A dark brownish-red on those lips. It was hard not to get weak in the knees, to not react or reach out and touch and hold and-

He had to keep his composure. They’re surrounded by people, all dressed up for the occasion. Brennan rushes in, late but looking all dressed up. And then…

The grave digger. A name that has loomed over the lab like a shadowy monster since before Lance and Jules started working at the Jeffersonian. Lance has read up on the killer, as much as he possibly could find. Just in case-

But now, now it’s Booth . And he just can’t wrap his head around it. Agent Booth, who’s always rescuing and saving everyone. The one everyone always counts on. It isn’t right.

He’s holding the heel Angela gave him with all his might, hoping to look as intimidating as possible. He’s not the one to go head-first into danger, not when it’s not necessary. But there’s some part of him that feels like it’s his job right now. Why? He’s not quite sure himself, maybe to prove a point. To prove himself, in some weird way. To himself, to Jules, to the rest of the team. To prove that he too can protect them, that he’s good enough, useful to the team. To make Booth… to make him proud. Or something.

He trudges in, peeking into the dark apartment, eyes seeking through the black corners for any sign of danger. And then Dr. Brennan just… pushes past him after turning on the light. Okay, great. So far for protection.

“Booth?” Cam’s voice booms through the empty apartment, but no answer comes back, only that of Brennan. “He’s not here. I told you.” They start filing into the tiny entrance hall, Jules at the very back. 

“I was hoping it was, like, a prank call or something.” Angela says, fear and uncertainty clear in her voice. 

“The door was locked.” Juliette’s observation turns the conversation back to practical, but he doesn’t quite understand where her thought is coming from.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I doubt that the Grave Digger would take the time to-“ Angela’s explanation kind of washes over him, the heel is still acting as a weapon. And he will stand guard for as long as- “Give me the shoe.” She practically snatches it from his hold and starts putting it back on while continuing her previous sentence like nothing happened. There goes his sense of purpose. “-Would take the time to lock the front door on his way out.”

Angela moves into the room where Brennan and Cam are standing, the latter of which adds to her observation. “Yeah, especially lugging a 190 pounds of unconscious Booth.” 

And, Lance feels useless again. He’s standing there, straightening his jacket a little, observing the women look around the room. And then Jules passes by him and places a gentle hand on his back, letting it linger a little as she goes past him. And it’s just the thing he needs, a little sparkle of humanity to keep him from spiralling.

The silence stretches thin for a beat of time while everyone looks around the apartment until Brennan finds the next clue. “He was dragged… to the window.” And it’s obvious, the blinds are all bent and messed up. It’s a slightly sickening sight, knowing someone out there was able to take out a guy like Booth and drag him out the window.

“ Oh, my god . Okay. All right. Um, we need to call the authorities. We’re in way over our heads here.” Angela’s logic is flawed, clouded by worry and fear. Lance can’t help but go against it.

“No. No, no, no. I read up on this guy. If we want Booth back, we need to pay the ransom.”

“The Grave Digger wanted evidence. What evidence?” Camille asks as she moves away from where she was inspecting the window.

“It has to be the same evidence the state attorney and the F.B.I. think that I have. Which I don’t.” Brennan’s explanation makes sense, but it is completely irrelevant to him as soon as he sees Angela on her phone.

“What? What are you doing?” He asks as he walks closer to Angela.

“They called in Hodgins too.” 

“You think he stole the evidence?” Brennan inquires.

And Angela has one simple answer. “I know you didn’t.”

Angela was right, no surprise there. Hodgins has the evidence. Jules is being pulled along for the road, but she feels like she’s treading in the dark. She wasn’t there when it all happened, and unlike Lance, she hasn’t read up on it. It didn’t feel like any of her business. It wasn’t her can of worms to open and unpack.

The can of worms turned out to be more like Pandora’s box.

“Sweets you shouldn’t be here.” He’s just turned the corner, and already Brennan is sending him away. “The Grave Digger said no F.B.I. involvement.”

And he looks blasphemed for a second, almost physically hurt. “Wha- I’m a psychologist, not an agent.”

“An F.B.I . psychologist. Dr. Sweets, get gone now.” Cam adds, voice cold. Juliette knows she has a past with Booth, that she cares a great deal for the agent. But she herself cares a great deal for Lance, and damn does she need to bite her tongue. Because as much as she hates it, Cam and Brennan are right. This is a far too precarious situation to mess up.

And oh, oh god. She’s never seen him make a face like that. Staring down the room with a sort of suppressed rage, hurt eminent in his stance. Lance cares a great deal for Booth, and he must be going out of his mind being turned away like this. And she can’t do anything.

His cold gaze glides over the room, and he starts turning, going for the door. And then his eyes meet hers, and that cold anger flickers into something more desperate. A subconscious plea. A call she cannot answer, nothing she can do but return the look as his eyes linger.

He saunters off, like a dog with its tail between his legs. And it hurts, it hurts more than it should. Everyone’s attention shifts as soon as he’s out of sight, the mood becoming tense and focused. But her mind is stuck on the look of betrayal on her partner's face, as the ever-growing sense of uselessness she’s dealing with. It’s not like anyone pays attention to the fact she’s still looking at the door, not when Angela’s already directing her deadly stare towards Hodgins.

“You stole evidence?”

The serious tone, and the kind of incredulous layer of it, snaps Juliette out of her trance. She joins the rest of the team in their questioning, arms crossed and neutral stare as she observes from the back.

Hodgins did take the evidence, and though there’s a part of her that knows she should blame him or be angry… she just gets him. She didn’t know what happened that day Hodgins and Brennan were trapped in that car, but she could start to imagine what hell it must have been. You don’t just walk away from something like that, it’s something you carry with you till the end of your time.

They reach a compromise. 8 hours for them to analyze the evidence, to see if Hodgins is right. 8 hours out of 19 hours left to save Booth from certain death. Yeah, ok. Sure. What the hell. Who cares about logic anyway? 

She does nothing but bite her tongue and do what she’s told. She’s just an intern, and her entire team is caught up in a game of distrust and finger-pointing. And the only person who could help her feel a bit more secure got effectively banished to the runway upstairs. 

The tension, well it’s not exactly an optimal working environment. Angela is trying her hardest to decode the voice message, and it’s not Juliette’s area of expertise. So she just kind of lingers, does petty little tasks whenever Hodgins or Cam tell her to. Once in a while, she glances at where Lance is sitting above, wallowing in his forced solitude. And she tries to smile at him, something to tell him she’s thinking of him. But she’s not good at it, at balancing everything going on around her. So she takes the half-hearted smile she gets in return and tries to focus on the mountainous task at hand.

It’s not until Brennan and Hodgins leave to go find Vega that she gets a break. Cam tells her to go get a coffee and be back in 15 minutes, that she and Angela will go next. It’s too nice of her, Juliette knows it’s partly because there’s just not much to do for them but worry right now. But still, it’s a nice gesture. It shows how good of a boss Cam is, making sure everyone is getting at least a little bit of a break.

She makes her way up the stairs to the walkway above, her heels clanging uncomfortably loudly against the metal. Lance doesn’t look up, doesn’t await her arrival with big eyes like usual. He’s still sitting in his anger,  unable to do a single thing to help anything.

“Hey.” She says softly, making her way over to the circle of couches where he’s sitting. It’s mostly secluded, away from the prying eyes underneath. And she doesn’t take that for granted.

Lance looks up, his face softening slightly. So, he was just caught up in his own head. “Hey.”

Juliette makes her way to the coffee station, starting to make a fresh batch for everyone. Lance follows her, leaning against the table. He’s taken his jacket off, in just the shirt and vest. He looks very dapper, very handsome.

“You doing all right?” She asks him softly, though the question feels redundant. She knows they all feel like shit.

“No. I feel like a useless piece of shit. I can’t even help.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. Juliette finishes preparing the coffee machine, the sounds of it bubbling filling the empty space between them.

When she’s finished, she turns to him. “You’re not useless. You know that. And- they’re just, they’re scared. We all are. You’ve read up on the guy, surely they’re acting this… careful for a reason.”

“They are. That’s the worst part. They’re absolutely right to send me away, but it feels awful knowing I can’t help find my- help find Booth without risking his certain death. Can’t go home either. I’m stuck here in this stupid suit doing nothing.” He’s so frustrated, it’s evident in his posture and voice. And Juliette has nothing to help, no words or anything. So she does what she knows best.

“It’s a beautiful suit, you look very pretty.” She says softly, inching closer to him to put a hand on his cheek. Her fingers gently caress the soft skin, and his body sags into the touch with a sigh, seeking out the bit of warmth and comfort they’re allowed. 

His eyes are closed, and after a beat, he grabs hold of her wrist ever so gently. He guides it a bit lower, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand before resting his face there. It’s just what he needed.

Someone clears their throat, it’s neither of them. They break apart the touch, scrambling to look normal, only to see Angela staring at them with barely contained wild-eyed disbelief.

“Ange! You- uh.” Juliette starts to sputter, usually so good at lying, but her mental capacity is already stretched thin. Lance is completely silent beside her, a mortified expression on an increasingly reddening face. 

“I- I was going to see if there was any coffee..” Angela’s uncomfortable, she looks like she wants to pry, to gloat, to rub it in their faces, and then tell everyone in the lab. But she also looks almost sad. Maybe it’s the whole situation killing her gossip side. “I- you know what? I’ll just get some coffee on my own break.” She awkwardly laughs and starts to turn away, and panic overtakes both Juliette and Lance. This is their secret to tell, and there’s no way Jules is gonna let Angela dangle it above their heads. 

She makes her way over to where Angela is speed-walking to the stairs as fast as she can with her little heels. The rapid click-clack of her shoes is no match for the battering sound of her heart pounding in her ears. The trip to reach Angela feels miles long, but when she’s finally closed the gap she grabs onto Angie’s arm and pulls her close.

“Ange-“ She starts talking in a hushed tone, but Angela cuts in. “No, I don’t know what that is all about, but just- I didn’t see anything.”

“Don’t do that. Not right now.”

“Okay fine, I saw. Are you guys like a thing? Why didn’t you tell me?” Angela looks almost hurt, but she can’t guilt-trip Juliette. This is far too important to her. 

“Ange, no. This isn’t about you, or anyone else at this lab. This has been about just me and Lance for a while now, and we wanted to keep it that way until we were both comfortable to share our relationship.” She’s trying, really, but her speech seems to have the opposite effect.

“Oh my god, relationship ?? How long has this been going on?” Her voice is getting all excitable, going up in both pitch and volume.

“ Shh ! Keep your voice down. Look, now’s not the time. I’ll tell you about it after we’ve got Booth back. All right?”

Angela gives her a skeptical look. She opens her mouth as if she’s about to go fight back, but Juliette cuts her off. “ Please . If you’ve ever considered me your friend, which I sure have, you’ll keep this for yourself. Just until we’re ready.” Angela still doesn’t look convinced, her face twisting with all kinds of fleeting emotions. “ Please .” 

It’s a plea, a desperate kind of begging. Both her hands are around Angela’s arm, afraid that if she lets go, both Ange and her secret will disappear and take her control over the situation with her. 

Angela looks at her for a moment, and then focuses her gaze somewhere behind her, to Lance. Juliette follows her line of sight, and oh.

He looks beyond worried. He’s biting on his nail, stance small and tense. He tries to give them a reassuring smile once he notices the sudden attention. But it looks more like a grimace. 

Angela brings her attention back to the little pocket of secrecy. “Fine. But when all of… when all of this is done and we’ve got Booth back, you’re telling me everything . If I have to keep this secret. I need details.” 

Juliette feels her body sag with relief. Angela’s tone is light, the secret not hanging over her like a threat. The request for details is no different than any other gossip session they’ve had. It’s good, all will be well. 

If- 

When they get Booth back.

“Thank you.” 

“Yeah, don’t mention it. Now release my arm from your death grip, and go make sure that coffee is brewing.” Juliette lets go of Angela’s arms, sheepishly crossing hers over her chest. 

She allows Angela to make her way downstairs again, watching her go before turning to Lance who… looks about ready to combust.

“What was that all about?” He asks frantically when she’s reached him again.

“It’s all good, we’re good. Calm down.” She means it reassuringly, but it’s seemingly the worst thing she could’ve said. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!  What did you say to her? What’s going on?” He’s panicking, mind already stretched thin, this event only adding to the mess his life is right now.

“Hey! Hey-“ Her plan was to move closer, put two reassuring hands on his forearms, and calm him down, But as soon as she tries, he pulls back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant- I meant there’s no need to panic. Whatever Angela saw, will stay with her. And we can discuss what we’re gonna share later. For now, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Lance has buried his face in his hands, giving her no glimpse at that beautiful face of his. He sighs deeply, back curving with it before he moves his hands to cross them over his chest and his eyes glide over to her.

“I hate this.” His voice is soft and trembly, laced with uncertainty and fear.

Juliette just sighs and looks at him with a sad expression. There are no words that would make anything feel better right now, so she feels pretty useless. There’s no kissing him or pulling him under the covers to embrace the darkness away. They’re in the lab, and their friend has been taken from them.

But she moves forward anyway, standing in front of him and peering up at him through her lashes. He gives in, head dropping into the nook of her neck as she wraps her arms around him.

They stay like that until the light of the coffee machine turns off with a click.

Vega is dead. Nothing more than a waxy, pale corpse in a car, and to no one’s surprise -but his luck- the F.B.I. has been following Hodgins and Dr. Brennan around; technically breaking The Gravedigger’s rules of no F.B.I. involvement. Which means he can help them again, he can stop being a useless lump.

They decide to give in, and hand over the evidence. They’re wasting time trying to figure it out on their own, a precious resource that they can’t afford to lose more of.  So, Lance finds himself squeezed in front of the trunk of Dr. Brennan’s car with Angela and Jules, staring at the little computer screen for any changes in frequency. Behind them, Hodgins and Dr. Brennan are handing over the evidence, the camera the Grave Digger set up watching their every move. Placed high above them with mocking superiority.

The pattern spikes on his screen, and suddenly there’s yelling. Angela’s voice booming across the open space for Hodgins and Dr. Brennan to run, run, run . 

The cornerstone blows up in an explosion of fire and debris, any trace of the evidence gone for good. 

And like a deus ex machina with terrible time management skills, agent Perrota finds them, again . You’d think being under surveillance by the F.B.I. would avoid situations like this?

They get taken to the F.B.I. building, being scolded like a bunch of kindergartners who got their toy privileges taken away from them. Which, technically, is exactly what’s happening. They’re not allowed to continue with their investigation, not allowed to help Booth.

“It’s been almost two hours.” Dr. Brennan says as they walk through the halls of the F.B.I. building, finally permitted to leave. “Why hasn’t the Grave Digger sent us Booth’s coordinates?”

“I think we have to accept that the Grave Digger isn’t gonna release Booth. He’s cleaning up.” Lance says, bringing his own input to the situation. Something he’s been itching to do.

“Cleaning up?” Dr. Brennan questions.

“Yeah. He destroyed the evidence. Now he’s trying to destroy everyone who had gotten close to him. Vega, Agent Booth, you and Hodgins.” It’s the only thing that makes sense in Lance’s mind.

But then Hodgins starts talking, despair laced with his words. Sorrow is clear in his eyes, guilt poking through the blue of his irises. “It’s over. Booth’s dead. It’s my fault. We- We’re out of options.”

But Dr. Brennan goes into defense, not taking any chances by letting negativity slip through. “No. No! It’s not over. And I know exactly who to ask for help.” They all start filing into the elevator, clinging together like a bunch of sheep. Scared sheep. He can feel Jules stand a little closer than usual, she’s been quiet. No doubt shutting down a little while everything keeps piling on. He would love nothing more than to reach out and pull her into his side, letting his knuckles gently trace over the bare flesh of her arms.

He crosses his arms over his chest like a protective shield, a force of habit, a defense mechanism. Yet, he lets the tip of his shoe hit hers. It’s all he can do right now.

How Dr. Brennan keeps doing it, he doesn’t know. But, in walks Jared Booth with Thomas Vega’s remains. His frilly costume all neat, hat under his arm.

And because the Jeffersonian team is good, more than good , they figure it out. Vega managed to get in a good blow before being practically fried to death by the Grave Digger’s stun gun. But that’s something, a sign to look for. A clue.

A clue that walks right into their lab.

Heather Taffet. With her perfectly coiffed red hair and fancy pantsuit barges right onto the platform, setting the alarms ablaze. Angela, Jules, and himself, who had been uselessly waiting in the artists’ office, go and have a peek at the commotion.

They watch as they see her struggle to lift her hand all the way, as Dr. Brennan, Hodgins, and Jared discuss in tones not audible to them. But then it becomes clear, Hodgins mentions how Miss Taffet had complete access to the Grave Digger file and evidence, how no one else wanted the career-killing cold case. It makes perfect sense to Lance, perfectly aligning with every morsel of information he had crammed into his head about the Grave Digger.

Every suspicion is confirmed when Dr. Brennan gives her a good poke in the ribs, and she keels over in pain. Heather Taffet is the Grave Digger. She knows where Booth is .

Jared drags her to a storage room, tying her up to a chair. Lance strides along, his feet making long passes to catch up and aid in interrogation. It’s Booth’s forte, but Lance’s been called a human lie detector more than once in his life. He knows this killer, knows what will or won’t work.

Brennan goes in with the big guns, guns that in this case won’t even shoot, let alone hit their mark. “Where’s Booth?!”

Lance goes in with a much calmer tone, advising rather than contradicting. “She’s not gonna say anything.” But of course, he gets discredited immediately.

“You haven’t even asked!” Dr. Brennan’s voice has a hint of betrayal in it, but he pushes it away.

“Yeah, I’ve read extensively on the Grave Digger. I’m acquainted with the profile.” He starts explaining, face-to-face with the monster itself. “Very intelligent, very calm. She won’t speak.” Taffet looks at them, at him, like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. It’s terrifying to see in person.

“Then what do we do?” Cam asks, and Hodgins immediately has an answer. A goddamn conspiracy no less . “You have to do spring cleaning on her.”

“What is that?” Angela rightfully asks, an air of justified skepticism and annoyance in her voice. Hodgins’ tendency to the conspiracy is almost always wrong. “Is that some kind of torture or something?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t exist.” Jared adds but looks away a little too soon. This can’t be real? There’s no way Hodgins is right on this one. 

“The government keeps secret, black, illegal files on every U.S. citizen. It’s called spring cleaning because everything is brought out into the light and turned upside down.” Lance cannot help but roll his eyes as Hodgins explains it, he shares a sort of incredulous look with Jules, who’s next to him, who simply raises her shoulders with pursed lips. She’s got no clue either.

“Okay. That is complete paranoia, right?” He looks at Jared as he asks it, ready to get proven right-

“I’ll need access to a secure terminal.”

There’s no way.

“Follow me.” Cam says, way too calmly.

“And only conspiracy nuts call it spring cleaning.” Jared gets in a last jab before disappearing with Cam. And Lance feels like he’s in a fever dream. What the hell is happening?

Juliette gives him a few consoling pats on the back as the confusion clearly shows on his face. 

The tension in the room quickly overtakes his confusion however, it becomes ravenous and aggressive. Years of frustration and anger radiate off mostly Hodgins, who starts rambling about wanting to kill Taffet. It’s a fair statement, but Lance isn’t quite so sure if it’s just raging hate talking. Brennan agrees, saying if anyone could successfully murder someone it’d be the Jeffersonian team.

Lance doesn’t have time to analyze it or go into it, Jared barges back in and swoops Taffet around in her chair in one rough tug. But the woman remains ice cold and calculated. It makes him suppress the shiver wanting to make its way down his spine.

Jared then lays it down on her, and everyone else in the room. Spring cleaning is done. “I’m not gonna ask you any questions. I’m just gonna tell you what’s going on right now. I went through your file. As Heather Taffet, you have led a very tiny, transparent life. But in 1998, you married a man named William Burton for exactly one month before you had the marriage annulled. Which was long enough to create an entire identity, a whole untraceable identity, which you used for one thing and one thing only. To rent a storage locker in Spring Hill. I got you, bitch .”

Jared turns her around again, making her face the room. And there’s a look in her eyes, barely concealed fear. Her mask is slipping, no grasp on it anymore. No pushing the buttons and controlling the situation. She’s screwed, and she knows it.

Jared leaves, and once more the tension rises all around him. They might have gotten her figured out, but they still don’t have Booth. And they’re running out of time.

He’s been quietly observing from a nook in the room, arms crossed and face coldly neutral. Everyone is in various states of distress. Some are pacing like Hodgins, some are quietly shutting down like Jules. 

Hodgins suddenly barged towards him, all frantic frizzled nerves getting all up in his face. “You gotta get your hands on some truth-telling drugs.” 

Okay, huh?

“What?”

“Would you rather torture her?” Hodgins says as he nods his head towards Taffet.

“I know a little bit about that.” Jared mutters under his breath.

“No. What? We don’t do that.” The nerves are getting no to them, making them act irrationally.

“Booth will die!” Brennan all but cried out.

But no, this isn’t right. He steps forward, towards Dr. Brennan. “Character is who you are under pressure. Not who you are when everything’s fine. We’re the good guys. We don’t-“ He looks around the room, at the scared faces of his friends. “We don’t torture people.”

But his statement isn’t even given a second before Cam charges forward toward Taffet. “Evidence is being compiled against you as we speak. Tell us where Agent Booth is. You don’t want another murder on your head.”

“Okay, see? That’s not gonna work. Her pathology necessitates controlling the game. She’s created her own mortality. She’s not gonna relinquish control.” But yet again, his insight falls on deaf ears. Angela walks in, letting the room know they brought everything in from her storage locker. Back to work for everybody.

They find the evidence on her boots, a chip of paint leading them to where Booth is been kept on an old navy ship. An old navy ship prepped to be sunk for reefs. Jared immediately makes the call, getting a helicopter to get the Agent out of the hell hole before it’s too late. And Dr. Brennan, of course, gets to go along.

When Angela tells her this, Lance can see Taffet’s face fall. She lost, and she knows it. It’s a sweet kind of feeling he gets, one he doesn’t get time to think about as Dr. Brennan rams a briefcase across Taffet’s face in justified anger. It’s kind of satisfying to watch her topple over onto the floor, completely helpless. 

The hospital waiting room is chilly, making a nap sound much more appealing. Everyone is in a sort of daze. They’ve been awake for far too long, stressed, and overworked. But they did it, they got Booth back. So there’s room for breathing again. They’re just waiting for him to get checked out, and then they can all file in one by one and tell him how happy they are to see him alive and well. About how scary it was and about how they caught the Grave Digger.

And Lance won’t tell him about how he failed everyone, how useless he had been. No sir, he’s not sure he’ll be able to look Booth in the eye with how ashamed he feels. He’s not Booth, not brave and needed as the Agent. All he’s good for is giving advice no one listens to, and being disregarded in some corner.

Okay, yeah. He’s exhausted and clearly unable to think clearly. He knows this, knows he’s responding out of pure exhaustion and maybe even trauma. But still, the feelings won’t go away.

Jules shivers next to him, her whole body shaking as she rubs her hands over her bare arms. He leans in a little closer, voice hushed to not disturb the others. “You cold?”

“A little.” She answers quietly, Cam butts in from her other side. “You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Nah, I only have my leather jacket. And that’s not exactly formal attire. It was supposed to be just for the night, hadn’t exactly planned for all of this . Besides, it was much warmer at the lab.” 

Cam hums in response, the answer makes sense. She, as much as everyone, is exhausted.

“Here, have mine.” Lance starts taking off his suit jacket, leaving him once more in just his shirt and vest. He hands it to her, resisting the urge to drape it over her shoulders. It feels like an act much too intimate right now. He can already feel Angela’s eyes on him, now that she knows. He doesn’t return her gaze.

“Thanks.” Jules smiles at him, tired and faint. But his heart still skips a beat at it. The sight of her in his jacket kicks up a strange feeling of pride, like the jacket alone, his jacket , is protecting her from harm. Or the cold… Either way, it’s at least something he can do.

It takes another while before they finally get to see Booth, not all at a time of course. They go in little pairs, but he somehow ends up alone in the room with him. 

He swallows thickly, trying to still the knot he feels in his throat.

“Hey, good to see you.” He says carefully, approaching the bedside but keeping a distance. Not wanting to throw off some unspoken balance. But Booth isn’t acting all cocky or deflective as he usually does. There’s an open sort of vulnerability on his face. Something really shook him up in there, it seems.

“Hey man, c’mere.” Booth then does the last thing he would’ve expected him to do. He’s opening his arms, inviting Lance in for a hug? This- No. No, Booth wouldn’t do this to mock him. Right?

But he takes the bait, slowly and unsurely going in for the embrace.

Booth wraps his arms around him in a way Lance would imagine he does to Jared, in an older sibling kind of way he only ever imagined when he was younger. He can feel his throat constrict pathetically, and he swallows the feelings down quickly.

“Heard what you did for everyone. Thank you.” Booth says, strangely gentle as he breaks the contact with a firm pat on the back. Lance has to clear his throat before he can speak.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well you know, help them, keep everyone from going crazy and doing anything stupid.”

“Oh, I- I don’t think- I wasn’t even allowed to help for the most part.” He stutters a bit, not knowing how to handle the high praise coming from Booth.

“Yeah well, you did good, kid. Yeah- you… you did good.” 

Lance gives him a curt smile, trying not to beam and cry at the statement. But he can see that’s about the limit of Booth’s gooey talk, that he’s dug himself into a soft hole and doesn’t know how to crawl out of it. “So uh- how’re you feeling?”

And Booth gives him a huff of a laugh, glad to escape from the train of praise he accidentally started. And suddenly Lance doesn’t feel so bad. Because he knows these people and cares for them deeply. And he can keep going without recognition a while longer if it means he gets these kinds of moments once in a while. It’s the least he can do for his friends.

Chapter Text

Juliette is nervous. She can feel it as her nerves accumulate in her stomach like a little electrical current. 

The thing is, her home is like a sacred little shrine of comfort and familiarity. Everything makes sense there, everything has a place and a flow, and she doesn’t dare mess with it. The familiarity keeps her going, it aids her and the routine she clamps herself onto. Because without it all, she crumbles apart.

All that to say, her home is important to her. And not just everyone can enter the sacred space that holds her entire life. It takes a lot of trust and care for Juliette to let people inside, to let them enter that little pocket of her inner world.

So, she’s nervous. She’s nervous because she invited Angela over for the first time, and she’s only a little scared she’s making a mistake in doing so. She’s done all she could to make everything perfect, cleaned and tidied, everything ready to go. 

It was different with Lance. He was allowed in because her urge to care for him overcame her fears and uncertainties. And at that point, on that rainy night, he’d already carved himself into a little part of her heart.

Angela is different. Of course Juliette considers her a friend, a good one even. But there’s a boundary, this invisible wall she feels pressing into her back. Angela is her superior at work, and Juliette is just her intern. And to make matters worse, she doesn’t have a lot of time left as her intern, though there have been some hints at a permanent position once she’s done with her internship. But she doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

But then, Angela has kept her word. She had kept the moment of vulnerability to herself, sharing the secret between the three of them. And besides a sideways glance or a knowing smirk, she has kept quiet. So, maybe she is worth it to be allowed in.

That’s the whole reason Angela is coming over in the first place, the promised gossip she so desperately craves. And Juliette isn’t against a night of wine and girl talk like she’s always wanted. 

And maybe she secretly wants it a lot more than she lets on, the kind of easy conversation about her relationship. Who cares?

Her phone starts buzzing on the counter next to her, and it’s then she realizes how long she’s been absentmindedly staring at a little patch of orange fur on her couch while waiting. 

She picks up the call, glad she’s out of time for spiraling. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl. I’m at your apartment, but I have no idea how to get in.” 

“Oh, ehm- are you at the front door?” She asks, walking to the buzzer near her front door.

“Yeah, but there’s like, a million names here.”

“That’s fine, I’ll just open the door for you. It’s the fourth floor, apartment 2B. There’s an elevator near the back of the entrance hall.”

“All right, I’ll try to find my way. See you in a bit.” Angela’s voice was all excited and happy, and it was a little infectious, luckily so.

“See you.” 

The call ends, and then Juliette just kind of… stands there. She takes one more look at her house, making sure it looks tidy, but lived in. Not like she was frantically cleaning for the last 4 hours. It takes a bit, curse that slow-ass elevator , but she finally hears a knock on the door.

Her chest expands as she takes a deep breath, straightens out her clothes a little, and then unlocks the door. Angela excitedly greets her as she walks in with a wine bottle in her hand. She goes for a friendly embrace, which Juliette kindly accepts. But as she pulls away she kisses Angela on each cheek, because she’ll be damned before she lets that habit go.

“Wow, okay. Where did that come from?” Angela says in return, momentarily stunned by the act. 

Juliette is a bit iffy with physical contact, especially at work. She doesn’t quite know how to walk that boundary, hence Angela’s reaction, she assumes.

“That came from my French upbringing. And the fact you’re in my house, and not at work.” She smirks a little as she takes the wine bottle from Ange so she can take off her coat and shoes. While she walks into her open floor plan apartment to place the bottle on the kitchen counter, a dash of orange streaks into her bedroom.

“There goes Pickle.” She says with a huff, Angela walking into her space as well. 

“Was that your cat?” She’s peering around the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of the mysterious orange blur.

“Yeah, she’s a bit shy. She’ll probably come take a peek later, when we’ve settled down.” She takes out two wine glasses, mismatched ones, but then falters a bit as she looks at Angela. “Did you wanna drink this now?”

“Oh absolutely.” Angela is so casual in conversation, Juliette envies it a little. The way she’s so effortlessly social.

Angela pushes her hip off the edge of the counter, arms crossed as she starts to look around in awe. Juliette starts opening up the bottle, a silent fight between her and the cork ensuing. There’s no doubt her home fascinates Angela, it’s a space only a fellow artist can truly appreciate. There’s an artistry to her decoration, both in the literal art hanging all over her walls, but also in the many trinkets and dangles everywhere. There’s order amidst the chaos, carefully constricted.

“I love your place, it’s so beautiful.” She hears Angela say from her living room before there’s a little surprised exclamation. Juliette peers over her shoulder, momentarily trucing with the cork, to see Angela standing in front of a big painting of Pickle. It’s one of the centerpieces in her home, truly one of her favourites.

Angela starts talking again when Juliette turns back to the wine bottle. “Wait! I know this artist! I went to one of her exhibitions once, it was amazing. Her brush strokes are just so inspiring, you know? And she was so nice, had a lovely conversation with her about her work. And, you know, she wasn’t bad-looking either.” Juliette smiles along as Angela gushes about her interaction, but her face quickly scrunches up in a sort of awkward horror at the last bit. And to her unfortunate surprise, Angela doesn’t stop there. “I mean, she was a bit older than me. But she was just gorgeous. And her voice too, that heavy French accent. God, if I could, I’d go back in time and ask her if she was singl-“

The cork pops mercifully loud in symphony with Juliette’s voice. 

“That’s my mom .” 

She looks over her shoulder in barely contained disbelief, Angela seemingly frozen in time. Just for a moment, though. 

“Your mom is Odile Abadie?” And yikes , Angela says it so horrifyingly American. 

“ Abadie. Yes. That’s maman.” The wine pours out smoothly, and she walks over to Angela to offer her a glass. Which she immediately takes a big gulp from. 

“Your mom. The mom who knows everything and everyone. Odile Abadie.”

Huh, she hadn’t realised how many connections in her life come from her mom. “Yeah…”

She plops down on her couch, limbs all sprawled out and head leaning back.

“I mean, I still stand by what I said. Your mom is a gorgeous woman. Makes sense she’s your mom actually, you definitely get your good looks from her.” 

Juliette feels her cheeks burn as she whips her head up to look at Angela. Her voice is all undignified and high in return. “ Huh?”

Angela takes a seat next to her, cradling the wine glass close as she gives Juliette a knowing look. “Oh come on, you’re gorgeous. You know that. Everyone knows that.” Her tone implies that this is common knowledge, but no one thought to inform Juliette of this…

“What do you mean , everyone knows that?” She straightens herself up, angling her body toward Angela. It’s not something she would ever admit out loud, but she always feels this need to know. This nagging feeling of needing to understand how she is being perceived. Especially at work, where she shows but a fraction of her true colors.

“You honestly don’t know? Honey, when you started working for me, there were quite a few conversations all around about how cute you are. Mostly from me, but that doesn’t really matter,” Juliette feels herself go furiously red, and she doesn’t dare look at Angela while she talks. “It’s just-, I mean it’s almost unfair really. You’ve got great hair, great bone structure, and those gorgeous eyes of yours. You are all cool and mysterious with your leather jacket, your piercings, and that kick-ass motorcycle. It’s hot. ”

The neurons in her brain can’t catch up, short-circuiting at the casual tone in which Angela tells her everything. It’s not easy to accept the words as factual truth, especially if there have been people in the past who have said nothing but the opposite. There’s a dark, grime-like feeling crawling up her back, words whispered and yelled coming back to haunt her from the past, trying to contradict everything she just heard. But she knows Angela, knows how she doesn’t lie about these things. 

“I- I don’t know what to say.” Her voice is betraying her nerves. Great. Even her own body isn’t on her side.

“You don’t have to say anything, just remember it for next time. Now, tell me all about you and Sweets!” Angela leans in closer, poking her side a bit with one of her fingers in friendly eagerness. 

“Oh jesus, right. Speaking about my mom, actually, guess who’s meeting her for the first time tomorrow?” Her neck meets the couch pillow again as she leans back with a sigh.

“Oh my god, no way. How long have you guys been together? You’re just taking him along now?” 

Juliette sighs again, there’s a lot Angela doesn’t know that goes into responding to that loaded question. 

“5 months. Almost 6.”

“You've been together for half a year? And this whole time you’ve kept it a secret? Why?” Angela keeps creeping closer, her nosiness almost palpable.

“Because! I didn’t want all of you in my business. You’re a bunch of nosy gossipers. And… sometimes you’re not very nice to Lance.” It starts as a bit of a joke, harmless banter. But the last thing, not so much. She’s going to regret saying it, oh, she’s going to regret it so much. Her gaze is anywhere but on Angela, and the longer she takes to reply, the harder her heart starts beating in her ears.

“Yeah.. I guess that’s fair.” Angela sounds a little bit defeated, taking a sip of her wine in quiet contemplation. “Is that why you never told me?”

“Not just that, no. It was a personal choice. I-… I haven’t had the best experience when it comes to relationships. My last one.. messed me up. Badly. I needed to figure everything out away from prying eyes. That’s it.” 

The look on Angela’s face is an interesting one. There’s compassion clear as day, but also trepidation. She wants to know more, but picks up on the seriousness of her tone.

“It’s okay, Ange, you can ask.” 

Angela looks a bit like a dog who got caught doing something it wasn’t allowed, a sort of sheepishness in her composure.

“That obvious?”

Juliette just chuckles, wordlessly getting up off the couch as she sets her wine glass on the coffee table. A minute or so later, she’s back, pushing an old, frayed Polaroid into Angela’s hands.

Angela looks at it, her face twisted in confusion before falling. “Is that you ?”

And she gets it, it always takes her a while to recognise herself too. 

The picture was taken toward the end of her relationship, Rose holding her close like she was hers and hers alone. But not in a nice, gentle way. Possessive.

And Juliette… is not Juliette. The girl in the picture is someone else entirely. Dark, flat hair because you look like a child with your hair like that. 

Cheeks gaunt and ghost-like, an attempt to fit an impossible mold made by someone she thought loved her. 

Don’t you think you’ve had enough of those? 

Nothing about the girl in the picture is her. Not the clothes, not the makeup, not the hair. 

You honestly think people will take you serious like this? You look like my grandma. 

Not the smile or the way she keeps her head up. 

You should’ve gotten braces while you had the chance. 

It was all Rose.

The worst thing is that she still hears her in the back of her mind sometimes. 

“That’s me. Me and Rose, my ex-girlfriend.”

Angela looks back at her, shocked. And Juliette doesn’t know whether is the girlfriend part that caught her off guard, or just how miserable Juliette looks in the picture.

“How old are you here? You look... so young.”

“20. That’s a few weeks before I finally left her.” Juliette tucks her knees to her chest as she curls up on the couch, cradling her wine glass to her chest in an attempt to protect herself from the pain and misery of the past.

“Jesus. How old was she? She looks older.”

“She is. She was 23 there, 3-year age gap.”

“And, how long- how long were you guys together?” The tone in Angela’s voice keeps creeping up, unable to hide the unease as she realises the nasty little truths behind the story.

“3 years.” A sip of wine, then meet Angela’s gaze. She’s horrified.

“Oh, sweetie. Jesus. Did she- did she do this to you?” There’s no better way to refer to the palpable misery in the picture.

“Yeah. In that classic ‘I’m saying this because I love you’ type way. Commenting on everything that made me my own person, moulding me to be her perfect little girlfriend. And, you know, she was my first relationship. My first love. I didn’t know any better. She manipulated me, gaslighted and kept me quiet. And I didn’t even realise any of it.”

“You were a child. You couldn’t have.” 

“I know.” And it’s true, she does. But it doesn’t make the situation any better.

There’s a sad silence that stretches on for a moment. Angela studies the Polaroid, getting every detail engraved in memory. She takes a big gulp of wine before she softly speaks up again. “Does Sweets know?

“Yeah, he knows. I told him a little before we even started dating. And then, a few weeks ago, I told him the whole story, every little detail.”

Angela sighs deeply again, carefully placing the polaroid down onto the coffee table. Her voice is a little quiet when she speaks. It’s a tone Juliette isn’t used to. Angela is supposed to be loud and confident, she’s never heard her sound like this. Not when it’s about her. 

“God. Of course you didn’t tell us. I wouldn’t have either. Is that also why it took you so long to take him to your parents?” 

“Just my mom, and... sort of? I don’t know Ange. There’s more to that answer that I can’t tell you. Don’t take it personal, though.” The last thing she wants is to hurt Angela.

“No, no. I get it. Don’t worry.” There’s a little beat of silence where Angela tries to gauge what to say, trying desperately to formulate her thoughts. “Is your mom, like, chill? Or is she going to react badly to him? Is that why you’re nervous?”

“Nah, my mom is not going to be a problem. I’ve talked to her a bunch about him already. I’m keeping her updated. She- She’s the one who helped me deal with the aftermath of everything with Rose. And, you know, she’s worried. Of course she is. But, besides asking for every minor detail, she’s letting me figure everything out. And I’m thankful for that. Lance is nothing like how Rose ever was, and even then, I know how to look for some of the signs now.” 

“Then what is the problem? Because you don’t sound too sure about everything.”

Angela is right, as usual. There’s a nagging feeling in her gut that she tries to ignore, telling her to run. As by some miracle, Pickle peeks her head around the couch. She’s cautiously sniffing the air, eyeing Angela as if she’s some monster here to eat her. 

“Hey baby, c’mere.” Juliette coos, patting the space beside her on the couch. And she’s never been happier to see her cat listen. The warm presence on the side of her thigh eases some of the worry. Her girl somehow always knows when she’s not feeling well.

“Oh my god, what a cutie! What a sweet little baby, oh god. I wish I could pet her.” The alcohol is definitely taking its effect on Angela, that sweet buzz lacing her voice with extra adoration.

“Mhh, I fear that won’t be in it today. Unless you want to risk her scratching you and then never showing her face to you ever again.” She chuckles a little, though it’s not untrue. Pickle had a rough past, too, people haven’t treated her right. That’s why she’s Juliette’s baby, they understand each other. 

The ability to idly stroke her fur while talking also helps.

“I have patience, I will pet that cat someday.”

“I don’t doubt you will.” She says it with a smile, a genuine one, but their previous conversation isn’t done yet. “About the problem, though.”

“Right, right. The problem.” Angela is immediately locked onto her words again, ready to give her all her attention. It warms her heart a little.

“You know I have a brother, right?” 

It takes a second, Angela’s face twisted in concentration as she tries to recall the information. “Yeah, he’s been by the lab before, right? Tall kid, blonde curls, crazy blue eyes?”

The comment about Sam’s eyes gets a snort out of her. Because, well, Angela isn’t wrong. Her brother inherited her mother’s piercing baby blues, and she’s secretly a little glad she doesn’t walk around with that icy thousand-yard stare.

“Yup, yeah, that’s Sam, all right. The thing is, when everything happened with Rose… God, he was so young. Like 12 or something? And he didn’t understand what was going on, you know? All he saw was his big sister just absolutely wasting away. I guess-... I’m just not sure how he’s going to react now that I have a new partner. I’ve seen the faces he pulled the few times I’ve mentioned Lance. I’m afraid he’s created this image in his head, out of a need to protect me, I guess? And I have no idea how he’s going to react tomorrow.”

“Do you think he’s going to do anything?” 

“Nah, Sam’s not a harmful guy. At most he will be a little shit. But that’s kinda what I don’t need for Lance, you know? He doesn’t deserve that.” She feels weariness creep up on her, dreading the day ahead as much as she’s looking forward to it.

“I'm sure it will be fine, honey. Even if your brother is going to be bitchy, I’m sure Sweets will see all that shrink stuff behind it in no time, rationalizing it and all that.”

Lance shouldn’t be underestimated, and if it were any other situation and any other family he’d be meeting, Juliette would agree with Angela in a heartbeat. But she also knows how sensitive he can be, how important it is to him to make a good impression on her family. Him not having any for her to meet making this so much more real.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

She hopes to the Gods that she is.

Chapter Text

It’s about an hour and a bit. The roads are calm, the weather is nice and sunny. Everything is fine. Everything is good and nice, and this day is going to be just perfect.

“Lance?”

It’s going to be so perfect, he’s going to leave the best impression in the history of forever. He even made sure to pull out his nicest sweater, which was just a little bit too warm right now. It’s just hot in the car. That’s it.

”Lance.”

He finally snaps out of his thoughts, flicking his gaze to the passenger seat for not even a second.

“Mhh?”

Jules sighs in response, putting a gentle hand on his thigh in comfort.

“What?” He asks her, keeping his eyes on the road. For pure safety driving reasons, of course.

“You’re worrying.” Jules turns the music down just a little, making him feel suddenly extremely visible. Like there’s a spotlight on him.

“What? No. No, I’m fine.”

“Liar. Your jaw is all tense, and your knuckles are almost translucent .”

Her hand leaves its spot on his thigh, and he can hear her rummaging through her bag. He takes a sideways glance, right in time to see her pull out that obscenely big thermos bottle she always takes to work. 

He can hear the squeak of the cap as she screws it off, the thermos ending up near his arm as she hands it over.

“Here. Chamomile and lavender. For the nerves.”

He eyes it for a second, seeing the steam swirl in the light of the sun as the aroma reaches his nose. Jules eyes him as he purses his lips, a fond little smile on her face.

“It has honey.” Her voice gets all sing-song-y, knowing just how to convince him. Catering to both his sweet tooth and his sweet spot for her.

He ignores the chuckle he gets when he gives in, taking the warm bottle in hand and blowing on it a bit. It’s as good as always when he takes the first sip. Comforting, familiar.

“What’s got you worried like this?” 

He takes another big gulp before giving the thermos back, taking a breath in and out as he prepares to get everything out. Jules closes the lid and places it in the cup holder.

“Well, you know. I just want to make a good impression. I don’t know. I just- I really want this to go well.”

There’s unspoken desire present. It’s more than just wanting to make a good impression. It’s longing. A silent, secret little longing for family. Something he’s craved for years now.

But that’s not something he’s going to say out loud. It feels like a given. Like something fragile that might shatter into a million little pieces if he speaks it out into the world.

“Why do you think it wouldn’t go well?”

“I don’t know. What if I say something stupid and then they don’t like me? It wouldn’t be the first time…”

His voice trails off by the end in sickly sounding self-deprecation. Even he’s surprised by the slip-up, almost laughably Freudian in nature. 

“Look, there is absolutely nothing to worry about when it comes to my mom. My mom… she’s free-spirited, you know? Very open-minded, very honest, and interested in everyone. You’d have to literally outright curse her out before she’d take offence to anything. And you come bearing gifts, so you’ll be in her good books immediately. ”

It felt like a given to meet her for the first time with a gift. As a thank you for opening her home to him. Or as a thank you for having a great daughter? Just as a thank you.

Now, he’s not the greatest baker in the world, but blueberry muffins he can make like no one else. The recipe was passed down to him by his pops, and it used to be one of the only things he wanted to eat when he got adopted. He was too skinny, almost dangerously underweight, so his pops always used to sprinkle brown sugar on top. It would caramelise like a layer of sugary gold. Now, whenever he feels that pang of homesickness, he makes blueberry muffins with a brown sugar halo. 

It felt right to share a bit of his home with that of Juliette.

“It’s just muffins.” He answers. Because no matter how important they are to him, that’s all they’ll be to Juliette’s mom.

“Yes. Muffins you spent time and effort on. That’s not something to be taken lightly. Trust me. My mom will not be a problem.”

He sighs deeply, trying to release a bit of the anxiety with his breath. “All right.”

“Now, my brother…” Her voice trails off a little, high-pitched and uncertain.

And that’s enough to snap Lance’s head to her for a second. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.. I’ve been meaning to tell you this. But I have this nagging feeling that he’s going to be… a little mean.” She tiptoes around the words in careful trepidation, choosing a curated collection of words from her inner vocabulary. 

He whips his head sideways once more, eyes flickering back and forth between her and the road. His mouth opens and closes a few times, making a small fish-like sound. “M-mean? What- What do you mean?”

“Yeah, well… you know. He’s 14. Kids can be mean.” 

Her explanation makes sense; that’s not the problem. It’s the way she’s picking at a little loose bit of skin on her thumb. The way her eyes stay fixed on the dashboard. He knows her body language. She’s lying.

“I’m sure it will be fine, though. I’ll keep an eye on him. Don’t worry too much, yeah?” 

A half-hearted smile, and she’s trying. She’s not lying to him, she’s just trying not to worry him. If it were truly bad, she would’ve told him. He knows this. 

Eventually, after a moment or two of silence, he can see her hand in the corner of his peripheral vision as she turns the volume of the music up again. Just enough to overpower the stifling feeling creeping over him. They take sips of the tea in turns, and conversation flows and ebbs like the ocean. As natural and familiar as always.

They end up in a not-quite suburban area. There are nice little standalone houses, all with a little front yard. It’s hard to miss Odile’s.

It’s overgrown. Not in the ‘no one has lived in this house for years’ kind of way. But in the ‘did I end up in some kind of fairytale enchanted forest?’. There’s a fight for space as all kinds of plants and flowers, and trees get intertwined. Behind the little gate, he can see a pathway of tiles hidden in the greenery. He starts unbuckling his seatbelt when Juliette picks up that tone again. 

“My love?” She places an arm on his hand to stop him from getting out too soon.

“Yeah?” He says as he turns to her.

“I’ve told you about Antoine, right?”

Now, after 5 months of dating and over a year of friendship, he’s acquired quite the mental list of French words and names. From dishes, to places, to even friends of her Mom. But not once has he heard the name Antoine before in his life.

“I don’t believe you have, actually.”

“Oh, damn. Okay, so, my mom’s a bit special, right?” She starts, creating a buildup in both words and her voice.

“Yuh-huh.” 

“So, naturally, she couldn’t just have a normal pet.”

“Okay…”

“So, she got Antoine. A bird.”

Oh. 

“A bird? Like, what, like a budgie or something?” There’s a little hint of nerves in his voice, and okay, thanks body for betraying him once more.

“A little bigger.” 

“What, like a pigeon?”

And then she shakes her head with a twisted little smile. “You ever seen a macaw?”

“Those big guys? Your mom has one of those big guys?” He’s not sure whether he’s excited or scared to see one. He’s only ever seen those birds on TV.

“Oh yeah. But the thing with Antoine… Maman has had him for longer than I’ve been alive. He’s a rescue, and was in a bad home before us. But this also means he’s got quite the colourful language.”

“More colourful than you?” He quirks up an eyebrow as he makes the little jab, which earns him a smack on the arm. He laughs it off, but Jesus. He keeps forgetting that Jules knows how to pack a punch.

“I’m serious, though.” She laughs. “Antoine’s vocabulary is about 60% French curses. I just want to warn you, and reiterate that if he were to say one or two to you, it’s not personal.”

“Well, thank you. But I’m sure I’ll be fine, it’s just a bird.” It’s cute that she warns him, though, it makes him feel the little flutter of butterflies in his stomach. But maybe that’s just nerves.

“All right, you ready?” 

She’s got her hand on the door, all eager and excited. And then she’s looking at him with that expression that makes him melt instantly. And it’s all worth it, it’s all going to be worth it.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

They get out of the car, and Lance grabs the muffins from the backseat where they had been buckled in snug as a bug. 

They enter through the gate, creaking hinges welcoming them into the garden. It’s then that he notices the color of the house, a kind of olive green. He hadn’t seen it earlier, too enthralled but the foliage in front of it. 

Juliette rings the doorbell, and he can faintly hear it echo inside the house. And then it’s quiet for a few seconds before steps rapidly approach the door, and the jingle of keys is heard.

The sight that greets him when the door opens is somehow exactly what he had imagined. Odile is a bit taller than Juliette, about half a head so. At first glance, you wouldn’t immediately say that the woman in front of him is Juliette’s mom. Her hair is a sort of milk-chocolate brown, curls not so different from those of Jules, only frizzier and more haphazardly bound together with a claw clip. And her eyes are… so very blue. Nothing like the dark and warm brown of his girlfriend’s gaze. But still, there’s an undeniable likeness in Odile’s face. It’s all in the lips, the certain arch of the cupid's bow and the appearance of dimples as she smiles. It’s obvious by the shape of her eyes and the lashes that frame them. As well as the freckles and moles scattered across her pink cheeks.

She’s wearing a long, dark green cardigan, stacks of beaded necklaces cascade over the tank top underneath. There’s at least one ring on every finger, some stacked and some so big there’s no room for more. Bangles and buckles and beads all over her wrists, making a pleasant little jingle when she moves her arms. He has never seen a more mystical-looking woman in his life.

“Ah! Hello!” Not even two words, and even then, the French is so audible in her voice. Juliette wasn’t exaggerating when she mentioned it the few times. But her voice is also warm, and a little deep, very inviting.

An invitation he cannot decline as she comes in for not just the kiss on each cheek he had learned about from Jules, but also a firm embrace.

Odile does the same for Juliette, though her hug is tighter and longer, lingering with a small hint of worry. It’s a motherly thing, he supposes. His mom used to do the same.

“The drive was good ? Not too much traffic jams or anything?” Odile starts asking, gesturing for them to move inside the house. Jules takes over answering the questions, and he’s glad she did. He would’ve been stammering over his words, the inside of the house captivating him into wide-eyed and open-mouthed wonder.

They move through the hallway into the kitchen area, and there’s just so much to look at. Paintings as far as the eye can see, canvases hanging up or stacked together in a corner somewhere. Big ones, small ones, some framed in elegant and ornate, gold-gilded frames. He is surrounded by walls with the color of the earth. Green and orange and various other terra-cotta-like richness all around him. He can see where Juliette started her habit of making strings of shells, the evidence is all around him.

The house smells good, too. Like basil and incense, and oranges. 

“Maman, why are you wearing an apron?” Jules asks it so suddenly, and laced with this layer of desperate annoyance that seems like a regular occurrence.

“I am making marmalade.”

Her eyes flicker to him for a second as her mom walks away from them, entering the kitchen through a curtain of beads and shells. The look she gives him is all I can’t believe this woman sometimes, and he has to try really hard not to start laughing.

“Why are you making marmalade, maman? Did you forget we were coming?” Juliette asks as she moves to push the curtain of beads around behind a hook in the doorframe, opening his view to the kitchen. That explains the smell of citrus hanging in the air.

“Mhh? Non, of course I did not forget. I just had planned to make marmalade before you said you were coming. It’s no big deal, I can still talk while I cut the oranges.” She waves her hand around a bit, and Jules places her head in her hand for just a second. 

“I’ve uh- I’ve never had marmalade before. Is it good?” Lance asks curiously. He’s seen his parents make jam before, but he’s actually not quite sure if marmalade is any different.

“Yes, yes, very good. Good on bread with a little bit of salted butter. It used to be Samuel’s favourite for lunch when he was smaller.” Odile keeps talking while she’s slicing whole oranges in two, the halves falling apart before being transported to a big bowl. 

“Speaking of Sam, where is he?” Jules inquires, peeking into the living room to make sure he’s not hiding out somewhere.

“He is upstairs, I think maybe he’s not wearing his cochlear.”

Right, her brother is deaf. That might have slipped Lance’s mind for a second. 

“I’ll go see.” And then Jules disappears, leaving him alone on the battlefield. ‘The battlefield’ in this case being Odile Abadie’s kitchen. 

He hears Juliette call Sam’s name at the bottom of the staircase a couple of times, each time just that bit louder. After the fourth time of no response, he can hear her groan and start stomping up the creaking, wooden staircase.

And then he’s alone, complete silence surrounding him. Apart from the soft jazz coming from a record player in the living room.

Just talk, damn it. 

“I uh- I made you some muffins. Blueberry.” He picks up the little basket as he says it, reaching out in a giving motion as he breaches the threshold of the kitchen’s doorframe with it.

Odile quickly wipes her orange juice-soaked hands on her apron before taking the basket with a bright smile. “Oh, Lance, that is very kind of you. Thank you. We can have some with the marmalade as dessert later.”

“It’s nothing special. I hope they’re good.” He adds a dry chuckle to his statement. Hoping to make it sound marginally less pathetic. It had the opposite effect.

“Shush. I’m sure they will be very good.” She places them on top of the fridge, the basket catching a ray of sunlight in the process. “Thank you.” 

“So uh, can I help with something?” Please say yes, please say yes. So he can stop standing there like a useless lump.

“Absolument. Come juice the oranges, I will slice the peels.” 

And that’s how he finds himself juicing citrus fruits in a tiny yellow-tiled kitchen. 

“But look at you, such big, strong arms. I’ll call you next time I make marmalade, it will be done much faster.” She pats his bicep in emphasis, and he tries to hide his flustered expression. 

There’s a ruckus from the stairs then, and playful bickering becomes louder as Jules and her brother descend. Lance quickly finishes juicing the orange half before wiping his hands on the apron Odile handed him earlier.

Jules smiles at him when she enters the room again, and though he smiles back, he’s a little distracted by her brother towering over her behind her. He’s pretty much the same height as Lance, and it’s that much clearer the tall genes decided to skip Jules and just double down on Sam.

“Sam, this is Lance.” Jules gestures to him as she half pushes her brother forward. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Lance, with his best manners in mind, holds out a hand to shake. He’s met with silence and a defiant stare, slowly going from his hand to his face.

It goes on so long that Lance starts an internal debate on whether or not he should pull his hand back. There’s a suppressed look of desperation he throws at Jules, and it’s then she hits Sam on the shoulder to make him stop being a jerk.

Which doesn’t work, because Sam’s face twists into a sickly sweet smile. Very obviously not genuine, almost scary so. Sam grabs his hand, shakes it in one firm tug, and then lets go, dropping the smile as he walks into the living room and disappears. 

Jules looks apologetically at him, her fingers on her temples. “I’m so sorry.”

He laughs it off, not wanting to look like a loser who got his feelings hurt by a 14-year-old. “It’s okay, don’t worry. Teenagers .”

She smiles at him sadly while she comes closer, her hands going to the apron as she straightens it out a little bit. “I see my mom already put you to work.” There’s a soft little chuckle that accompanies the comment, and he can’t help but smile again.

“Oh, no. I offered.”

Odile peeks her head out of the kitchen then, her hands still hovering over the cutting board. 

“Julie, come here and help, too.” To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like a command. But from what he’s heard about Odile, he interprets it more like an invitation. A little ask to help and spend time together. Just presented without any of the social indicators needed for it to come across as such.

“Oaui, j’arrive.” Her hand is on his back then, as she leads him back towards the kitchen. It’s cute to see her pick out an apron, because she probably always goes for the same one. This is her childhood home, this is where she grew up. It’s normal to have a routine, to have your apron and your place at the table. It’s something that has fascinated him for years, even when he went over to friends as a kid or teenager. Because there’s order and normalcy in a household, and it was always a little heartwarming to see how they would fit him into the puzzle, even just for an evening.  It’s a very human thing to open up a home and immediately figure out how to make a new balance work.

It’s back to juicing oranges for him, and the kitchen isn’t very big, like barely big enough for the three of them to stand hip to hip. But it’s cozy, with its yellow tiles and plants on every corner. There’s a flow that happens then, each person tuned into their little task, working together like a well-oiled machine. All the oranges are juiced in no time, and slicing the peels takes even less time. 

There’s a gentle and easy sort of conversation going on. Odile is curious about him, but he can feel that she’s trying to hold back a little. She asks questions in an intrigued way, about his job, about his life, about him and Juliette. It only slightly feels like an interrogation, with Jules sometimes intervening the very personal questions. But he understands it too, he knows what happened to Jules in her last relationship. And he can understand Odile’s conflicting feelings now that she’s with someone new. 

When the marmalade is simmering on the stove, Jules decides it’s time for a tour of the house. She leads him around, and he’s simply mesmerised by the amount of terra-cotta-coloured goodness all around him. But the real showstopper rests above the fireplace, hugged by shimmering gold.

An enormous painting, in an ornate frame, of Jules and Sam as kids. Sam couldn’t have been older than two, Jules around 10. And it’s just adorable. The almost snowy white curls on both of them. Chubby, rosy cheeks on a round little face. It’s not the first he’s seen of Jules as a child, but the sheer magnificence of the painting is enough to make him stop and stare in open-mouthed awe.

“Wasn’t I just the cutest darn thing? Juliette’s nose crinkles with her smile, and it’s infectious.

“You still are.” He says softly. 

She huffs at that, rolling her eyes. But he can see the faint bit of color creeping up her cheeks.

“God, can you guys go be sappy somewhere else?”

It’s Sam, just turning a corner.

“Ah, ta gueule!” Juliette replies with a half smile and a hand thrown in the air, but he’s barely listening.

On Sam’s shoulder is the biggest bird Lance has ever seen. Its sharp, curved beak is just a little bit scary to him. The bird spreads his wings a little, flapping about while making little croaking noises. Juliette steps in front of him, but he cannot take his eyes off the creature. His bright blue and yellow colors stick out like a magnet for the eyes. He can hear Juliette making little cooing words that he can’t understand, but he can somehow understand the bird. Going “Julie” over and over in that slightly uneasy parroty voice. Jules sticks her arm out, and before he knows it, the bird is flying towards them. He can’t suppress the flinch as it lands, just a little too close for comfort. 

Juliette turns to him a little, and he quickly straightens up while clearing his throat. He will deny everything that just happened forever.

“This is Antoine.” And he forces a smile on his terrified face, because she looks so excited. And her brother… is trying not to laugh at him too hard. Okay, yeah. He had no shot to look cool anyway. He never does.

“He’s uh- He’s big.” 

Jules is scratching him on the head, his little feathers all puffed up. And- actually, he looks kind of cute like this, clearly enjoying the attention. 

Antoine’s beady little eyes open and stare at him with the power of the entire underworld behind him and never-fucking-mind .

“Don’t worry, he’s well trained. He doesn’t just attack out of the blue. Just don’t do anything stupid, and he won’t do anything stupid in return.” She’s saying all of this while this enormous bird is just… chilling on her arm. Again, that beak looks like murder weapon material. 

Huh, you think anyone ever used a macaw’s beak to kill someone?

Okay, no, what? Why is he thinking about murder the moment the bird stares at him? He needs to analyse that one later.

“I don’t think I want to come near him enough to do anything stupid in the first place. No offense.”

And her face falls a little then, looking at him for real now. “Wait, you’re actually freaked out by him, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.” And once more, his vocal cords go in a completely different direction than he wanted them to. Up .

She walks away from him, bird still on her arm, to a series of ropes and other climbable surfaces across the other side of the room. Antoine happily jumps off to start climbing around, but only for a second. No, he seems more interested in bothering Sam on the couch. 

As long as it’s not him he's bothering, Lance is a happy man. 

“Sorry, didn’t know you were freaked out for real.” Her hand is on his back, then, leading him to the garden. There’s a garden set on an overgrown terrace, but it has the same magical quality as the front yard does. Oh, and yup. There are ducks walking around here. And chickens.

Just how many birds does Odile Abadie have??

“They’re runner ducks, they eat the pests from the garden.” 

“Oh. That’s kind of cute, actually. It’s like they’re paying rent.” He says with a grin. 

Juliette snorts, nose crinkling up, revealing her right canine as she does. And then she curls up further in her chair, knees to her chest as she leans her head on his shoulder.

“You doing all right so far?” She asks him softly. 

“I think so.” He answers honestly. “Your mom say anything about me?” He’s hesitant to ask, but he just has to know.

“Only that you’re very nice and well-mannered. And handsome. The latter was to fluster me, but I think she meant it.”

“Well, that’s good. I think.”

Juliette hums, soft and low. It’s a confirmation. And he’s secretly very happy about the quiet little moment they’re having right now. Navigating new people is always draining for him. He has to keep his head in the game, making sure he says things the right way and acts as normally as possible. There’s a lot of micromanaging in his expressions, in his tone of voice. There’s the over-correcting when he feels something he’s said is not being received the way he intended it to. 

So yeah, it can get a little tiring to be around new people. 

And one could question, are such levels of… well, let’s call it like it is, masking, even necessary around people like Odile or Juliette. Or even the people at the lab? When they clearly don’t feel the need to do so themselves?

It’s a question he pushes down as much as he can. 

So he just tries to enjoy the moment, letting his skin be warmed by the gentle embrace of the sun, feeling the comforting weight of Juliette’s head on his shoulder. 

Odile joins them after a while. She places three mugs of tea on the garden table before distributing them accordingly.  

“Julie said you like much honey, I hope I got it right.” Odile says as she hands him the tea. There’s a slice of orange in the pink mug, and some fresh mint. He blows on it before taking a tiny sip, not wanting to burn his mouth.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

Odile smiles at him, dimples deepening as she does.

“I like your garden, it’s beautiful.” He adds, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, thank you. It’s a good hobby, a lot of fresh vegetables for dinner.” She nods to the overgrown vegetable patch, glimmering softly under the spring sun. “Ah, Julie, remind me to cut some basil before we go inside for dinner.”

Juliette gives an obliging nod, not being able to get in another word before Odile turns to Lance again. She says his name in a funny way, but a good way. He likes it.

“Lance, you like pizza’s, no? Did Juliette tell you about dinner?”

“No, no, she didn’t. And, yeah. I love pizza. My favorite food, actually.” God, what a basic answer. She probably thinks he’s boring now.

But she just throws a kind of accusatory glance at Jules and tuts. “Juliette, you did not tell me it was his favorite food. Pourquoi pas ?” 

Juliette sits up straight then, the comforting presence of her head leaving his shoulder. “ Pourquoi c'est important? We’re eating it anyway?” Lance feels like he’s been caught in crossfire.

“I just would have liked to know.” She sips her tea as she turns her gaze back to the garden. “I would have made the dough myself.”

Juliette gives him a quiet look of exasperation.

“ Maman, cela n'a aucune importance. We can always just do it again and then make the dough ourselves.. You already made the marmalade, ça suffit. ” 

“Are we not just ordering the pizzas?” Lance asks then, making both women look at him.

“No, we’re making them ourselves.” Juliette starts, Odile supplying her. “Yeah, we have the dough, and then you add all the things you want, and we put it in the oven. It’s very good. Better than the ones from the junk places.” 

“She means fast food.” She whispers to him.

“Oh well, that sounds fun. I’ve never made my own pizza before.”

“ Vraiment ? Oh, you will like it. I hope.”

They spend another good hour in he garden, before the sky starts to turn a little grey and Sam pokes his head out of the door to ask about dinner. So, they head inside.

Then it’s his turn to make his pizza. And there are simply too many choices. When he orders pizza, it’s usually just a pepperoni. But he's in a house full of vegetarians, so that’s not an option. Most of the choices feel a little too adventurous for a first time. He’ll ask Jules for a taste of her pizza with chickpeas, that’s no problem. But he’s just so picky about textures, it makes him feel like a toddler sometimes. So he plays it safe. A simple pizza with cheese. A cheese pizza. A classic.

While the oven is working on turning his layer of cheese a golden brown, he roams around the house again. Sam is on the couch, with bird , but that’s not what catches his eye this time. Sam’s gaming on the TV. And not just any game, no, he’s playing one of Lance’s all-time favourites.

“Dude, I love Twilight Princess. I think it’s like the best Zelda game so far. Ever, maybe.” He’s leaning over the back of the couch, Sam lazily turns his head towards him with a blank expression. He’s not responding, just staring as silence stretches thin between them. “Majora’s Mask is- is also good, though. Do you… have a fave?” The less reaction he gets, the more uncertain his words become. He feels almost scrutinized, like a bug being set ablaze by a spyglass and the power of the sun.

Sam keeps looking at him for another beat, before his eyes narrow in barely contained evil-teenage-mischief. His hand slowly reaches up to his ear before he pulls off his hearing aid and lets it drop to the couch. He doesn’t lose eye contact for even a second, not while he repeats the whole ordeal for his other ear. When his little act of pubescent defiance is done, that sickly sweet smile returns for just a moment before he turns back to the TV and ignores Lance completely.

All right.

That’s that for trying to befriend the brother today.

At least his pizza turns out deliciously good. And he has to try his hardest not to beg Jules to make them again the next day, right then and there. 

They make it back to his car and onto the road when the sky is just starting to get dark, the blue glow of the evening sky their companion. 

“So,” Jules begins, voice beaming over the radio. He turns it down a bit, wanting to hear her. “How do you feel?”

And he has to let his brain turn the cogs for a second, a lot happened today.

“I… I feel fine, actually. I think it went pretty well.” There’s a tentative, hopeful little smile on his face. And he’s looking at her, allowing his eyes the respite from the boring road.

“I think so too, my mom really likes you. I can tell.” And her hand is on his thigh again, sending the blood rushing right to his face.

“I’m glad! I really like her too. She’s very nice. Special lady, but very nice.”

Jules let’s out a huff of laughter before gently squeezing her hand a little. “I’m sorry about my brother, I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually.”

He hadn’t told her about the whole ignore with all possible senses thing. And maybe he’ll leave it that way, allow Sam to get over his grudges on his own time. Snitching on his every little behaviour won’t help, he reckons.

“Yeah, I think so too.”