#shout out to Ellen in da back...

[ghost-qwq]

Advertising my fic because my boyfriend said I should : "What Am I So Afraid Of?"

 In Vault 101 no one ever enters, and no one ever leaves. Butch DeLoria spent nineteen years stuck with the same people, same food, same damn life in that vault. People in the vault aren’t the best when you’re stuck around them for so long. Especially not the doctor's kid. James Maxwell’s special little “angel”, Cyrus. That dork wasn’t even worth being on Butch’s mind… if that’s the case, how come he thought about him so much?

[renee-writer]

Young Turks Chapter Nineteen

AO3

“Are you sure?” He asks again. She nods. Both their first year of college is complete and they are going to start trying. It is a big thing and they have spoken to their mates and parents about it.

 

Ellen, anxious for grandchildren, is all for it. “You have handled all types of grownup things. You can handle this. After all, we will be right here to babysit.”

 

Brian, a bit more pragmatic, disagrees. “You have and we will but, Claire has a long way to go in her schooling. It seems like a better plan to wait. You are young with plenty of time.”

 

Harriet is over the moon at the idea of being an aunt. “I took the babysitter class at school. Learned first aid and everything. I won’t even charge you much.” Claire had laughed and hugged her tight.

 

“Thanks squirt.” Her parents now…

 

“There is no doubt you are doing better than expected.” Her dad started off, “and that is wonderful. But this. It is quite difficult being a parent. It isn’t like seeing to your little sister. This is a human you will be fully responsible for. On top of school.”

 

“Whatever you decide, we will support. You are both adults. Very young adults,” a sigh, “but adults nevertheless. This is your decision.” Julia adds.

 

Geillis simply stares at her. Then she shakes her head while smiling. “Make me the Godmother.”

 

Marsali and Claudel, who they had over for tea, both offered their hardy support.

 

“It is a bit crazy but so is marrying so young. You are making that work. I believe you can make this work too.” Marsali says.

 

Claudel adds, “Ouí, a bit, how you say, crazy. You two are deeply in amour. The children should be born out of such. From passionate love making come beautiful babies.” He raises the glass of wine to them, “To the beautiful children our dear friends shall make.”

 

“Very sure. This is right. I can feel it deep in my heart.”

 

They throw the unused rubbers away and , as Claudel said, make passionate love.

 

It is summer holiday so they have a lot of time together. Jamie is still working for his da and the other farmers around them. Claire studies preparing for the work ahead. She expects to be off a few quarters to have their baby.

 

They spend time with Geillis, Marsali, and Claudel, who Jamie made a quick mate too. Still young adults  they go to the clubs were they dance to The Go Go’s, Paul McCartney, Madonna, and others. Claire doesn’t drink and because she doesn’t , neither does Jamie. They become the couple that drives everyone else home.

 

“I think tonight will be the night Fergus and I…” Marsali tells Claire and Geillis. They sit at a table in the back of their favorite club.

 

“Girl, you haven’t !” Geillis throws her arms up in the air, “as bloody fine as your man is?”

 

The other lass blushes. “I am a virgin.” She confesses as if it were a sin.

 

“I think that is wonderful.” Claire reassures her. “You love him?”

 

“With every fiber in me.”

 

“He love you?” Geillis asks.

 

“He does.” She leans in close and her mates join her, making a zone of confidentiality, “ he wants to marry me. It is just convincing my mum. She doesn’t like him to much.”

 

“Screw her! You are an adult. Do like Claire here and elope. You guys can stay with me like did until you get a place.”

 

“He has one but thank you, Geillis.”

 

“Well there you go.” She checks the time on her watch. “I believe the register’s office is still open. Come let’s fetch the lads and get you married today.”

 

“Geillis, slow down. She may not want to…”

 

“Oh, but I do.” Claire is swept into their excitement. Jamie and Claudel are playing pool. They walk up and Marsali takes her man’s hand. “Wanna get married?”

 

“Ouí, I love you. Let’s  get married.”

 

They pile into Jamie’s car.  Geillis directs them and they are soon witnessing the union of Marsali and Claudel. Tears and shouts as they kiss. They drop the newlyweds off at Claudel’s flat and head back to the Fraser’s to celebrate.

 

Later, they figure out that is when their child was conceived.

[pinknerdpanda]

Quarantined

Word Count: 1,368

Characters: Bucky x Reader (kinda), Steve, Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Quarantine shopping, Petulant!Bucky, Bickering Sam and Bucky, Exasperated!Steve, language (obvi)

SSB Square Filled: “I’ve Knocked Out Adolf Hitler over 200 times.” (bolded below)

Requested by: @princessmisery666: “Drabble request - Steve, Sam and Bucky shopping for quarantine supplies!! Let the games (arguments) begin 😘.”

Beta: @shy-violet-soul - you are da bomb dot come, Vy. I loves you! 

A/N: I loved this request. I feel like we could all use a little levity given the current circumstances. This is the first time I’ve written Sam or Steve, and only my second time writing Bucky. I hope this makes you smile. Feedback is greatly appreciated! If you’d like to request a drabble (which will decidedly not be a drabble because, words) - see this post.

x

Quarantined

“Infiltrate, extract and then get the hell out of there.” Steve’s voice was stern as he continued. “Everyone clear?” 

The trio before him nodded solemnly, all of them feeling the dregs of weariness creeping in before the mission even began.

“Any questions?” 

Bucky squinted at a small scrap of paper clenched in one hand as he raised the other. Steve sighed, but nodded at his friend.

“What the hell is a ‘Clorox wipe’ and why do we need so goddamn many of them?” 

Sam choked on a laugh, earning him a terse glare from the former assassin. 

“What’s so funny, Big Bird?” Bucky grumbled.

Grinning, Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, his palm stinging slightly from the contact with the metal. 

“Man, sometimes I forget just how damn old you are. But then you come in here with all that,” Sam waved a hand in front of a scowling Bucky and continued. “And it all comes rushing back.”

Steve groaned as Bucky launched into a diatribe of curses and insults aimed at Sam. Y/n shot Steve a sympathetic look before a particular string of four letter words made her clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

“Alright, enough. We don’t have time for this. I know this isn’t our usual job, but given the current situation, we don’t exactly have a choice. We are the ones imposing on y/n and she wasn't exactly prepared for us to be staying with her during a quarantine."

Their first reaction to the social distancing mandate had been fraught with eyerolls and grunts of protest. Yes, the serum made Bucky and Steve immune to the virus, but there was no way to know if they could still be carriers. And then there were Sam and y/n who did not have the benefit of super immunity. In the end, they'd all decided it would be best to comply if for no other reason than to be an example to the public. If Captain friggin America was doing his part to stop the spread of the disease, then everyone else should to. 

"We should pair off," Steve began. "Bucky - "

"I call dibs on y/n!" Bucky shouted, cutting him off. 

"Dibs? Really, Tin Man?" Sam groaned, exasperated.

"Yes, dibs. It's better than having to look at your ugly mugs for the next however-long-this-shit-takes. It's bad enough I have to be stuck in a house with a friggin pigeon -" Bucky jabbed a finger in Sam's direction before aiming it at Steve, “and Mr. ‘I’ve Knocked Out Adolf Hitler over 200 times’ until this thing blows over."

Sam and Steve opened their mouths to protest, but y/n cleared her throat, drawing the gaze of three pairs of guilty eyes.

“Alright, children. If you’re finished, can we please get this over with? Bucky, I’m overlooking the fact that you called ‘dibs’ on me like I’m some kind of possession, solely because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you and Sam pair up. You two are the actual worst when you’re together.” Y/n plucked the list from Bucky’s fist and a disinfectant wipe from the container beside the door before wiping down the cart and heading inside without sparing another look in his direction.

Bucky sighed. “I swear I’m gonna marry that girl some day.”

“Bold of you to assume she’s into geriatrics with scrambled brains,” Sam groused.

Bucky flipped him off, metal finger gleaming in the sunlight before hurrying inside after her.

-----

“This place is amazing!” Bucky marvelled, gazing up at the towering shelves and running his hand over a 50 pound bag of rice. “Whoa! Look at how huge this is!” 

Y/n looked up from her list just in time to see him dump a gallon of ketchup into the cart. 

“We do not need that much ketchup, Buck. We have a list. We need to stick to the list.” 

Bucky frowned, removing the ketchup and placing it back on the shelf. “You’re no fun, sweetheart.”

Ignoring his whining, y/n proceeded down the aisle in search of the next item on her list: peanut butter. As she perused the options before here, Bucky's attention was drawn to something else.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed.

Y/n turned to find her companion gazing longingly at a five pound bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips. She sighed as he directed a pleading look at her. The man was the former Fist of Hydra; a goddamned ghost story until a few years prior. And here he was, in the middle of Sam's club silently begging her for chocolate like a three year old child.

She sighed again. "Go ahead." 

Bucky's eyes went wide with excitement as he scooped up two bags and all but flung them into the shopping cart.

"Bucky we do not need 10 pounds of chocolate chips. Put one of them back."

He frowned. "But y/n…"

Holding her hand up, she cut him off. "No buts, James Barnes. Put. One. Back."

Bucky regarded her for a second, his mouth puckered to one side as he chewed the inside of his cheek. She met his petulant stare with one of her own as an elderly couple maneuvered their cart around them. Bucky groaned, stomping his foot and snatching a bag from the cart and tossing it back on the shelf.

"Come on, you big baby. Let's get this over with," she chuckled, tipping her head toward the next aisle.

Falling in step behind her, Bucky grumbled under his breath. "I bet this place doesn't even have any plums."

-----

Thirty minutes and two full shopping carts later, the teams reconvened at the front of the store. Steve's usually tidy hair fell haphazardly over his forehead as though he'd been running his finger through it repeatedly. Sam crossed his arms smugly and leveled Bucky with a teasing glare.

"How'd you do old man?" Sam beamed. "You didn't forget the prunes, did you? You're looking like they could come in handy right about now."

Bucky ground his teeth together, only suppressing a searing reply because he felt y/n squeeze his arm in warning. He raked his gaze over Sam and Steve's cart and balked. 

"How come Sam gets a giant box of fruit snacks?" Bucky growls, starting at Steve accusingly.

Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes closed. "Dammit, Sam. I told you no fruit snacks."

Sam shrugged, unrepentant. Y/n grimaced, shaking her head sympathetically at the exasperated Captain.

"If Sam gets fruit snacks, I'm getting that gallon of ketchup." Bucky flung his arm behind him, vaguely gesturing toward the condiment aisle. 

Y/n jabbed a frustrated finger into his chest, lifting her chin to look him in the eyes, fury darkening her features. 

"You have no idea how tempting it is to leave you here." She emphasized each of her words with a corresponding jab to his pectorals.

Behind her Sam snickered and she whirled on him "You too, Bird Man. Look at what you've done to him." She pointed at Steve, his shoulders slumped and his face drawn.  "He's supposed to be your friend, you idjits. And now look at him!"

Sam looked at the floor and Bucky scuffed the toe of his boot against the worn tile beneath him.

"Apologize and then Steve and I are leaving you two to check out while we go get pizza and ice cream at the cafe. Frankly we deserve it for having to put up with you two today."

Steve perked up a little at her words. Sam and Bucky shared a look but y/n ignored it and tapped her foot impatiently.

The two men mumbled a half-hearted apology and y/n smiled, satisfied.

"Come on Cap," she tucked her arm in his and began leading him away. "My treat."

Sam and Bucky gaped at the pair's retreating backs. Bucky sighed.

"I think I'm in love, Sam."

Sam chuckled, gripping the handle of one cart as Bucky took the other. Taking their spot in line, the men stood in silence until Bucky cleared his throat.

"Sam?"

Sam hummed in response.

"She called us 'idjits'. What the hell does that mean?"

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[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 3 ~Frankly Speaking~

Lallybroch always made Claire's heart lighter, and no matter where her travels took her, it was still home she looked most forward to. Her inheritance from uncle Lamb enabled her to travel, which he inspired in her when she was a child. Forever grateful to Brian and Ellen for taking her into their family, she offered part of her inheritance from her parents and uncle, to put towards the restoration of the hotel. Despite Brian's initial unwillingness to accept Claire's gift, which was deemed totally unnecessary, she had insisted on end until they had to finally succumb. She had been too stubborn to let go of the matter, and told them, she'll never wholly be part of the family unless they accepted her contribution. Now home at last and soon working for the family business, she couldn't be any happier.

"That was bloody gorgeous," Claire gushed, grinning at Jamie, as she cleaned her plate, eating every morsel of the Raspberry Mille Feuille with relish, including the garnish meant for decorative purposes. It was a favourite treat that Jamie had made, especially for her homecoming.

"Watch yer language, young lady!" scolded Ellen gently, her disapproving look quickly turning into amusement as she watched her foster daughter finished the dessert with enthusiasm.

Claire's penchant for swearing was acquired from time spent with her uncle Lamb at archaeological sites during summer holidays before he died. No amount of admonishment nor threats of her mouth being washed with lye soap by Ellen put an end to the habit.

"Sorry ma...everything was just so delicious," Claire apologised in a muffled voice, mouth still full with pastry and raspberry. "Absolutely fabulous homecoming - I'm so terribly spoiled. I should go away more often. And Jenny, the Beef Wellington was divine. I don't understand why you don't want to work in a restaurant. You're a fabulous cook, and you can give Jamie and Willie a run for their money with your talent," Claire said, her eyes twinkling as she winked at her foster brothers.

Jenny smirked feeling pleased, as she had always taken pride in feeding and taking care of her siblings. She hoped one day when she and her fiance Ian Murray are finally wed, she would have many children to take care of. "Did ye hear that, laddies?" Jenny eyed her brothers. "Good thing I didn't join the family business and become yer head chef. Not that Murtagh isna doin' a fabulous job, but home-cooked classical dishes are still the best, instead of those fancy cooking ye lads learn at yer swanky school."

Everyone on the large family table laughed, and Claire sat back and watched in contentment as the quibbles, banter and sallies carried on. Even Geillis had joined in with the raillery, and she was glad her friend mingled easily with her family with no awkwardness. That's not surprising though, as hospitality and conviviality were what the Frasers were known for whenever guests graced Lallybroch.

Ever since stepping into the threshold of the Frasers home earlier, Claire was engulfed with familiarity and belonging, but somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow something had changed. It didn't take long to figure out what was different - she knew it was Jamie. He was no longer the gangly and ungainly lad that left Lallybroch for France six years ago. Although they had kept in touch regularly, it was the first time they had seen each other in years.

When Claire first laid eyes on Jamie at the platform of the train station earlier, her breath had hitched. She was caught unaware of how much he had physically changed. He was broader, taller, and his body gym-honed, as a result of his daily workouts. Claire had always known Jamie liked to keep fit but seeing the result of his discipline was another thing. She was flummoxed by the newfound awareness of him as a man and how devastatingly handsome he looked. Although he had held her in his arms before in his brotherly way when they were younger, somehow being held by him at the train station was different. The feel of him was conflicting with her childhood memories, and it made her confused as unfamiliar sensations arose in her. Now, more than ever, she was conscious of everything that was Jamie, and every time he looked directly into her eyes, strange flutterings sprouted from her belly causing her to feel warm and tingly all over. 

At one point during dinner, she had unconsciously glanced at his lips as he sipped his wine, noting the few days' bristles of his beard, and she allowed her mind to wonder how many girls he had kissed. When her gaze eventually went to his eyes, she was mortified that he caught her staring. Looking away in embarrassment, Claire mentally scolded herself for thinking such things, and she thought, how appalled Jamie would be if he knew what was going through her mind. She tried to dismiss the strange sensations triggered by his presence as silly musings of those of teenage girls'. But it was futile as he was constantly nearby and just like when they were younger, he was tactile and demonstrative with his affections.  Brotherly love, that's all it is and nothing more , Claire thought.

She was brought back from her reverie when her phone beeped and buzzed.

"No phones on the dining table...ye ken the rules, Claire," Brian reminded his foster daughter, throwing a stern look her way.

Geillis' prying eyes, having a mind of their own, wandered onto Claire's phone screen which was placed on her friend's lap. She saw the name, bold and clear as the screen was swiped to read the message. "Oooh, it's from Frank!" she announced inadvertently in a soft voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Frank? Frank Randall?" Willie glanced at Claire with an arched eyebrow. 

Claire felt the heat creep up her face, as she never told anyone, apart from Geillis, that she had been in contact with Frank ever since that one summer when they met for the first time since leaving school. She had been secretly in love with him for as long as she can remember and had arranged to meet up once she was back home.

Jamie leaned closer even though he was sat next to her. "Sassenach, why does Frank have yer number?"

"Are ye seeing a lad?" Brian piped in, now curious and attentive to the conversation, as Claire was the only one in the family who haven't brought home a special someone.

"Och Claire, ye're blushing, dear...so ye have a boyfriend?" Ellen joined in, beaming. "Ye should invite him for dinner so we can all get to know him."

"Ma! He was a prick back in school!" Willie blurted, giving Claire a disapproving look.

"Language lad!"

"So, is he yer secret boyfriend?"

"Sassenach?"

"Is it a date and if so, why is he no' picking ye up?"

"Ye have a boyfriend?"

Jenny didn't utter a word, but her head snapped back and forth, watching the interrogation like she was watching a tennis match. And Geillis' only answer to Claire's frown was "Ooops."

"I don't have a boyfriend, alright!" Claire snapped, sounding a tad bit terse than she intended to. "He's an English guy who went to the same school as Jamie and me, and we're just texting. I'll be meeting with him in the pub later."

Everyone was silent for a few seconds until Jamie spoke up. "Sassenach, I'll drive ye to the pub...it's getting late, and it's dark."

"No, Jamie, I can go to the pub myself. I'm a big girl now, and I don't need a chaperone. Besides, Geillis is coming with me," she replied impatiently, trying to hide her mounting irritation of being put into a spot like a schoolgirl caught doing something she shouldn't.

"I am?" Geillis sounded happy at the prospect of going to the pub. She had always loved going out.

Claire nodded to Geillis, giving her a warning scowl to zip it.

"Claire! Jamie is just offering to drive ye to the pub. We all know you can take care of yourself..." Willie joined in, asserting his position as the older brother.

"I was going to the pub meself, so I thought I'd drive ye..." Jamie added, the furrows on his forehead deepening.

"How convenient!" she muttered, regretting her reply immediately. Jamie had always been nothing but sweet to her and Claire wondered why she was feeling guilty that he knew she was off to see Frank.

"What's that supposed to mean? And why are ye upset?" Jamie asked.

"I'm not upset!" she retorted, giving him a pointed glare. In actual fact, she felt unsettled, and she doesn't know why she should feel that way. Her family was just curious.

"Yes, ye are! How long have ye been texting Frank?" Jamie remarked, his face devoid of any expression.

Usually, able to read Jamie's mind, Claire wondered what he was thinking. It made him harder to read when his gaze is so intense that she daren't hold them for long.

"Da?!?" Claire looked at Brian imploringly, looking for support. She daren't glance at Ellen as she knew there would be questions in her eyes. And the last thing she needed was having to explain to her family who and what Frank was.  It was no one's business!

Brian let out a sigh as he dug out his car keys from his trouser pocket and tossed it at Claire. "Here, lass, take my car. Right, lads...back off now. The lass is right. She doesn't need any of ye hovering about especially if she's seeing a boy...that's her affair. She'll tell us when she's ready."

Catching the keys, Claire quickly slipped out of her chair and went to Brian to give him a thankful hug and a kiss. "Thanks, da." And before anyone could say anymore, she quickly left the dining room, signalling Geillis to follow suit.

"Mind, if ye have too much to drink, call one of the lads or a taxi. Don't want ye drinking and driving..." Brian shouted after Claire.

"Aye da, will keep that in mind," she shouted back, mimicking his accent, as Claire ran up the stairs with Geillis in tow.

..........

Jamie felt like he was punched in the gut when he found out Claire was meeting Frank at the pub after dinner. What he thought of his adolescent infatuation towards his foster sister as long dead and buried, had resurrected in full force as something more astronomical and immense. It was no longer an innocent teenage crush with dreams of holding hands, gentle kisses on the cheek and sharing a tub of ice cream, but something more deep-seated that was awakening inside him. Perhaps, it had been there all along, and distance and absence had prevented him from dwelling on his yearnings. When he had held Claire in his arms at the train station, he felt a pleasant stirring, and he so wanted to bury his face in her neck and feel the thrumming of her pulse against his lips. Claire had pressed her forehead against his as she told him how much she missed him, and if Willie and Claire's friend hadn't been there, he might have been tempted to kiss her.

But then there's Frank.  Damn him to hell and back.  He should have gone back to where he came from after he finished school, but instead, his family had stayed, and Frank went to study law in Edinburgh. Claire would undoubtedly like that about him, her being an intelligent girl and all. If memory served him right, she had told him a long time ago, she preferred the tall, dark and handsome type, and now, Frank was an academic, to boot. To make matters worse, he was no longer the reprobate that he used to be. He was actually a nice guy, and after his pupillage, he was on his way to becoming a barrister and most probably a successful one too.

For as long as Jamie could remember, he and Claire had no secrets. Even when he was in France, and she, in Switzerland, there were nights when they would talk on the phone for hours on end. She never broached the subject about boyfriends or relationships in her life, and when he did ask, he had waited with bated breaths for her answer. Her response was always, "I haven't found anyone special yet." If he was perfectly honest with himself, he dreaded the day when Claire would announce she was seeing someone. So, it must have been Frank all along all these years. How could he compete with someone that Claire was wholeheartedly devoted to? But on the other hand, unlike Frank, Jamie knew her like the back of his hand; he understood her fears and weaknesses, he could tell when something was bothering her, and the world wasn't right, he accepted and appreciated her flaws as perfections and endearing, he remembered all her favourites and dislikes. And most of all, he wasn't going to stand back and let some English sod steal his Sassenach right under his nose.

Jamie looked at the grandfather clock as he heard a car parked on the gravelled driveway. It was past midnight already. As he hadn't been able to sleep, he decided to watch a movie in the family TV room, which was once their playroom when they were kids. He got up and poured himself a treble measure of whisky before settling once again on the sofa. He could hear Claire and Geillis giggling as they made their way up the stairs. Half an hour later, the door opened.

"Jamie?" Claire walked in, wearing one of his old shirt and thick, red woolly socks. "I hope you don't mind...I went to your room and took one of your shirts. I've never been a jammies person."

He smiled and patted the sofa next to him before getting up. "Fancy a whisky?"

Claire nodded as she padded over to the sofa and slipped under the quilt Jamie had been using to keep warm. It was a cold night, and he hadn't bothered putting the fire on. "What are you watching?"

"Just flipping channels...nothing exciting," he replied, handing Claire a tumbler with a double measure of Lagavulin, before settling next to her under the quilt. Jamie knew she liked her whisky peaty. 

"Jamie, sorry about earlier. I acted like a brat. I have no idea what came over me..." Claire started as she turned to face him, tucking her feet beneath her.

"It's alright, Sassenach." Jamie raised his glass. "Here, slàinte mhath  and welcome back home," he said softly. "So, how was yer night out?"

"It was alright...it was great to see a few familiar faces. I talked to Frank, but he had to leave early because of some emergency at home. We're meeting tomorrow morning again for coffee." Claire shrugged as she swigged her whisky with an audible gulp.

"That's nice. So ye still fancy the lad?" He was swirling his glass and looking into the oaky liquid.

"If you mean if I'm in love with him... I don't know...well, I don't think so. I thought I was, until tonight. I've grown up loving the notion of being in love, and when you're finally faced with the object of your fantasy, reality doesn't really do it justice, does it? But I do like him, and he's changed a lot. And he seems to like me, so we'll see how it goes. I guess I've changed... people change, you know...just like Frank."

Jamie let out a deep breath he'd been holding in for long. He didn't want to look at her lest he revealed the jealousy he felt towards Frank. "I've changed too ye ken, but at the same time, I'm still me."

"Jamie as I said people change and those changes are more noticeable, especially you haven't seen them for ages. But what I don't want to change is what we have between us...I think what we have is pretty special."

This time Jamie shifted from his position and turned to face her. "Aye, Sassenach, what we have between us is quite extraordinary. What I want ye to know is, what I feel towards ye and what I know I have with ye, will never change. I promise ye that. Best ye don't forget."

Claire smiled for the first time since walking into the room. She put down her tumbler on the coffee table and arms wide open, she beckoned, "Friends again?"

Jamie rolled his eyes as he reached out and gathered her to his side, laying her head on his chest before kissing the top of her head. "Sassenach, ye clown. Of course, we're always that. Now shall we watch a movie?"

Claire snuggled closer, pulling the quilt around them and wrapped her arms across Jamie's middle. "Alrighty, you choose as long as it's not a war film," she replied, settling in a more comfortable position.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened. It was Jenny. "Hul-loh, ye two. I thought I might find ye here."

Claire raised her head from Jamie's chest, drowsily. "Oh hello, Jenny, want to join us? Enough space on the sofa."

"Och no, I'm going to bed. I just wanted to ask ye both if you'd like to go out for dinner tomorrow night? Ian had Italian in mind. I've asked Willie and Geillis already, and they said they're coming. So what say ye two?"

"Sassenach, fancy Italian tomorrow and maybe bowling after?" Jamie asked, smiling as her head bobbed, realising she must have fallen asleep.

Claire nodded. "That would be lovely... sounds fun."

"That's fab, it's a date then. Good night ye two!" Jenny winked before closing the door.

By then, Jamie sensed Claire had nodded off to sleep as she let out a faint snore. He pulled her closer to his side, relishing in her warmth and the feel of her body so close. Jamie tried to concentrate on the film and dispel thoughts of what Claire's nearness was doing to him. He wished she didn't look so damned provocative, wearing only his shirt. Part of her appeal was that she was so unaware of her own allure and charms. As Claire shifted, muttering incoherently, Jamie knew he was on a very short tether, strained and taut, that was likely to snap any moment. He needed badly to refill his glass with a good measure of whisky but didn't want to disturb Claire's slumber. He was just at the point when he was getting uncomfortably strained when the door opened again. It was Willie this time.

"Oh, it's ye both, I thought someone left the lights on," Willie whispered as he noticed Claire sleeping on Jamie's arms.

"Listen, Willie, can ye do me a favour and carry Claire to bed. I have an awful cramp on my leg and can't stand. I dinna want to disturb her."

"Aye, nae bother."

Willie lifted Claire effortlessly in his arms before saying good night to his younger brother.

The moment Jamie heard the door closed upstairs, he quickly got up and poured himself another treble measure of whisky or maybe more, and downed it in one go.  Christ Sassenach, ye'll be the death of me!

[basketcase1880]

What’s this, a second chapter in one day? Alas, this is the final chapter of this installment. I will be returning to this ‘verse at some point, but I am currently writing for another fandom at the minute.

CHAPTER 16

Previous 

Claire woke first on the morning of the Hogmanay celebrations, she loved the feeling of waking up in Jamie’s arms and didn’t know how she would cope when she had to go back to Glasgow in a couple of days. The feeling of Jamie stirring behind her, made Claire smile, so she turned around in his arms to burrow her head further into his chest. There were lots still to be done this morning, but she wanted to hide away from the outside world for just that little bit longer.

 “Mornin’ Sassenach,” Jamie murmured as he pressed his lips to Claire’s. “I’m surprised there is still only the two of us in bed.”

 “Hush,” Claire jokingly scolded. “I can hear footsteps outside the door, so I think Fergus is just a late riser this morning. He has been working quite hard the past few days, and the high he got off of donating his toys was almost unbearable last night.”

“Did ye get somethin’ nice tae wear tonight?” Jamie asked, suddenly remembering the ladies’ shopping trip yesterday. “Do I get a sneak preview?”

 “No, you do not, James Fraser,” Claire scolded, just as the bedroom door opened and Fergus found his way onto the bed to snuggle between Claire and Jamie. “I had Jenny as my stylist, so you can trust I have a suitable outfit to match you, and Fergus, in your kilts.”

 “Fergus has a kilt?” Jamie asked as he began to stroke Fergus’ curls. “Another gift from Janet?”

 “No, M’lady,” Fergus corrected around his thumb, which was currently located in his mouth, and Jamie’s eyes snapped to Claire’s.

 “Sorcha?” Jamie questioned. “You bought him a kilt?”

 “I noticed while we were sorting through his clothes, he needed a kilt,” Claire explained as if it was common knowledge. “So, while we were out, I had Jenny help me get him one. He looks so handsome in it and will match his daddy perfectly.”

 “Well, I can’t wait for tonight,” Jamie smiled. “But as much as I would like to stay here until tonight, I’m needed to help out with the horses. Ian has asked da’ if he can take Janet tae Loch nam Bonnach this morning.”

 “Ooh,” Claire taunted as she pushed at Jamie’s shoulder. “Getting yourself another brother soon, are you? Off you go, I’m going to hang off and let this rascal sleep a bit more as he appears to have dozed off again.”

 “Alrigh’, Sassenach,” Jamie smiled, and he pressed soft kisses to Fergus’ forehead and Claire’s lips. “I’ll set an alarm for 9 for the two of ye, get some more sleep. I’ll let mam know.”

 Claire just gave Jamie a soft smile at his gesture and snuggled back in with the little boy who she was sure occupied about half of her heart by now. And she was pretty sure his dad occupied the rest of her heart.

 ** 

When the alarm went off at 9, Claire woke, but Fergus did not. So, she decided to go and run him a bath while he was still sleeping and nip downstairs to get herself some coffee.

 “Ah, mornin’, Claire,” Ellen said as she mixed some wonderfully smelling ingredients together. “Did ye’ sleep weel?”

 “Morning Ellen,” Claire returned as she located the coffee pot that Ellen had placed on the stove top to keep warm. “Yes, thank you. To be honest, I think I’m going to struggle when I go back to Glasgow. Not sleeping in Jamie’s arms.”

 “Weel, ye’ have weekends an’ when yer classes resume yer always welcome tae visit on long weekends,” Ellen reassured Claire. “But I dinnae think yer goin’ tae be the only one struggling. I can see Jamie an’ Fergus spending a lot of nights in the same bed when ye go back tae school.”

 “Thank you, Ellen,” Claire said as she hugged her new mother figure, careful not to get the baking mix on her clothes. “Now, I’ve run Fergus’ bath, I just need to go and get him up and ready for the day.”

 “Mind just put him in jeans an’ a jumper,” Ellen said as Claire passed through the kitchen door. “Ye can change him intae his kilt around 4. If Fergus is anything like Jamie at that age, ye’ willnae want him in his kilt too early.”

 “I was just going to put him in another pair of pyjamas,” Claire smiled. “We’re just going to have a lazy day, maybe watching DVDs or painting, so he wasn’t getting under anyone’s feet.”

 “Beauty and brains,” Ellen smiled. “Jamie has really picked a goodun wi’ ye. Now go an’ get the lad up before the bath water goes cold.”

 It was easier to get Fergus up and, in the bath, than Claire thought it would be. She sat and sang to him while he played with his toys for a little while. She then decided to wash him before the water cooled too much.

 “Right, young man,” Claire said when she was sure all the soap was out his hair. “Let’s get you dried and into some fresh pyjamas. It’s too early to get into your kilt. We can play with your toys or we can watch some films.”

 “Can you read me a story, please?” Fergus asked as Claire wrapped him up in his towel. “I like when you read to me.”

 “Of course,” Claire smiled, which gave her an idea. She would use her phone to record her reading the stories and then pass them onto Jamie for when she was back in Glasgow. “But we’ll go downstairs first and see what we can get for breakfast.”

*** 

 After breakfast, Claire and Fergus retreated to Jamie’s room and Fergus gathered some of his favourite stories before curling up in Claire’s lap. Claire just smiled at Fergus as she went about readying her phone to record some of the Mr Men books for the little boy.

 Ellen popped up with some lunch for them, which Claire was grateful for, as her throat was becoming dry with all her reading. Ellen noticed the pile of books when she sat the tray of sandwiches and shortbread down.

 “Ye’ been reading some books this mornin’ then?” Ellen asked.

 “Yeah,” Claire smiled. “I asked Fergus to pick a selection of books, then I decided that I’d record myself reading them. I’ll pass them on to Jamie for the nights when all Fergus wants is my voice.”

 “Ye’ve really fallen for my boys, haven’t ye’?” Ellen asked as she took Claire’s hand in hers.

 “I used to feel so lonely,” Claire whispered, not wanting Fergus to hear this part of the conversation and become upset. “Then I met Jenny, and I didn’t feel as alone, but there was still some loneliness. When she invited me for Christmas, I didn’t know what to expect, but I went out and bought some little gifts that somehow I knew would be just right. But nothing really made sense. Then I met everyone…”

 “Ye’ were made tae be a part o’ this family,” Ellen smiled. “Ye were made tae meet Jamie an’ bring father and son and grandson together. So, as part of this family, ye’ll never feel alone…”

 Before Ellen could continue, the door downstairs slammed open and Jenny’s excited yells for anyone could be heard, which automatically brought a smile to both Ellen and Claire’s faces. They knew what Ian’s intentions were when he took Jenny out today, so, they were excited to see the ring.

 “We’re up in Jamie’s room,” Ellen called in response to her daughter.

 “Mam, mam, I’m getting’ marrit,” Jenny almost yelled as she came into the room. “Ian’s asked me to marry him, an’ I said aye.”

 “Ye’d be daft no’ tae,” Ellen jokingly replied as she took her daughter’s hand to admire the engagement ring. “That man is gaga for ye’, an’ has been fer years. Congratulations, my girl.”

 “Thanks, mam,” Jenny said as she threw her arms around her mum in joy. “Look Claire.”

 “Oh, it’s gorgeous, Jenny,” Claire said as she held Jenny’s hand to steady it, ensuring she got a good view of the ring. “You are one lucky girl.”

 “I’m going to go down and check on my clootie dumplin’,” Ellen said. “Just give me a shout if ye want me tae look efter Fergus fer ye’, Claire.”

 “Thank you for lunch, Ellen,” Claire said, tearing her eyes away from the ring for a second. “We should be good with Fergus. We’re just about to put a film on, so everything should be fine.”

 “An’ give us a shout if ye need a hand wi’ anythin’ mam,” Jenny returned. “Just because Claire an’ I are goin’ tae talk about my ring, doesnae mean ye cannae shout on us.”

 Ellen nodded her head and took the tray downstairs, leaving the plates for Claire and Fergus, Ellen went back down to continue with her baking, leaving Claire and Jenny to gush about the morning’s events.

 “First thing’s first,” Jenny said once Claire had put Toy Story on for Fergus to watch. “As my only sister, will ye’ be my maid of honour?”

 “Of course,” Claire gushed immediately. “I’d love to be your maid of honour…”

*** 

 The afternoon wore on, and soon it was time to start getting ready. Ellen had volunteered to get Fergus dressed since Claire and Jenny had lost track of time talking and were running short on time to get themselves ready. Claire’s outfit was reasonably simple, but she needed the time to try and focus on her hair. Jenny and Louise managed to fashion Claire’s hair into an acceptable messy bun, while Claire applied some light, natural makeup.

 “Jamie is going to love you in this,” Jenny smiled as she arranged Claire’s tartan sash correctly, then her own. “A little black dress is always a good idea for a Ceilidh, but the way yers clings in all the right places and paired with our Tartan, I don’ know if Jamie will be able tae keep his hands tae himself.”

 “Oiu,” Louise agreed. “I have seen how he is with you at the best of times. But we will have to make sure we get a photo of the three of you tonight.”

 “Aye,” Jenny agreed. “Yer first Hogmanay as a wee family. An’ Fergus is going to be so adorable in his wee kilt.”

 Before Claire could answer them, there was a knock on Jenny’s door. “Will ye three witches hurry up, we’ll be late, an’ we cannae hae that, da’s lighting the bonfire.”

 “William Simon Murtagh MacKenzie Fraser, ye little…” Jenny yelled as she chased her brother away from her door, followed by Claire and Louise’s laughter.

 Claire and Louise grabbed their bags, and Claire also grabbed Jenny’s before heading downstairs. Claire was knocked breathless when she saw Jamie and Fergus standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting on her. They were in matching black Jacobite shirts (as Jenny had explained when Claire bought it) and their own Fraser tartan kilts. The three of them truly were matching, like a little family tonight.

 Suddenly, Jamie’s eyes were drawn to Claire on the stairs, almost as if he had a sixth sense that was attuned to only her, and his jaw dropped open. “Claire,” he whispered almost reverently, and moved to the bottom of the stairs and held his hand out to her. “Ye’ are truly a beauty to behold, Sassenach.”

 “Thank you, Jamie,” Claire replied as she ducked her head to try and hide the blush adorning her cheeks. “And you and Fergus are truly perfect gentlemen, waiting on your lady at the bottom of the stairs to escort her to the party.”

 “You look pretty, M’lady,” Fergus said with an awestruck look on his face.

 “Thank you, Fergus,” Claire said as she scooped him into her arms. “And you look so grown up in your kilt.”

 “Right everyone,” Brian’s voice called out. “Let’s get going.”

“Let me get a picture of Jamie, Claire an’ wee Fergus first,” Ellen said as she came bustling into the hallway with her camera. Brian just shook his head and watched as his wife fussed about their son and his apparent new family, getting them into position and making sure she was taking the perfect photo.

 Once the photo was taken, everyone piled out to the cars and headed off to the town hall to begin the festivities to bring in the new year.

 ***

 The party was going well, the weather had stayed dry, so the bonfire was a success, and soon the band made the announcement that it was ten minutes to midnight. Claire and Jamie had been dancing away on the dancefloor while Fergus had been napping under the watchful eyes of Ellen and Brian.

 “’M goin’ to get Fergus,” Jamie said as the 10-minute warning was given. “I want tae ring in the Bells wi’ ye’ an’ Fergus in my arms.”

 “Okay,” Claire said with an encouraging smile, letting Jamie know that was exactly what she wanted too.

 Jamie soon returned with a groggy little boy in his arms, but as soon as they reached Claire, Fergus appeared to be more awake. Almost as if Claire’s presence was a tonic to his sleepiness.

 “It’s almost time to shout happy new year,” Claire said to Fergus, and Fergus reached out to Claire. Jamie handed him over to her and wrapped both of them in his large arms and began to sway back and forth with them while they waited on the countdown to begin.

 “10…” the band leader began, and everyone joined in. “9...8...7...6…5...4...3...2...1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

 “Happy new year,” Jamie said as he pressed his lips to Claire’s and pulled her and Fergus in closer to him. “Happy new year, Fergus.

 “Happy new year, Jamie,” Claire said as she pulled away from Jamie’s kiss. “Happy new year, Fergus.”

  “Happy new year, da’,” Fergus said as a wide smile split his face in two, turning from Jamie to Claire. “Happy new year, mam!”

Master List

[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, Unreachable Chapter 13.

With thanks to @balfeheughlywed she has the patience of a saint. @notevenjokingfic for allowing me to test her patience and @ladyviolethummingbird for explaining her confusion. These gals rock. I want to thank @missclairebelle because she helped me plot some of what is about to unfold here at the very beginning of this Arc. Thank you to you all for continuing to read, love the anons, still haven't got through them all. The reaction this story creates blows me away. 

Jamie's monosyllabic voice recording answered. "Hi, this is Jamie, leave a message after the beep.”

Plummeting my heart into my shoes. Again. 

 Where are you?

  ____

Willie wriggled impatiently within my grasp bringing my attention back to him.

“dinna hold my hand mama! We’re past the gate.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, cheeks burning the same crimson Jamie’s did when he was embarrassed.

 With one final tug, he broke free and ran up the school path. "What about my kiss?" I shouted after him, prodding myself in the cheek and pouting my lips slightly. Willie rolled his eyes for a second time but dutifully ran back and kissed me quickly.

“See ye later mama” he bellowed as he pushed the school door open and let it bang noisily behind him. I tutted in my mind as I saw him drag his bag haphazardly behind him down the glass corridor.

 Glancing back down at my phone I willed it to ring. It had been three days since the book arrived and after foolishly waiting until the next day to contact Jamie for fear I would draw attention to him.  I tried his number with all attempts to reach him falling flat.   My chest felt bruised from the hard thrum of my heart against it, persistent and unusually fast. It was so unlike him.

 Since our return to Boston, Jamie had phoned religiously. I had only taken his call on the first occasion and passed the phone to Willie for all the others.

 I walked quickly back to the house, I still had a few hours before my shift at the hospital.

 My mind raced with possibilities of why he had turned his phone off, what had caused him to stop ringing Willie? No matter what had happened since our return to Scotland Jamie had rung consistently. A guilty feeling tugged at my insides. Maybe if I had taken his calls, instead of fobbing the phone on to Willie, I might have some idea where he was, what was happening. I should have trusted him. The other part of my brain tried to comfort me, you couldn’t have known, he didn’t tell you.

 I hadn't planned on ignoring him as I had; the first call once we returned had thrown me. I expected something totally different from him, needed it. Instead, he had turned everything on its head and left me reeling.  

 The idea of Jamie with Geneva was hurtful; beyond hurtful given what she had conspired to do to our family but even after Dougal confirmed it. Something inside of me kept a glimmer of hope, or maybe something more akin to trust that Jamie wouldn't do that. He was honorable, not just with me, with his family, his friends. Apart from getting with me at Jenny’s wedding, he had never appeared to be a man that would cheat and to cheat so blatantly.

 Even then he had ended things with Laoghaire before we slept together. It was no excuse, but there was a pull between us, a pull so strong I would have done the same in his shoes had our roles been reversed, no man would keep me from Jamie, and a voice inside my head was telling me that no woman would keep me from him.

 So when he phoned on our first evening back in Boston, I had imagined for him to have a reason, an excuse. I hadn’t predicted the vagueness on the other end of the phone. There was no doubt about his nerves, his voice was clearly shaking, but he lacked any words to tell me what the hell was happening there, never mind what was happening with Geneva Dunsany.  

 The tremor in his voice should have told me he wanted to say more than he did, but I was so angry, so much had happened in forty-eight hours. I didn’t hear what I should have.

 “Ye went back early”, he had said cautiously.

 It hadn’t been what I was expecting. My mouth incapable of speech had hung agape as  I stood in my kitchen, clenching the hem of my sweater with such vigour I thought it might rip.

 He took my silence for what it was and began to speak again.

 “Jenny told me.”

 I presumed he meant Jenny had told him I had gone back to Boston early.

 He cleared his throat and hesitantly, all most painfully said “Claire –”

 I had waited, holding out for something, words of comfort anything that would ease the ache in my chest at what I had been led to believe about him and Geneva.

 Jenny had told him, he knew what I believed or was led to, he knew the pain and humiliation I had felt since she had answered his phone and laughed seductively, before telling me that Jamie couldn’t come to the phone.

 If she could have conjured up an image and hurled it down the line to me that night it would have been her curled around his hips, holding his phone in the air while she threw her head back and laughed at my stupidity.

 I had gone to bed that night in a mixture of alcohol, rage and broken-hearted tears. In the morning I had stilled my mind and my heart and told myself that Geneva Dunsany was capable of these types of games and so much more, promising myself that Jamie would have an explanation.

 Jenny had arrived with coffee and pancakes from Ellen, and reassured me as only she could that Geneva was a desperate slapper and “Jamie wouldna risk the clap to lie with her.”

 I snorted into my coffee, my heart slowly unwinding to its normal rhythm when she took my hand and said: "honestly Claire, Jamie is too in love with ye to want another woman, its nay true and he will tell ye."

 Later on, showered and ready for the day I was wrestling with Willie to dress him when Dougal Mc Kenzie had knocked on my door. “A word lass?” was all he had said before barging past me.

 Shooting me his most sympathetic smile and telling me clearly and without preamble that Geneva had phoned him to tell him of my late night call.

 “How truly sorry she was that ye should find out in such a way. She and Jamie would never want to hurt ye.”

 Shoulders straight and head held high. I had merely asked him to leave before emptying the contents of my stomach down the toilet.

  Twenty-four hours later and back in the safety of my galley kitchen in Boston, Jamie’s name flashing on my screen with the same urgency that would draw me to answer it without hesitation, without a conscious thought but the need to hear him tell me it wasn’t true. I wanted to curl into the shelter of his shoulder and have him tell me there was no one but me, that Geneva Dunsany had robbed his phone and Dougal Mc Kenzie had not spoken an honest word in all his life. It hadn’t gone down like that.

 “Claire I – “

 Please make it better.

 “Remember what I asked ye?”

 Was he serious? That just on a whim, on a promise I had made before I heard directly he was sleeping with someone else. He wanted me to honour my promises?

 When he had asked that, I thought he meant trust him not to get arrested, trust him to come back, trust him to love me. God, I didn't think he was asking me to fucking trust him to insanity.

 “Can – you – explain? I had hissed out between gritted teeth.

 A pause that went on too long, because if he could explain this nightmare, he shouldn't need time.

 I heard him take a large intake of breath, and something like a sniff, maybe a sob. I didn't move didn't flinch. Waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

 His words were choked with emotion; I didn’t need to see his face to know it was buried into his palm.

 “I – love – you.” He had all but whispered, slow and precise, for a minute I had taken it as a balm before I realised that wasn’t what I asked.

 I had asked him to explain, and he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

 Loving me wasn’t the issue, had he fucked her?  Could he tell me what the hell was happening?

 “I need more than that Jamie.” My tone did not broker argument; he knew he had one chance before I was gone from this conversation.

 "Right now - I canna say anything other than that Claire." Each word punctuated angrily, and his breath was brimming with frustration.

 I had said nothing other than “I will put Willie on; I have nothing more to say.”

 ____

 That had been seven weeks ago, I refused each and every one of his calls, handing the phone to our son. Willie blurting out the highlights of his day, ranging from “and then Johnny said let’s put a straw in the milk – " to "I dinna like Julie sitting beside me Da, she smells like flowers it makes me sneeze." I had no idea what Jamie advised on his end, and I tried to walk into another room. This way it would be easier. Each evening Willie returned the phone with the same message. "Da says he loves ye.”

 Up until the book arriving I would grind my teeth or clench my fingernails into my palm to stop myself retorting "tell your father I said to fuck right off." I never would but the fear of it blurting out of my hot-tempered mouth was a risk I had to prepare for.

 Now I would give anything to have him ring, wanting to know he was ok, that I believed him, that I loved him too.

  After dropping Willie to school and safely ensconced inside my living room I was desperate for any information I could find on Hellwater, anything that might fill in the gaps of what Jamie was doing. Sitting bow legged on my living room floor, laptop cradled precariously between my legs, I typed in Hellwater and almost held my breath as I waited on the page to populate with search results.

Nothing glaringly criminal jumped out at me, Hellwater’s official webpage, media articles discussing the estate and its history, and various Olympic games news reports that mentioned Hellwater for training and breeding of horses. I knew from Jenny that some of these high bred horses had originated from Jamie and was the main reason why William Dunsany had been so taken with Jamie.

Below all these articles was one solely focused on Lord William Dunsany himself, again nothing stood out as new information, he had inherited his title, the Dunsany family had held Hellwater estate for generations, and in the past ten years, they had won numerous awards for being the most accomplished equestrian centre in Europe.

Under personal history it listed William Dunsany as married with three children. I knew of only two daughters. Gordon. One son? I hadn’t heard of him. I opened a second tab and typed in the name. The first link that popped up on my screen was an article detailing the death of Gordon Dunsany almost six years ago. The only son of Lord and Lady Ellesmere, died tragically while abroad in Panama. Very little else apart from listing his previous employment as financial controller of Hellwater estates. So Geneva had taken over from her brother?

Typing Geneva's name into the browser was much less satisfying, and certainly no mention of her untimely demise. Instead, it showed a few images of her pictured at some D list royal events, a few polo matches and more recently at a charity gala in aid of injured jockeys.

I noted the date was the same night Dougal Mc Kenzie had come for dinner and subsequently the night I went on to hear her high pitched giggle on Jamie's phone. I searched up all images of the charity gala, but Jamie was either not photographed or didn't attend. He certainly had no word of attending a fundraiser, but he had said so little about what he was doing in Hellwater, him not mentioning it wasn't significant.

The second article in a financial publication mentioned Geneva taking on the position of financial controller at Hellwater; it was dated one year after her brother died. Listing her educational background which all seemed to be science-based. If the article was accurate, she had very little accounting or financial training.

A weird sense of sadness passed over me at the tragedy which had befallen the Dunsany's, leading to Geneva having to leave everything she had pursued to fill her dead brother's shoes. My mind stretched to wonder how a family who had been through such heartache could be so underhanded in their dealings with Jamie, knowing it separated him from his family.

I was just about to close the article down when I noticed a third link detailing the recent upsurgence in Hellwater business ranking. It also consisted of a paragraph with information on the new state of the art, equestrian centre that would commence construction this year with a budget of over 10 million sterling at its disposal.

A sprig of jealousy tightened over my heart as it occurred to me that I had wholly underestimated Geneva Dunsany in terms of her ability within her job and also in her want of Jamie.

My phone vibrated on the floor beside me, and I almost keeled over in my haste to answer it. My heart sank when I saw Jenny’s name flash up on my screen.

"Hi, Jen," I said feigning brightness. I knew how worried the Frasers had been about Jamie, I couldn’t even attempt or want to tell them what I had discovered in the past three days. Brian would be back in ICU and Jamie would never forgive himself.

“Claire – “

She sounded like she had been running. “Are you alright Jenny, what’s wrong?”

“Oh my god” –  she said more urgently than I had ever heard her speak – “ have ye seen any UK news?"

I scrunched my nose up in confusion before she all but shouted.

 “Turn on yer UK news!" I hastily scrambled across the floor to my TV, fingers slipping as I tried to think of a channel that had good coverage of British news reports, settling on BBC news and waiting for the screen to adjust.

My eyes blinked, once and then again as I made sure it was Hellwater grounds I was staring at. Two uniformed officers standing guard outside the main gates, one talking casually into their radio transceiver.

A red banner at the bottom of the screen read. Lord William Dunsany and his daughter Geneva Dunsany have been arrested in an early dawn raid at their Hellwater estate, this morning.

A bead of sweat ran down my neck as I waited for the news banner to update.

Lord Dunsany and his daughter have been charged under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act and were under investigation by HM Revenue and Customs Police and Criminal Evidence team.

Suddenly the picture above the banner changed, and Geneva Dunsany appeared on the screen handcuffed and been led from her home by several plain closed policemen.Her father following closely behind her.

Her head bowed to hide her face as she was guided through a maze of photographers and television crews.

A report stood in front of the Hellwater estate, holding a finger to her ear in anticipation of a question from the news-desk. Her British accent was bright and chirpy as she detailed the little information that could be released at this time.

The arrest is said to be in connection with one of the largest tax fraud cases the HMRC has investigated in recent years. Both intrusive surveillance and property surveillance had been practiced under the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000, and it is believed the Dunsany’s have been under investigation by the HMRC for some time. The Dunsany family have declined to comment at this stage.

My legs gave way, and I fell back awkwardly against the couch. I could still hear Jenny's voice asking if I was there from the phone on the floor.

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: How about one of the stories from Grandfather Tales -- the book Jamie printed when he and Claire went back to Scotland?

Author’s Note: This one is loosely based on the fairy tale Tikki Tikki Tembo.

Other Grandfather Tales

by @abbydebeaupreposts

“Da, Da, Da!” Ian Murray glanced down to see his son tugging on his sleeve. It was getting toward nightfall, but the children had been indefatigable. Not even sitting them all down for dinner had quieted them. Still, it was a special kind of joy to see Og with his cousins. As if that thought had conjured her up, he caught a flash of Bree’s red hair mid-swing as she was tagged by Jem. “Yer it!” he shouted with glee and escaped the long reach of her arm. It was so good to have them back on the Ridge. His eyes swept across the campfire taking in the sight of his mother and his uncle leaning against each other in companionable silence, like him, both content to watch all the children running and playing in the meadow just beyond.

His auntie Claire was helping Rachel put things away for the evening and Roger still wasn’t back from the springhouse with the jugs of ale.

He felt another sharp tug and stared into the sun kissed face of his son, “What is it, a bhalaich?” 

“What’s thee names?”

“What? My names?” Ian wondered what he meant. Og still had a tendency to mix his prepositions. 

“No Da, thee,” he said pointing to his own chest, “All them.” Og bounced up and down on his heels and made a wide sweeping gesture to encompass just about everybody in his field of view.

“He wants to know his middle names,” this explanation coming from Mandy who had intercepted her father and was now carrying a jug that looked heavy in her arms. Ian quickly plucked it from her, pouring himself a generous glass. When he didn’t immediately respond, Mandy went on, “I’m Amanda Claire Hope MacKenzie and Jemmy is Jeremiah Alexander Ian Fraser MacKenzie, Da is Roger Jeremiah Wakefield MacKenzie and Mam is Brianna Ellen Randall Fraser MacKenzie and Grandda is—.”

“Ah, like the way I am Ian James Fitzgibbons Fraser Murray,” Ian noted. 

“And Okwaho'kenha,” Rachel said using his Mohawk name. She scooped Og up and held Ian’s gaze. He could read her like a book, and knew he was going to be fielding this one. 

“Well Og, the plain truth of it is, yer name is just plain Og Murray. We thought we’d pick out a  name for you in the Mohawk fashion when you got a bit older.” The real story was only slightly more complicated than that, but he could tell from the look on his son’s face neither of these explanations were going to satisfy him. What else could he say? It simply did not match with his mother’s Quaker upbringing nor his Mohawk traditions to give children ostentatiousness names at birth.  

Og, unfortunately, had been going through a why, why, why stage -- morning, noon and night -- of late. Now, he could tell his son was gearing up for a lengthy discourse on the subject and had no way to head him off at the pass. 

Salvation came in the form of a gravelly voice from across the fire pit, “You should tell him the real story.” Upon hearing his grandfather’s voice, Og squirmed until Rachel put him back down and he raced across the edge of the fire to strong arms that helped him climb onto his lap, Og pulling himself up by latching onto the man’s thick, white beard.

“Story? Thee tell, Moopa!” Og demanded. 

“Thee wants to hear it, then?” Murtagh gently teased, for prepositions were hard enough for a bairn to figure out, let alone one with a Quaker mother.

It had been Og who’d christened him Moopa and, of course, the name had stuck with all the rest of the bairns as well. He was pleased to have his own special family name. Murtagh accepted a glass of ale from Claire, who had returned and settled down beside him for what promised to be a good tale, if the smiles on Jamie and Jenny’s faces were any indication.

“This is a story about your other grandfathers,” he began and slowly all the other children came to settle around and listen as well, “Yer Grandda Jamie and your Grandpa Ian, ye ken the one in Scotland?” Murtagh look down at Og. 

“Oh, Lallybroch,” he breathed. Og had been told enough stories for the Highlands to occupy a place of almost mystical wonder in his imagination.

“Aye, just so, my lad. Wayback when your grandfathers were around Jem’s age, they had been given charge of the stables, the watering and feeding of the horses.” 

At this Og uttered the Cherokee word for horses and, hearing it, Ian shared a private smile with Rachel. “Well, it was getting to harvest season and yer great grandfather, the one they called Black Brian,” this time it was Jem’s turn to exclaim, “Dubh!” Ian watched as Jamie shot his grandson a look of startled appreciation, it had been a long time since he’d heard anyone call his father by that name. 

“Aye, that’s what they called him,” Jenny agreed. 

“Believe it or no, Granny Jenny’s hair used to be black as night, just like our father’s,” Jamie said, patting his sister’s knee.  

“Ye may be younger than me, my lad, but do ye ken ye have almost as much silver on yer heid as me?” Her eyes danced. 

“The boys, puffed wi’ self-importance at being given such responsibility, began well enough, mucking the stables and getting the hay. But they soon tired of lugging heavy buckets of water between the well and the stables. Yer Grandda got it into his head to have some fun with poor Grandpa Ian and next thing he knew, a bucket had been dumped right o’er his head. That made your Grandpa so angry that he turned quick as lightning and went after Jamie.”

“Aye, charged me just like that daft bull up in the north pasture,” Jamie confirmed.

“It’s hard to picture Ian going on the attack,” Bree laughed, remembering her gentle uncle as more of a peacemaker than a fighter. 

“No… not after the leg, that’s true enough,” Murtagh agreed.

“In his prime, though,” Jenny said, “He was a canty wee fighter. But he got the best of Jamie wi’out landing a single blow.”

“What happened?” Germain demanded. At that, Murtagh snorted and gave all the children a look full of mirth. 

“Jamie was so surprised, he backed all the way up to the edge of the well and the next thing he knew, he went arse over teakettle, straight into the well!” At this the children let out delighted shrieks of laughter, and the adults all smiled at the abashed look on Jamie’s face. “Well, now, luckily he didna hit his head on his way down; but he was trapped, and good. Stuck there at the bottom of the well. He couldna climb out, for the stone was slippery and Ian wasna strong enough to lift him all by himself using the rope. Try as they might, he and Ian couldna figure out how to get him out of there.”

“Aye, the worst part was the chores werena done. I thought if Da came back and saw me trapped, he’d likely throw Ian in after me. So, I told Ian to run quick as he may and get help.” Jamie told them. 

“I was out back, plucking a chicken,” Jenny added, “Feathers all over my hair. I was sweet on him, even then, and thought I must look a fright but even so I kent he looked worse. All red in the face, wheezing and a look of terror about him. Lord, I thought something terrible had happened to Jamie.” 

“Something terrible did happen to Jamie…” Jamie put in and Claire laughed. 

“I meant,” Jenny said with the exaggerated patience of someone who has had this argument many times before, “Something really terrible, and the longer it took him to spit it out the more worried I became.” 

“What did Ian finally say?” Claire asked. 

“He said,” Murtagh cut in, rolling his eyes at Jamie and Jenny for interrupting his flow, “‘James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser has fallen into the well!’ That’s why it took him so long to get it out. Ye ken there were several Jamie Frasers living around those parts back then and so he needed to tell the whole name. And yer Granny Jenny said, ‘Oh my lord, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser has fallen into the well! Ye must go find Murtagh!’ And so poor Ian didna even have time to catch his breath and he had to set off again, all over Lallybroch desperate to get my help before Jamie’s Da came back. And at every croft he has to say the same thing, ‘James Alexander Malcolm McKenzie Fraser has fallen into the well, is Murtagh here?’ It took forever for him to get that great long name out over and over again. By the time word reached me, it was too late. Brian had returned. Between the three of us, we managed to get Jamie out of the well. By that time the poor lad was an ice cube. I’m surprised wee pieces of his backside didna crack off with each lash his Da laid down. I dinna think either lad sat down for two days after.”

“God, ‘twas true, there I was shiverin’ and shaking so hard I swear I could hear my balls rattling in-” Jamie abruptly closed his mouth, turning red as he suddenly remembered the women and children. Murtagh gave him a look and he saw more than one of the boys absently touching their own laps in sympathy. 

“The next day, I overheard Jamie and Ian talking, and Jamie says, ‘God man, what took you so long?’ And Ian, still smarting from the strapping he got from Brian and then the ten extra his own Da added, turned around, all red in the face and steaming and he said ‘I’d like to see ye do better! Running around the countryside yelling out a name like James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. If I had been the one who fell, it wouldna have taken ye all of two seconds to say Ian Murray and I’ll tell ye now, if I never ever have to say that long name again it will be too soon!’” 

“Oh Christ, poor Ian,” Jamie said wiping tears of laughter, “I’d forgotten that part.” Jamie nudged his sister’s leg. “Come to think of it, I dinna think he ever did say my full name out loud again. When I became a mercenary in France, he shortened my name altogether, introduced me as Jamie MacTavish.”

“And so, wee Og Murray, not long before yer parents got marrit, Ian went back to see Grandpa in Scotland and yer Grandpa told yer Da that story. Then, made his son promise that he’d take better care and no’ burden his grandson with a muckle-sized name. The shorter the better, that’s the moral of that tale!”

[fallenqueen2]

Returned Home [13-Nowhere Boys]

Returned Home Ao3 Link

Felix peered up at the Riles house before back at his phone with the message from Sam that told him to be at Jake’s place that evening with a load of emoji’s that had Felix shaking his head.

“Felix! You got Sam’s message too?” Andy waved his arm in the air in greeting to Felix as the water element huffed up to the Riles house, his dark hair flopping in his face as he moved.

“Yeah along with an excess amount of emoji’s,” Felix said as he shoved his phone into his jean’s pockets as the two made their way up to the front door together. Andy had just only knocked when Sam ripped the door open and beamed at the two.

“You’re finally here! Come on in dudes! We are having a movie night!” Sam tugged Felix and Andy into the house, Andy laughing at Sam’s antics while Felix fondly rolled his eyes.

“Hey guys,” Jake greeted them as he looked up from setting down snacks, pillows, and blankets in the living room of his house.

“So what are we watching?” Andy asked excitedly as he dropped down onto the armchair and Felix plopped down into the empty space between Sam and Jake.

“Look!” Sam pointed at the television as the menu appeared and Felix covered his eyes with his hand dramatically.

“Why are we watching Twilight? Are you trying to make me want to gouge my eyeballs out?” Felix whined as he went to get up off the couch, but an arm wrapped around his waist.

“Gah!” Felix shouted in surprise as he was yanked backward onto the couch by Sam, he was tucked between the two jocks while Andy was still curled up on the spare chair.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere tonight.” Sam grinned as he adjusted his arm on Felix’s waist while Jake draped his arm over the Goth’s shoulders.

“Why this movie then?” Felix whined, subconsciously leaning into the heat excluding from both teens, propping his feet up onto the table in front of him.

“Because we figured that you would enjoy making fun of this movie more than watching any old movie,” Jake explained sounding smug.

“Why would you guys do that?” Felix looked at them, confusion was evident on his face.

“You’re our friend Felix and we noticed you looked a bit stressed lately,” Sam explained softly and Felix blinked slowly.

“I… I didn’t, I mean.” Felix stammered out, looking down at his hands that were resting on his lap.

“Just relax and watch the movie.” Sam nudged his shoulder against Felix’s.

“Alright, alright.” Felix gave them all a smile before they settled in for a night of making fun of Twilight.

Felix will admit it felt odd that he wasn’t doing this without Ellen, but the comments the other boys made were more creative than Felix first would have thought.

Sam snatched the remote off the coffee table about halfway through the movie and paused it on Bella’s face before turning a massive grin on Jake.

“What? What’s with the face?” Jake asked when he noticed the wide smile being pointed at him.

“Will you make us your world famous BLT’s?” Sam asked, fluttering his eyelashes making Felix and Andy laugh while Jake let out a dramatic groan and fell back against the couch.

“I don’t think they are world famous,” Jake grumbled as he rose from the sofa and headed towards the kitchen. Sam followed the taller teen like an eager puppy only causing Andy and Felix to laugh louder as they followed behind the two.

“It’s my mom’s favorite and I am a master of grilling the bacon perfectly,” Jake said as he moved methodically and by memory around the kitchen as he gathered what he needed to make the requested BLT’s, plus one for her mom when she got home from her double shift.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Felix said teasingly, chuckling when Jake playfully elbowed him while letting the butter melt on the heating pan.

“Ye of little faith,” Jake shook his spatula at the other three before falling into the zone while he cooked. He was thankful the others didn’t say much while he cooked and he realized it was nice. It was nice having others around him while he cooked, maybe he should break out that cookbook his aunt had gotten him a few years back and give cooking another shot.

“Ta-da,” Jake said smugly minutes later as he set the plate of perfect BLT’s down in front of his friends and began to wrap up another plate for his mom for when she got home.  

“Jake,” Andy said in awe as he stared down at his sandwich in something like awe while Felix closed his eyes as he chewed slowly.

“This is amazing, legit the best BLT I’ve ever had dude!” Sam exclaimed with his usual excitement as he tore into his sandwich. Jake hid his blush in his own sandwich as the four of them ate at the table that separated the living room and the kitchen from each other.

“Well if football doesn’t work out for you, cooking is for sure in your future,” Felix commented idly and the other two made noises of agreement around their own mouthfuls of BLT’s.

“Thanks, guys,” Jake murmured as he took another bite and decided he would find that cookbook and give it another shot

Sarah Riles came home from her double shift and was greeted with the adorable sight of her son and his friends sleeping peacefully in the living room.

Jake had relaxed in the corner of the couch, arm draped over Felix’s shoulders, holding him close to his chest, the dark-haired boy was passed out on her son’s chest while Sam’s legs were dropped over the end of the couch and his head was resting on Felix’s lap. Felix’s right hand was tangled in Sam’s hair and his left hand was resting across Jake’s lap. Andy was curled up in the chair, a blanket tucked around him and a pillow shoved under his head as he softly breathed in his sleep.

Sarah smiled happily as she tip-toed across the room to grab the camera resting on the counter, she picked it up and took a photo of the boys fast asleep and made a note to start creating a photo album to document all these little moments.

Her Jake was good at sports but he hadn’t been the best at making friends who would last through thick and thin. Whatever happened in the forest while these four were lost changed all of them and it brought them closer together. It was odd nowadays to see one of them alone; they usually traveled together all four of them or paired off in two’s. Sarah made another mental note to ask the other three’s parent’s if they wanted copies of the photo’s and see if they had gotten any to add to a photo album.

Sarah smiled as she saw a BLT wrapped up with a sticky note with ‘mom’ written on it waiting for her in the fridge and dishes from the making of the sandwich soaking in the sink. Her Jake was truly one of a kind and she was glad people were finally seeing that.

[renee-writer]

A Strange New World Chapter 25 A Wedding in a Kirk

As they all await the spring, Henry starts to crawl around, pulling himself up so he can cruise around the furniture. He was doing this one day while Claire showered. Suddenly he says,” Da da!” as he comes to Jamie.

“Henry did you say?” His da stares at him, his mouth wide open.

“Da da!” he says, holding on to the bedside with one hand while swinging the other around. “Da da!”

Jamie is beside himself. He lifts the lad into his arms and high in the air. Henry laughs and Jamie laughs.

“What is so funny?” Claire asks when she walks in, drying her crazy curls.

“Mon gaul, Henry said da.” Claire’s eyes get big and the towel from her suddenly boneless hands.

“Henry, did you say da?”

“Da da. Ma ma!” he shouts as his parents cry. Jamie hands him to his mam and she holds him close as tears run down her cheeks. “Ma ma?” he touches her wet cheeks with concern.

“Ma ma is just happy Henry.” She assures him.

“Da too.” They play with there almost one year old son until he nurses himself to sleep. He is placed in his own room. His da then makes sweet love to his mam.

“Jamie, will he come back?” she asks after.

“Who love?” he is pleasantly sleepy and not tracking well.”

“That man. Frank Taylor. I don’t want him anywhere near Henry.”

“I don’t think he will but, I will try to find out what become of the Randall’s in America. I know someone who can help. Would that make you feel better?”

“It would thank you.” She is able to relax against him and sleep.

The winter weekends are spent with Mary, Jenny, and Geillis. They play card games, discuss children and men, and plan for Jamie and Claire’s spring wedding in the kirk at Lallybroch. Claire is still leery of Geillis but she does nothing outwardly witchy and Claire slowly gets over her reservations.

One weekend, they start on her wedding dress. A mixture of this time and her time. It is a soft off white with an apron of Fraser tartan. Perfect. The lasses are also planning a hen party for her. She doesn’t know what it is until Jenny explains. Then she vetoes any heavy drinking. Willie, Brian, and a few other men are taking Jamie out for a rooster party that will include a lot of drinking.

Hers was more socializing and presents. Presents that cause a blush to cover her body. A tiny bit of see through red lace that show her nipples and that plunges down to her bum in the back.

“Geillis, I can not wear this!” she is shocked.

“It is for Jamie's eyes hen. I promise he will appreciate it.”

She got many more like that one. As well as some more practical, like new quilts for their bed and things to cook with.

Jamie stumbles in the room late. He is barely able to walk and when he speaks his voice slurs. “I sorry to be loud Claire.” He falls on the bed and Claire pushes him off of her. “Love you.” He mumbles before starting to snore. Despite his state, she has to smile as she cuddles in beside him.

The flowers are starting to open in the April sun the day of their kirk wedding. Jamie is nervous. He knows they are married but this is before a priest. Claire is equally as nervous.

Jenny and ma help her into the gown. Her hair is pulled up. Henry is dressed in his own Fraser kilt. He plays at her feet as she waits.

“Brian, come see our daughter.” He walks in and Henry crawls over to examine his grandsire’s boots.

“Ah lass, you are so beautiful!”

“Come wee lad. We are going to see da.” Ellen lifts her grandson up.

“Da da!”

Brian takes her arm and they follow. Jamie's eyes get big at the sight of his bride. Esquist on his da's arm. His son and bride take his breath away. Henry is handed to Mary to watch from the front aisle.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this woman?” Father Campbell asks.

“The Fraser's and I do.” Brian answers placing her hand in Jamie’s. The ceremony is simple and beautiful. They kiss and Henry yells out from Mary's arms until they include him with a laugh and tears. A wonderful occasion. Claire holds tight to her husband and son. She smiles thinking of her secret.

[backintime]

My Ranking of the New LSOH Soundtrack:

1. Prologue/Little Shop of Horrors: 10/10!  In every version (1982, ‘86, 2003 and 2019), this song sounds awesome, and it does so here too!  The Urchins are really fun.

2. Skid Row: Probably 6/10.  Like I mentioned earlier, Seymour doesn’t sound quite so downtrodden as I’m used to, but it sounds really good, just not quite right for the character.  Ditto for Audrey.  On further listenings, it could definitely grow on me, as Jonathan Groff and Tammy Blanchard’s voices did grow on me as the soundtrack progressed.  My favorite version is still the 1986 movie version, though.

3.  Da-Doo: 5/10.  It doesn’t help that this song is on the ‘skippable’ side to me, but again, Seymour still sounds a little off to me.  Favorite version is probably ‘86, though it sounds good in every version.

4. Grow for Me: 7/10!  I do really like this one, and the vocal work is good.  Jonathan Groff’s voice sounds super energized (it does the whole soundtrack) and it really sounds good, even if it doesn’t quite sound like Seymour to me yet.  Favorite version is probably still ‘86 again, with 2003 a close second.

5. Ya Never Know: 8/10.  This is such a fun one, and I love this Mushnik!  Again, this whole soundtrack sounds like there’s so much energy behind it.  The Urchins sound very knowing of events coming, making their section sound almost creepier than normal.  Again, vocals are incredible.  Favorite version is probably 2003 or this one!

6. Somewhere That’s Green: 7/10.  Nobody can top Ellen Greene, and Tammy Blanchard’s voice was just a bit different even than Tari Kelly.  This song is really hard to mess up unless it’s being overdone, and it’s not overdone here.  The final section especially really makes you feel it.  Favorite version is either the ‘82 or ‘86 version, again, there’s no topping Ellen Greene.

7. Closed for Renovations: 5/10.  It’s fun, but closer to the skippable side to me.  Again, I love Mushnik, and it doesn’t help that the song is just okay to me, but it’s decent.  Favorite version is 2003.

8. Dentist: 10/10.  My gosh, this is the best version I’ve heard besides the ‘86 movie.  There’s no topping Steve Martin, but Christian Borle is close, bringing a very similar manic energy that really makes the song pop.  This one is really easy to overdo or underdo, and I feel that this one hits it right on the mark.  Favorite is ‘86, with this as a close second.

9. Mushnik and Son: 10/10.  Again, I love this Mushnik.  This and Dentist have such high energy that it’s hysterical.  This song is hilarious in any version, but this one is officially my favorite.  The suddenly shouting, the breath-holding, the fact that this whole thing sounds like an insane threat, this is so funny.  Jonathan Groff sounds a little closer to Seymour to me here.  Absolutely the best.

10. Sudden Changes: 5/10.  I never considered this its own song before, just the prologue to Feed Me (which is one of my absolute favorites), but it’s done well.  Again, still not quite feeling Seymour’s character, but the voice for the plant is a lot of fun.  Favorite version is ‘86, just because of Rick Moranis’s delivery of ‘Twoey, that’s disgusting!’

11. Feed Me: 9/10!  Again, I adore this song.  The voice for Audrey Two is awesome, and towards the end here, Jonathan Groff really starts to sound closer to Seymour.  Actually, the further Seymour goes into ‘villainy’ the better he sounds.  But Kingsley Leggs steals the show here, again, the high energy really makes this song pop with a distinct sound.  Favorite is tied between this one and 86, with 2003 close behind.

12. Now (It’s Just the Gas) 6/10.  Like I said, the further Seymour goes down the path of darkness, the better he sounds in this version.  The high energy comes out in a different way, where the Dentist sounds far creepier in the beginning, and sounds totally unhinged as the song progresses, laughing the whole way.  Not as good as Dentist, (but what is?) but still good.  Favorite version is either ‘82 or 2003.

13. Act 1 Finale: 4/10?  Seymour’s screaming.  I get it’s creepy, but I liked it better when you just hear the plant’s laughter.  Point goes to 2003.

14. Call Back in the Morning: 5/10.  Another ‘skippable’ for me, but it’s still high energy and fun.  Audrey’s voice starts to sound more natural to me here.  Favorite is 2003 or this one.

15: Suddenly Seymour: 10/10.  My favorite duet ever.  Both singers really come into their characters here and again, they sound really good!  Tammy Blanchard runs off with the show here to me, which is saying something, since usually my favorite part of this song is Seymour.  Favorite is all of them at once, literally all of them.  (Probably ‘86 and this one if I was made to pick.)

16: Suppertime: 7/10.  Mushnik’s screaming at the end was a little....odd?  But I love Kingsley Leggs’s performance as the plant, very evil.  Props to Jonathan Groff (who by now sounds awesome as Seymour goes dark).  The way he says: “Just....knock” makes it so clear that this is an active choice and it’s bonechilling.  Favorite is 2003 tied with this one.

17. The Meek Shall Inherit: 5/10. The Urchins sound like A Lot here, and they and the other characters are really over the top (in my opinion).  Again, the darker Seymour goes, the better Jonathan Groff sounds, and his cries of ‘No!’ are absolutely incredible.  Loved it!  Favorite is ‘86, probably tied with ‘82, with 2003 and this one tied for next.

18. Sominex/Suppertime Part II 4/10: Tammy Blanchard doesn’t quite sound weirded out enough or frightened enough to me, but that could be the effects of the sominex.  Who knows?  Her delivery of “Yes!  No.” was more funny than heartbreaking.  Favorite version of this is ‘86 because it’s soul crushing.

19: Somewhere That’s Green Reprise 6/10.  Jonathan Groff nails the raw emotion in the dialogue, but I just don’t quite get it out of Tammy Blanchard here?  At least not yet.  I hope she grows on me with later re-listens.  The song itself is sweet and good though.  Favorite version is still ‘86 and 2003, again, soul crushing.

20: Da-Do Reprise: 10/10!  Holy smokes, again, Jonathan Groff’s raw, enraged delivery is amazing, his cry of “You ate the only thing I ever loved!” took me aback in the best way!  Audrey II sounds appropriately smug and unbothered as Seymour breaks down entirely, rendering the whole thing bonechilling.  This might be my favorite version of this, with 2003 behind it.  (Though I adore Mean Green Mother From Outerspace, that’s the replacement for this song, rather than the song itself.)

21: Don’t Feed the Plants: Another 10/10!  The Urchins sound creepy and all knowing. the rest of the cast nails it as well, coming across as both warning and genuinely fun.  This one and 2003 are probably my favorite!

I encourage anyone who likes the show (or the film) to check out the soundtracks for themselves (and let me know what you think, I’m curious!) and to check out @suddenlysomewherethatsgreen‘s thoughts on Tammy Blanchard as Audrey!  Merry Christmas!

[roxyspearing]

The Escape

A little something I dreamed up for @spngenrebingo :)

Word count: 789

Pairing/Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, Castiel, Jack, Grace (OFC - mentioned)

Warnings: mild swearing, minor threat to characters, Dean loves pie, mild groping of a male butt

Square filled: panic room

Coughing, you wave your hands in front of your face, trying to clear the smoke that was filling the room, smoke so thick that even the flashing red lights on the wall looked blurry to you.

 “Sam, Dean? Cas? Jack, where are you guys?!” You yell, hoping they can hear you, because to find them you're gonna have to ‘marco polo’ this shit.

 “Y/N? Was that you?” 

“Yeah, Sam, it's me. Do you know where anyone else is? I can't see a damn thing!”

“Jack was by the door, Dean's by the stairs, and I don't know – oof! And Cas is standing on my foot.”

"My apologies Sam.” Somewhere over to your right, you can hear Dean chuckling at his brother and the angel. 

“Right, Sam, Cas, don't move! We're coming to you.” You listen to the brothers shout back and forth before you start walking anywhere, hands in front of you to feel your way across. You've just walked around a table when you hear a grunt, and quickly turn and walk in that direc- 

“Whoa!! Hands to yourself Y/N!” Dean yells. 

“Shit! Sorry!” Jumping back, you bump into a familiar wall of muscle. “Shit.” “What just happened?” Sam asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and planting a quick kiss to the top of your head. 

“Your girlfriend just copped a feel, that's what.” 

“I'm sorry?!” 

“I had my hands out in front of me and I managed to grab Dean's butt.” You quickly explain, before turning to the older Winchester. “Why the hell were you bent over anyway?” 

“I dropped the flashlight as I got over here. I was picking it up.” 

“The flashlight that stopped working half an hour ago? Why do you even still have that?” 

“Might be useful.” 

“Useful how?!” You ask, but before Dean can open his mouth again, Cas interrupts. 

“Where is Jack?” 

“I don't know. Jack!!” Seconds pass, the four of you shouting Jack's name out, only to be met with silence. You've all started walking towards where Jack last was, Dean raising that flashlight above his head like it's a hammer, when.... 

🎶da da duh da, duh duh da🎶 

As the sound of a fanfare fills your ears, the lights stop flashing, and there's a whoosh as the smoke is sucked out by fans. Blinking, you can see Jack stood by an open door, a set of coloured switches and buttons on the wall beside it. 

“Congratulations! You have successfully completed the panic room! Please exit through the door, remembering to collect all your belongings on your way out.” A tinny, computerised voice replaces the fanfare. 

“Finally!” Dean exclaims, rushing past Cas and Jack, clapping the younger man on the back as he goes. 

“Nice work Jack.” Sam says as the two of you catch up to everyone else in the parking lot. 

“Thanks. I remembered the layout of the switchboard, so I just felt around when we got that last clue.” 

“Good memory kiddo! I thought you and Cas might struggle with not being able to use your powers, but you did good - Alright, calm down! We're coming!” You call out to Dean, who’s honking the horn like there's no tomorrow. Sliding into your normal seat behind Sam, you grab your stomach as it grumbles. “Good timing getting us out of that escape room when you did Jack! I'm starv- Dean? Where are we going?” 

“Home.” Dean grunts. “I need a beer and my bed.” 

“We said we would go to the diner after we finished. We didn't eat beforehand, remember?” 

“There's leftovers in the fridge.” 

“Oh. Sam, can you pass me my phone? I need to text Grace and tell her we're not coming. She's gonna be so disappointed.” 

“Who the hell is Grace?!” Dean asks, pulling up at a red light. 

“My friend who works at the diner. I told her we were coming over. She was looking forward to seeing you, Dean.” 

“Me?” Sam chuckles as his brother twists round in the seat to look at you. 

“Yeah. She told me she thinks you're hot. And she had even made her famous dessert. Such a waste.” You sigh, shaking your head as your fingers fly over your phone. 

“What’s her famous dessert?” Jack asks from beside you. 

“Apple and berry double stuffed pie. I have no idea how she man- whoa!” Grabbing onto the door handle to stop yourself flying into Jack, even though he's now practically sat on Cas' lap. 

“Why didn't you mention that earlier!?” Dean shouts, stepping on the gas as soon as Baby's stopped from the abrupt 180. “Hell, why did we even bother with that escape room nonsense? We could've been in the diner eating pie this whole time!”

Forevers and evers: 

@like-a-bag-of-potatoes  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing   @jayankles  @grace-for-sale    @atc74  @mrsbatesmotel53 @gryffindorofcabin21   @dolphinpink310  @goldenolaf25   @kdfrqqg  @ellen-reincarnated1967  @fictionalabyss @heyitscam99   @just-another-busy-fangirl   @amanda-teaches   @tn-grayson  @girl-next-door-writes   @feelmyroarrrr @blacktithe7   @masksandtruths  @maui137   @holyfuckloueh  @tina8009   @polina-93   @emoryhemsworth @whimsicalrobots   @x-waywardaf-x  @be-amaziing  @horsegirly99  @bitterstar88  @hunterswearingplaid    @deangirl7695 @thisismysecrethappyplace   @calaofnoldor  @randomparanoid  @flamencodiva

[bee-kathony]

Tales From Fraser’s Ridge | Roses

Previous Installments

Thank you @jules-fraser for my moodboard! 

Part 18: Roses | Jamie, Claire & Bree

I knelt down in my garden and with the help of Bree, we collected all of the fruits and vegetables that were ready to be harvested. I still hadn’t gotten used to her being back, home and safe with us. Every now and then I would get a flash of her red hair and be struck with a new wave of emotion.

I was looking over at her now, my hands frozen on a large carrot. She stood, wiping dirt from her skirt and looked over near the house.

“Those are new,” Bree pointed out the beautiful rose bush growing alongside the house.

I smiled, looking over at them and noticed how nicely indeed they were turning out. With a little bit of love and a lot of handwork, I had managed to find the perfect spot to let them grow.

“Yes, Jamie brought them home one day from the trading post,” I shielded my hand over my eyes from the blinding sun, “It’s just a short distance from here, the Beardsley’s trading post.”

“Beardsley’s?” Bree asked, “As in Josiah and Keziah?”

“The very ones. Of course it’s not them doing the trading.” I stood and walked closer to the house, leaving my basket of herbs in the garden. “It’s a rather long story to whom it belongs to,” I shivered, remembering the time Jamie and I found Fanny Beardsley in her home and the events that followed left us in the care of her baby, Alicia, until we managed to find a suitable home for her with the Brown’s.

“Didn’t Da say that his mother, Ellen had a rose bush at Lallybroch?” Bree followed closely behind me as I took a seat on the front step of the house.

“Yes she did, you’ll have seen them actually.” I smiled and stroked a lock of her hair, pushing it behind her ear. “He said his mother planted that late blooming rose bush and had tended to it up until she died.” Sighing, I ran my hand lightly over Bree’s back, tracing a circular pattern with the tip of my finger.

“When I was there the first time,” I looked over at Bree, “the rose bush was of course still there, it only needed some attention.”

“Did you bring it back to life, Mama?” My daughter laid her head against my shoulder.

“Yes, I suppose I did.”

_______

The sun was beaming down on my neck, their was dirt covering the bottom of my skirts. “Damn this rose bush!” I shouted, and kicked a bit of the dirt near the door.

“What did the rose bush ever do to ye, Sassenach?” Jamie said, creeping up behind me.

I put my hands on my hips, giving him a ‘try me’ look and he backed off instantly but not without first laughing at the state of me.

“I ken yer supposed to be one wi’ the earth and all, mo cridhe, but this,” he looked me slowly up and down, “is takin’ is truly to heart.”

I swatted my hand at him, hitting the sleeve of his shirt, “Oh stop it! How else am I supposed to tend to it?” Jamie walked closer, sliding one arm around my waist. “And you’re not exactly  squeaky clean, hmm.”

He looked down at his mud stained breeks, “Aye, yer right, Sassenach.” Jamie brought his other hand to my waist, pressing me flush against him. “I guess that means ye need to wash me down.” Jamie raised his eyebrows in a rather suggestive manner before kissing me.

“Oh does it now?” His lips were warm and tasted of salt, “I need to finish trimming this back and then I shall see to your dirty knees my Laird.”

Jamie moaned against my mouth, his hands leaving a trail of dirt along my sides, “My knees arena the only thing that are dirty my Lady.” His hands moved down to cover my arse and I felt almost guilty for being fondled so thoroughly right next to Ellen’s rose bush. It was as if she was there, watching, her presence lingering in the bright red blooms.

“I’ll ask you to Kindly remove your hands,” I squirmed out of his arms, “from my arse.”

Pouting, Jamie pressed his lips together tightly. “That’s no’ what ye said last night, Sassenach… if ye recall the way you —“

“Shhh!” I laughed, looking over at Mrs. Crook only a few feet away attending to the laundry.

“Fine,” Jamie turned towards the entrance to the house, “Tend to yer rose bush and then I expect ye upstairs and ready to wash!”

_________

Jamie had spent the evening rubbing off the dirt from my hands, kissing the tip of a finger every time one was sparkly clean. That was now more than 30 years ago… a lifetime.

“There’s Da,” Bree lifted her head from my shoulder and he spotted us the same time we saw him.

“My lovely lasses,” he called out to us, opening his arms as Bree rose to meet him and embraced her in a tight hug.

“I’m going to check on Mandy, she should be waking up from her nap soon,” Bree kissed Jamie on the cheek and turned to head back down to the smaller cabin.

I gave a gentle pat to the now vacant seat beside me and Jamie sat beside me, his arm quickly slipping around my waist.

“’Tis good to have her home, isn’t it, Sassenach? And the wee bairns.” He tapped his fingers lightly on my side.

“And Roger,” I added.

“Aye,” he laughed, “Him too.”

“Jamie…” I rested my head against his shoulder, “do you remember the time I fixed up your mother’s rose bush? At Lallybroch?”

He was silent beside me for quite some time and I wasn’t too sure if he’d even heard me. I turned my head up slightly to see him smiling.

“Oh aye, Sassenach. Ye were cursin’ and fightin’ the wee thing all day. And that evenin’…” His eyes met mine and I saw a fire blazing behind them, a deep desire I had been the subject of for many years.

“Why do ye speak of it?” Jamie placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

I ran my hand slowly along the inside of his palm, “Bree pointed out our own rose bush and I was just telling her how you bought them for me, as a reminder of your mother.”

“And a good reminder they are.” He sighed, I knew he would be thinking of Ellen and I wished as I did every time her name was mentioned, that I could have met the first woman in Jamie’s life.

“Since yer talkin’ of rose bushes, do ye perhaps need to clean any areas that are particularly dirty, Sassenach?” I lifted my head from his shoulder to meet his stare, his eyes a dark blue.

“I do have a bit of dirt on my hands, now that you mention it.” I brought one hand in front of his face for him to inspect.

He kissed my knuckles, the stubble of his cheek rasping roughly against my skin. “I was maybe hopin’ ye had dirt somewhere else.” Jamie slid his hand across my thigh.

“Jamie Fraser!” I laughed, squirming at his touch, “How on earth would I even get dirt there,” I nodded my head towards my thighs. “It would be impossible with these skirts.”

My belly was a tight bundle of nerves and my legs began to tremble slightly as he slid his hand across my ankle and up my calf.

“It wouldna be impossible, Sassenach.” He kissed the spot just under my ear, “I can think of a few ways it would be verra possible.”

Desperate to see just how he thought it was possible, I place my mouth firmly against his, begging for his hands to touch me further. He decided it was rather impolite to be touching me like this out on the front porch of our home, so he swept me up in his arms and carried me to our bed.

“Sassenach,” he groaned, “look at all that wee dirt between yer legs.”

I giggled like a child and spread myself open to him, “That’s not dirt, Jamie.”

“Och, it isn’t? I need to take a closer look.” Jamie bent his head between my legs, sending me over the edge with the distinct smell of roses drifting through the air.

[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, After Goodbye, Chapter 10

Thank you to @balfeheughlywed the goodbye bit is thanks to her. @ladyviolethummingbird Thank you!

My mouth curled up in a self-conscious smile, suddenly shy to say my goodbyes with Jamie’s family looking on. I wondered if they noticed our bruised lips and bitten necks. I tugged a curl around my finger and glanced over at Ellen and Brian pointing out flowers to Willie, allowing us a tiny window to say our goodbyes. Jenny stood under Ian’s arm sniffing into a hanky.

 Jamie had embraced them all told them he ‘wasna dying’, but I could see his throat bob up and down furiously, as he strained to show a brave face. He had come to the end of the line where I was standing arms hung awkwardly at my sides, not knowing what to do with them. Jamie had pulled me by the waist and bent to kiss me; I kept my hand curled into balls at his chest not wanting to let go.

 When his mouth met mine, we forgot where we were and deepened the kiss, trying to say with our mouths what we were incapable of with our voices. When Jamie’s tongue gently slid over mine, I heard gravel munching underfoot as Ian and Jenny shuffled away awkwardly. For a moment I didn’t care, wanting to live in him and have no one take him from me. Eventually, I sighed and said, “your parents will think I’m a disgrace.”

 Jamie gave me the most boyish smile “Claire they see the way I look at you when you’re not looking; they wouldn’t expect anything less of a goodbye from me, aye?.”

 A sudden lump invaded my throat, and I pulled him to me again, breaking away when I heard Willie’s voice getting nearer. Jamie through him up on his shoulder “remember what I told ye my lad?” as he mounted several kisses over our sons head and cheeks. “I amember da, mind Donas and mama” I rolled my eyes “did he tell you in that order?” I snickered rubbing my hand through his hair. “I canna remember mama” Willie answered solemnly.

I looked back at Jamie and saw him hastily rub his sleeve over his eyes, a lone tear had escaped his efforts and rolled down his cheek. Willie rubbed a little hand through Jamie’s hair, “dinna cry Da, nobody will take mama or Donas, while yer gone, I pwomise.”

 Now tears were falling unbidden from my own eyes, and I wiped them away quickly, placing Willie on the ground for a minute. “You got to go,” I said firmly, “traffic will be heavy” we both knew I meant we would end as trembling wrecks if we didn’t make a move soon. “aye,” Jamie said hoarsely eyes stuck to the ground.

 I gave him a few minutes to breathe, his head rising eventually to meet my eye,

 “Claire Beauchamp” – his tone clear and confident –“I love ye” he bent nearer my ear – “I will love ye forever” – when he leaned back to look down in my eyes he mouthed “trust me mo chridhe”

 Brian’s hand on his shoulder and Willie shouting “I love ye Da” was the only fragments I remembered before a trail of dust blew along the road as his jeep drove away... 

___________

In the few weeks since Jamie had been gone, the lack of his presence was felt everywhere, I felt guilty adding to the sombre mood by showing how much I missed him; instead I tried to throw myself into helping out around the farm and making sure Willie enjoyed his last few weeks in Scotland. Jamie phoned every night, wanting to hear every small detail of our day. He was reluctant to say much about what was happening in Hellwater, and I didn’t press him.

 Mostly I was glad of Ellen Brian and Jenny’s presence, the moment Jamie kissed both Willie and me goodbye and left Lallybroch they stepped up. Never allowing us too much time in the cottage and insisting we ate with them every evening. I was pitifully glad of it. Every inch of the cottage was a reminder of Jamie and escaping it helped. 

 Our tranquil routine at Lallybroch was rudely broken by the return of Dougal Mc Kenzie. He turned up unannounced and uninvited. Ellen’s reluctance to even admit him went over his head as he claimed to have come from visiting Hellwater and Jamie and wanted to let us know how he was doing. His attempt at sincerity didn’t win over his sister but his promise of been gone by morning not to return again if she wished, did the trick.

 Dougal had, for the most part, ignored me on his last visit to Lallybroch. Throwing me one assessing glance and commenting on my boniness to Jamie. Other than that I was a non-event for him.

 But since the Dunsany’s had approached Jamie to work at Hellwater, it had become apparent to Dougal that I was more unwanted baggage that rooted Jamie to Lallybroch and had been the main reason he had dug his heels in about working at Hellwater. Dougal hadn’t counted on Willie and me living in Scotland, in Dougal’s, Jamie might have been more agreeable to Hellwater, and they would not have had to threaten him with the demise of Lallybroch.  But Jamie had been furious, and the Dunsany’s and Dougal had unleashed their outrageous tactics.  His relationship with his sister and brother in law was irreparably broken.

  _____________

 Dougal Mc Kenzie sat staring at me intently from across the dinner table, cutting through a story Jenny had been telling, he tilted his head in my direction and asked how I had been since Jamie’s departure.

 While he waited for a response he busied himself examining a morsel of food on his fork when my response was a nonverbal glare, he tried again.

  “Jamie seemed well fashed about leaving ye,” – I continued to stare back at him – “although” he added in a contemplative sigh “when I visited him last week, he seems to be settling nicely in at Hellwater.”

  Don’t take the bait.

  “We have been busy here”,  I replied evenly, keeping my gaze directed into the bottom of my wine glass, rolling the red liquid around in my hand.

 Dougal’s hand slapped against the table jubilantly. “I kent as much, I told Jamie so” he downed the remnants of his wine in one swallow and leaned across the table, his voice brightening considerably.

 “Ya ken Claire, while James may have reservations about the Dunsany’s, this is a good opportunity for him, he is overseeing the construction of one of the biggest equestrian centres in England, probably in Europe.” he smiled, flashing teeth and landing his elbows firmly back on the table.  “His name will carry with it.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink. 

 “With all due respect Dougal,” I said smiling sweetly, “Jamie doesn’t want his name associated with the Dunsany’s on account of how they recruit people, I doubt having his name attached to their equestrian centre will appeal to him much.”

 His eyes widened, and he leaned back in his chair slightly, “yer feisty wee thing or ye no?”

 “If you mean, I don’t tolerate bullshit, then yes that is correct.”

 Ian choked into his wine glass stifling a laugh and Jenny patted my hand proudly. “That ye don’t Claire” she agreed.

 Dougal’s widened eyes eventually fell back to his dinner plate, but he was not to be deterred. I had struck a sore point, and he would not relent in whatever message he seemed determined to deliver.

 His glance fell on Ellen and Brian as if trying to reason with them over my propensity to bite.

 “Aye, I am sure it wasna suitable to have Jamie move away so soon after ye moved here” his sweet smile made my stomach heave.

  “Claire and Jamie had no wish to live separately, Dougal, so let’s not pretend it was a choice, aye?” Brian replied gruffly, while Ellen just glared disbelievingly at her brother. The tension building over the dinner table was tangible, and I longed to rise from my seat and throw the entire uneaten contents of my dinner plate onto Dougal’s lap and leave the room.

 Dougal smiled sympathetically at Brian, “I said to Jamie that they’re two independent people, dinna need to be living in each other pockets, do they now?” his gaze returned to meet my eye, and I pressed my hand into the side of my chair to stop the fury building up in my stomach. Suddenly grateful that Willie was upstairs asleep in Brian and Ellen’s bed.

 I was no longer content to listen to this tripe and didn’t want Jamie’s parents feeling the need to defend me.

 “You seem to have a knack at colouring the truth Dougal” I popped a piece of meat into my mouth and allowed my lips to curl up mischievously as I chewed.

  “I ken the best of marriages start out with some separation Claire, why myself and my wife, Clara-“before he could continue, I sat forward placing fork down on my plate and resting my chin on my entwined hands calmly. “With all due respect Dougal-“ my tone light, mocking, “I’d rather not use your marriage as a blueprint”, the way his mouth dropped open and the stunned expression on his face, made me grow bold and I flashed him a dazzling smile.

 “From what I understand your wife lives in Spain most of the year?” a long pause as I took my time to refill my wine glass, Dougal observed me, mistakenly confident that I wouldn’t go there.

 “She has a very attentive live-in personal assistant doesn’t she?” – I strained my eyes in concentration and tapped my forefinger against my bottom lip contemplatively – “Manwell? Is that his name?”

Jenny snorted, and I threw my smug smile in her direction.

 Dougal was purple, a long finger pointed threateningly at me, “How dare ye –“

 I was unperturbed, “There must be a reason you are not needed in your wife’s house?” I asked lightly while popping a grape into my mouth from the cheeseboard in front of me. “after all I am sure”, even someone like you, must have a purpose?

 Dougal started to rise threateningly to his feet, “Do you visit much, I mean to give Manwell vacation time?”

 “Now ye listen hear ye little bitch-“

 “Ye will no speak to Claire like that at my table” Ellen’s voice interjected firmly.

  I flopped back in my chair happily, taking a long pull from my wine glass. 

 “Yer lucky I allowed ye over the threshold brother, dinna pretend you had no part to play in separating her and Jamie, so ye needn’t come here now telling her it's for the best.”

 Ellen stood and reached for the bottle of wine before pouring herself a large glass and sitting back down. She gave out an incredulous sigh, “in fact I dinna ken why yer here at all” she laughed incredulously and shook her head, “ye got Jamie to do yer bidding, what else do ye want?”

 “I only came to tell ye the lad is doing braw, he is really getting stuck in.” Dougal huffed defensively.

  I couldn’t help the drop in my heart, imagining Jamie giving any of his real attention to this project, but I mentally berated myself for already forgetting my promise.

 Brian narrowed his eyes, taking in his brother in law, “he is a gifted lad, there isna much he canna work at.”

 Dougal’s face lit up “Oh aye Lord Dunsany is delighted with him, he has the architects and engineers jumping in hoops at his whim, Miss Geneva thinks he will shave a million off the original estimate for the project, with some shrewd changes.”

 Now my heart was beating outside of my chest; naively as it sounded, I didn’t realise Geneva Dunsany had any role in the designing or building of the equestrian centre.

 The question was bubbling out of my mouth before I could stop it. “What role does Geneva have with the project?” I aimed for nonchalance, but I wasn’t sure I delivered as Dougal crooked one bushy grey eyebrow at me, his turn for revenge evident with the self-satisfied smirk spread across his face.

 “She is the financial controller” he replied evenly.  Straining to keep the gleeful tone from his voice he continued “Jamie has to keep her sweet to draw down the necessary funds for the project and to align his budget.”

 Brian leaned across the table about to say something, but I was determined not to show defeat. “Gosh I am surprised, I didn’t think she had a head for figures never mind the ability to control a multi-million-pound budget”.

 Dougal’s expression was impassive, but his eyes were practically dancing in mirth when he composed himself enough to answer me.

 “Jamie seems to think he can save her money and that speaks Geneva’s language, quite the bonnie team the two of them last I saw” the corners of his mouth quirked upward, a hint of victory in his smile.

 I knew that I could keep up this game and had many responses that would wipe the smile of Dougal’s face, but I had this niggling feeling that Dougal had information that would hurt me deeply if I continued and I didn’t think I could withstand it.  I dropped my gaze to my plate, not to avoid Dougal so much but to the sympathetic stares from the rest of the Frasers.

 ________________

  Much later that evening Jenny and Ian had managed to unwind me with too much wine, curled up in armchairs around a fire in the study. We chatted and teased and avoided all talk of what Dougal had said at dinner. I knew they were trying not to give it credence and I was trying not to let my insecurity show. I mostly was succeeding, and the wine was certainly a good anaesthetic, but now and again Dougal’s depiction of Jamie working closely with Geneva gave me angry hot flushes which I was, for the most part, disguising well.

 As midnight came and went and our chat quietened, Jenny who had been watching me intently narrowed her eyes . 

  “Claire” she slurred slightly, “I presume ye are not heeding anything that man says?”

 I gave a noncommittal smile, “I’m fine Jenny honestly, I – “

 She looked to Ian for support “Tell her Ian”.

 “Jenny – laughter lacing my tone to hide my embarrassment – “ will you stop, I am a big girl, and Jamie is – “

 “Dinna start pretending that yer fine with what he said either? She waved her hand around sloppily. “I’m not daft Claire.”

 Ian crooked one eye at me, “Claire, ya ken Jamie hates each and every one of them, there is a fox in him, if he is playing nice it is cunningly so.”

 I took another long pull on my wine glass and eyed them both sceptically and sighed.

 “I feel bad for even mistrusting him, it’s just Dougal gets under my skin with his smugness –“  my tone growing angrier the very mention of him, “he came here to wind me up.”

 “Aye,” Jenny said knowingly and “ye are falling for it.”

 “Hmm, I think you’re right, and I am being silly, let’s forget it ok?” I made to stand, but my legs wobbled briefly before I fell back down with a thud.

 “We will have one more dram Claire, and then Ian and I will walk ye back to the cottage, Mam has Willie so ye can have a nice lie in tomorrow.”

 My head bobbed agreeably, and I allowed the alcohols foggy haze to cloud my decision making, “Christ I miss Jamie to talk sense to ye now.” Ian chuckled.

Jenny was rooting in my purse beside her place at the fire.

  “I'm gonna call Jamie and tell him what Dougal is at, he told me to keep him informed” she pulled my phone from my bag with a tug and flopped back on the armchair, eyes squinting, dangerously near to closing to examine the screen on my phone.

Both mine and Ian’s mouths fell open “Jenny its almost 2 o clock in the morning, you are not ringing Jamie!” I said firmly. My head was light from wine and the idea of Jenny telling Jamie I was jealous of Geneva Dunsany.

 “Aye Jen, C’mon” Ian tried to reach to take the phone from her, but she snapped her hand back. Holding the phone above her head. “he is my brother, Ian and he told me to watch over Claire.” Ian sighed “Jen he told us all to watch over Claire, if she isna sick or deid, I don’t think ye should ring him in the middle of the night though.”

 Jenny let out an impatient puff of breath “tsk” she scolded. “Jamie willna think she is deid!”

I managed to stand on wobbly feet and grab the phone from Jenny’s hand while she was distracted. “Agh, I said triumphantly, “got it”. My smile quickly faded when I noticed Jenny had already hit the call button to dial Jamie, I was desperately trying to hit cancel when I heard a high feminine giggle coming from the receiver. Jenny and Ian’s faces watched on in dismay as I put the earpiece to my ear and stupidly said “Jamie?”

Silence on the other end and a familiar British accent answered clearly “sorry James can’t come to the phone just now” – another stifled giggle “he is busy”, and the phone went dead.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Memory, Part Two

Notes from Mod Kate:

This is a continuation of @lindseyylu17’s request for: 

Jamie and Jenny move Murtaugh (or maybe Brian or Ellen) into a nursing home. They struggle with the decision. Claire is a nurse at the home.

The content is consistent with the prompt.

Catch up:

Part One

The scones were still warm from the oven.  The heat radiated out through the paper box as Jamie carried them into the nursing home.  Sunset Meadows.  The name of the place felt like profanity in his head and he wondered how his family had gotten to this point. 

But he knew as soon as the thought flicked over his mind precisely how had it come to pass that his Da was in Sunset Meadows. 

The search that Tuesday afternoon had been frantic.

Jamie left directly from work with a mumbled half-truth to his assistant about Jenny needing something. Everyone knew where he was going anyway and he flew up the A90.   From the city to Lallybroch in record time. His tires sent up a storm of gray dust as he skid to a stop on the gravel driveway. 

“How the fuck can ye lose him, Janet?” he snapped before even one foot out was out the door of his car.  He shook his hand – his knuckles had gone white from gripping the steering wheel and were tingling as blood rushed back into the skin.

Jenny was screaming at Ian into her cell phone to “get home god dammit, it’s Da.”  

“You try living here like this, James!” Jenny spat back, hands in her hair and the tears starting again.  Jamie was to her in two long steps, his car door half open and forgotten. “Ye look away for thirty seconds. Jamie… I–” 

Immediately, Jamie felt a rush of empathy overcome his frustration, his anger, his fear.  Nodding and sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his sister into his chest.  She struggled for one moment before giving into the embrace for a second moment.  She pulled away in the third moment.  

“Us brawlin’ is no’ goin’ to help us find Da.”  Jamie wiped a hand over his face, eyes darting around the lawn.  The sun was still high – summer, good. “Where have ye looked?”

The look in her eyes amped up again, the momentary calm of his embrace dissolving into nothingness.

“Everywhere,” she hissed.  When she wrapped her arms around herself, Jamie noted that she looked ill standing like that – too thin, too pale, rough and undone, exhausted.  “I have looked… fuckin’… everywhere.”

They separated, canvasing different directions in the search for their father.

Jamie came across their father after only eight minutes of looking (an entire eternity of sweaty palms, heavy breathing, and building of catastrophic hypotheticals). ‘Everywhere’ apparently did not include the road twisting around the eastern perimeter of the estate.   

Brian Fraser was crouched alongside the road, head in his hands. He approached cautiously, not wanting to frighten him. Jamie knew that he could handily outrun, outmaneuver, and outwit his father, but did not have confidence in his ability to do so without his father inadvertently hurting himself – a twisted ankle, a bruised wrist, a skinned knee.

“Da?” he called quietly, hands picking at the lint in the back pockets of his jeans. “What’re ye doin’ out here?”

Brian looked up, his face blank at first and then crunching into a pinched scowl. “Where in the hell is yer mam, lad? I’ve been searchin’ for her for hours.”

Jamie felt his gut drop – he was going to have to explain again that Ellen Fraser had been in the ground for two decades.  

“And how did ye get home from school? The bus has no’ been by. If ye skipped again, there’ll be hell to pay…”

Jamie lowered himself to the ground next to his father, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He had fought with Jenny at length about whether they should tell their father about their mother’s passing when he asked about her. Jenny preferred to fill the silence with what she called a “fib” – “mam’ll be by soon, da; dinna fash.” And their father would fall silent, placated by her response.  

Jamie did not have a hard time recognizing why Jenny did it. The allure was in the simplicity of it. The apparent humanity of sparing their father grief, confusion. The avoidance of an unpredictable response.

Jamie would have been lying to say that he was not sometimes tempted to follow Jenny’s example – to fabricate a business trip, an errand, their mother’s plan to return really soon.  

But Jamie refused to lie.  Instead he would carefully unwrap the truth for his da.

The conversation broke Jamie’s heart the first ten times he had to have it. He thought of his mother – her hair the deepest red in a sunset, her hands covered in almost-translucent skin and threaded with green veins, her laugh heavy and hearty and completely mismatched to a wispy voice.

He knew that the explanation of his mother’s absence was merely a statement shouted into the void.  Every word would fall away from his father’s memory in short order.  Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to lie about his mother. 

Jamie readied himself for an explosion of emotion and said, “Da, I’m twenty-nine years old.  Mam is dead.”

After a moment, Brian turned to Jamie with a fury in his eyes, his voice dripping with disdain.  “I ken yer mam’s dead, James. Ye dinna need to bring it up.”

Jamie pursed his lips and exhaled, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at his hands.  Telling him always ended differently. Sometimes a wailing that could raise the dead.  Other times a detached acceptance with a sighed “oh” in the same tone he would use to order food in a restaurant. Yet others a failure to register, the never-ending questions about the funeral, the how and the why, which would lead to Willie and the dam breaking.

“Okay,” Jamie eventually sighed, resigned, bowing his head. 

“Please, help me,” Brian deadpanned.  Jamie looked up – his father had tears in his eyes.  Though his words were firm, his chin was quivering.  “Why won’t you help me?”

Jamie rested his hand on his father’s thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “I will help ye, da.”

And that was how they ended up in this place – Sunset Meadows.

Their visit rolled along easily. The weather.  The garden out behind the facility. The Six Nations rugby match between Scotland and Italy later in the afternoon.  His father’s plan to watch it with “some friends.”

And then a sputter and a cough, chunks of the scone –

“Fuck, da, are ye alr–” 

a gasp, Brian’s fist meeting the table –

a river: juice, coffee, melting together and rolling

Chunks of the scone –

a muttered “fuck” from Jamie –

Brian slapping the table –

“Da” and another “fuck” as Jamie exploded off of his seat towards his father –

Brian’s eyes watering, chest heaving –

a body slipping between them, crouching.

Time stopped.

The Nurse.  Not Nurse Claire. Just Claire.  Claire Randall.

Her voice was low and her hands were steady, her tone even and soothing.  After a few moments, Brian quit coughing.  The only evidence of the happening of it was the spray of spittle and crumbs on her scrub top, the slight cast of pink of Brian’s cheeks, the cold sweat pricking up along Jamie’s hairline.  

“What a mess, James,” Brian eventually said, looking down at the table and giving a little laugh. Jamie’s heart was still rattling, attempting to burst free through his sternum.  

Swallowing.  Was his da’s ability to swallow already going? That was a sign he was advancing. He needed more time – Jamie did, his father did. They needed to extract every exquisite memory out of his father’s faltering before he was no longer one with that mind.  And if he was having trouble swallowing, their time together was fleeting and–

Brian shrugged out from under Claire’s hand and said, “Weel, I no’ want to keep ye, Jamie.  That match’s starting soon and ye pair of kids should be out livin’ yer lives. Take yer lass out for a dram.”

Jamie nodded despite himself (the match wasn’t for another three hours; pair of kids?; his lass?) and moved to hug his father.  It was physical affection that they had rarely shown one another before the diagnosis, but they had added after the diagnosis whenever they parted.  It had been awkward at first: distance between chests and hips purposeful, slapping hands on shoulders, grunts of acknowledgment. And now Jamie hugged him fully, without protestation from his father, and whispered “see ye soon, da.”

“Beannachd leat, a charaid,” Brian said into his son’s neck.  Jamie stiffened almost imperceptibly.  And though she was not familiar with Jamie’s body, Claire could see the shift in his posture, the lines of his shoulders hardening and straightening.

“Bye, Da,” Jamie responded, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  

He watched as his father shuffled through the day room and back down the hall to his new room.  For a moment Jamie allowed a bitterness to crest over him.  They had moved him into this nursing home approximately eighteen hours earlier and Brian remembered where his room was.  He did not recall much of the twenty-nine years he had with his son.

Sensing the break in him, Claire rounded the table and began to sweep crumbs from the scones into her palm. “Here, let me help you.  I’m betting you probably want to get home.”

Grateful, Jamie mustered the best semblance of a smile he could and tossed a paper towel over the spilled coffee and juice.  “Thank you. I ken ye’re no’ custodial staff and this is below yer pay grade.”

Returning a half-smile, Claire just shrugged. “I don’t think about the things that happen here in terms of ‘pay grade,’ but you are very welcome.”

Once the table was wiped clean, Claire sat and crossed her legs, taking a scone from the box. “What does it mean?”

“What’s that now?” Jamie had no idea why, but he sat across from her at the table, crossing his legs at the ankle and reached for his own scone.

“What your father said to you… I am not even going to try to say it.”

“Oh.”  Jamie’s face fell slightly.  “Beannachd leat, a charaid.  It means ‘thank you, friend.’”  

He gave her a meaningful look.  Friend.  Not son.

“Oh.”  Claire’s response was an echo reverberating between them and mingling with their breath until she spoke again- trying to lighten the mood. “I really should learn some Gaelic, working here.”

“How did ye end up working here, anyway?”

She shrugged, her face betraying that the answer was more than ‘it’s just a job.’  When she did not respond, Jamie felt his stomach drop.

“Sorry, I dinna ken what I’m thinking.  I’m no’ trying to pry–”

“No, it’s–” 

“and ye have boundaries–”

“Jamie–” (a heart-stopping rendering of his name)

“ye need to maintain.” She quit trying to break in and he finished, saying, “I dinna want to ask ye to cross those boundaries.”

“The reason that I work here isn’t a boundary.  It’s just a long story for another day.”

Jamie accepted her response (what other choice did he have?). He spun his cell phone on the table under his pointer finger, looking for a way to prolong the conversation.  He had no idea why, but something about her put him at ease about this place and the fact that his father was living in it.

They talked about things.

How to ease Brian’s transition. 

The panic of visiting, not knowing Brian’s level of cognition and mood. 

The food.  

Claire carefully admitted, with all respect due her employer, that the buffet-style food line left a lot to be desired and that she carried packets of salt in her handbag. Jamie confessed over Claire’s bark of laughter that he had actually liked the chicken cordon bleu he had last time he visited.  

Claire told him about his father’s first night. (Watching Survivor together, playing a round of cards that his father had managed to follow and won handily, graham crackers and milk in plastic wine glasses, brushing teeth, easy to bed.) 

When the pager on Claire’s belt buzzed, she furrowed her brow, a chunk of curly brown hair falling over one eye as she looked down.  She blew it out of her face.  It lifted under her breath and immediately fell again.  

She typed a furious message into her phone, wavy locks taking residence over her eyes.  When she looked up, she offered him a half-smile of apology. “Sorry. I need to cut this short. Your dad is lucky to have you. Not everyone here has that luxury. Thanks for the scone.”

She picked up the remainder of her scone and walked away before he could say that his dad was lucky to have her, too.

[andromytta]

All Your Life

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 23 | andromytta vs. @ladylilithprime

Prompt: Apple Pie

Ship: Claire Novak/Kevin Tran

Word Count: 2441

Tags/Warnings: 

Nerd Claire

Punk Kevin

Family Drama

Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags

SPN Rare Ships Creation Challenge

Thanksgiving Dinner

Apple Pie

Demisexual Claire Novak

Summary:  Claire finally brings Kevin home for family dinner. But it can't just be any family dinner, no, it has to be Thanksgiving dinner. With her ENTIRE FAMILY present. Oh, and her dads still hate him....

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651645  (Part 3 of the Never Let You Go series)

Kevin lounged on Krissy’s bed watching Claire pack for her Thanksgiving trip home.  He had offered to help her multiple times, and each time she responded with “You’ll just do it wrong.”  So, he resigned himself to thumbing through magazines on her roommate’s unmade bed, skimming the articles and sex tips and sniffing every perfume ad.  It was Wednesday, and Claire had just finished her last class before Fall Break.

“You’ll be back here on Monday, right?” he asked.

“Mmhmm…”

“And your folks live less than an hour away, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then why do you need so many bags?”  Kevin asked with a chuckle. So far, Claire had three bags packed and was working on her fourth.

“Well, this one has all my books,” she said as she pointed to the oversized wheeled backpack.  “This one has my computer and my camera equipment.”  That one was a medium sized hard case with wheels, plastered with stickers.  “These other two are for my clothes and, you know, girlie products.”

“Wait, so you’re on vacation and you’re still going to be doing homework?”

“Well, duh.”

“Ok, ok,” Kevin said with a chuckle.  “You do you. But you know,” Kevin said brightly, “try to relax a little.”

“Oh yeah, like that’s even possible.”  Claire said, rolling her eyes. “What about you?  Can you relax? Are you even ready to meet my family tomorrow?  I mean, like, my whole family?”

“Yeah, Babe.  I’m actually fine.  I mean, I already know your grandmother and your aunts, and they love me.  So what do I have to worry about?”

Claire rolled her eyes again.  “Oh, I don’t know. Only that my dads basically hate you already, and if Jack doesn’t like you, well, then all bets are off.  I mean, if my twin can’t stand you , then there’s not anything I can do about it.  And then there’s Alex. She hates everyone.” Claire started pacing and her voice got faster and higher pitched the more she talked.

Kevin grabbed her forearms and stopped her pacing in the middle of the room.  “Shhh. Chill out. It will be ok. Your siblings will love me. I mean, I am pretty awesome.  And I have no doubt Ellen will make sure your dads remain civil during Thanksgiving dinner.”

Claire actually laughed at that.  “That’s true. My gramma can be pretty scary when she wants to be.”

About an hour later, Kevin was dropping Claire off in front of her parents’ house.  “You and Krissy and Joss will be here on time, tomorrow, right? Don’t be late.”

“I know, I know.  High noon. Sharp.”  Kevin said with fond exasperation.  They had been over this dozens of times already. “Our watches are synchronized and I have my super secret decoder ring.”

“And bring your guitar,” Claire continued. Kevin wasn’t sure if she heard his snark in the midst of her panicking. “Jack will want to play.  Dad won’t let him touch his ever since he got jelly on it…” she trailed off, though still mumbling to herself as she pulled her luggage out of the backseat.

“Yes, Claire, I know.  Now go, see your family.  I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kevin kissed her on the cheek before leaving her, and her bags, in the driveway.  Hey, he offered to help, but she’d steadfastly refused.

Claire wrestled her bags to the front door and was just trying to dig her key out of her purse when the door flung open.  Jack was standing there with a huge smile on his face.

“Claire!  You’re home!”  He engulfed her in a big hug, grabbed her bags, and ushered her inside.  “Alex! Dads! Claire is home!”  He didn’t really need to shout, because they were all gathered in the living room already.

Alex looked up from where she was lounging on the couch.  “Hi.” She returned to her phone after that affectionate greeting.

“You’ve been out of class for three hours.  What took you so long?” Castiel asked. “I hope you brought your midterm project with you.”

“Geez, Cas.  You’re on vacation.  Can’t you give ‘Professor Novak’ the day off?” Dean said, smoothing his hand down his husband’s arm and grabbing his elbow, giving him a gentle shake before greeting Claire with a hug.  “Welcome home, Kiddo.”

“Hi, Dad.”  Claire returned the hug affectionately, their previous fighting long but forgotten.

“Ok, now go upstairs and get cleaned up.  We have pies to make.”

“Awesome.  Is Gramma coming over tonight?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered.  “She’s coming over tonight to help with the cooking.  Cas is picking up Sam and Jess and Gabe and Kali at the airport tonight, so Jess and Gabe will also be here to help.  Jess said she’sreally excited to learn Mom’s stuffing recipe.  Then Grampa, Jo and Charlie will be here tomorrow.  I’m assuming your new ‘friend’ will be here then?”

Claire nodded, hearing the finger quotes in her dad’s voice.

“And I assume your therapist is coming too?”

Claire rolled her eyes.  “Da-ad. Krissy is not my therapist.  But yes, she’s coming and bringing her girlfriend too, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

A couple of hours later, Claire was pressing pie crust into her fifth pie tin, covered in flour up to her elbows, when the door opened and Ellen Harvelle-Singer walked in.  “Gramma!” Claire exclaimed, running to give the woman a big, flour coated hug.

“Hey, baby,” Ellen said, smoothing Claire’s wild blond hair.

Dean came out of the kitchen just behind his daughter.  “Hey Mom,” he said, wrapping both women in a hug.

Ellen looked at Claire.  “Well, didja tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Dean asked.

“Guess not.” Ellen said.  Changing the subject, she asked, “So where’s my dreamy son-in-law and my other two grandbabies?”

“Cas and Jack went to pick up the rest of the family at the airport, and Alex is up in her room.  She cut herself peeling apples for Claire, and wouldn’t let me help her. She insisted on waiting until you got here.  Apparently, you fix cuts better than me,” Dean pouted at his mother.

“Well, then, let me go take care of that,” Ellen said before turning pointedly to Claire.

“While I’m gone, you tell him, got it?” No one defied the matriarch of the family for very long.  

“Yes, ma’am,” Claire gulped, and she sheepishly made her way back to the kitchen and forced herself to concentrate extra hard on her pie crust.  Dean just stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest.  

“Well?” he said with a lifted eyebrow.

Never looking up from her pie crust, she said in a single rushed breath, “So, you know that band that played at the Roadhouse, the punk band that did a cover of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ that you hated, and you really don’t like how Gramma hired him as the music manager there, even though he’s really good and the bar’s profits are up, but you just generally really hate that guy for no actual reason?”

Dean stared at his kid for a long moment before simply barking, “Yeah.”

Claire finally looked up from her pie, her blue eyes locking with Dean’s green.  “Well, that’s Kevin. My Kevin.”

“Wha-What?” Dean spluttered.  “But-but you said he was in band not A band.”

“No, I said he was in a band.  And I was ready to bring him home for dinner, until Aunt Jo told me what you said!”  Claire stashed her last pie crust in the freezer, slamming the door to emphasize her point.

Dean dropped heavily into a chair at the kitchen table.  Now, Claire’s actions made sense. They’d been fighting for months over this very issue.  And it was all his fault. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling chagrined.  “So, that’s why you haven’t been home for family dinner?”

“Well…..yeah,” Claire said as she started removing the peeled apples from the cinnamon and ginger infused water they were resting in.  That was her secret, why she made her family’s signature apple pie better than Dean, and even better than Ellen. She began chopping as she was talking.  “I mean, it’s not exactly encouraging to bring your boyfriend home to meet the parents, when you already know the parents hate him.”

“Oh, come on, Claire!  You know that’s not what I meant.  Just because I hate the way he performed, doesn’t mean I hate him.  I don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the poster boy for easy going paternal figures, particularly if it comes to your beloved Led Zeppelin.  Who I still think are overrated anyway.” Claire said sassily as she continued to chop.

“Like you’re any different.  Just let someone butcher a Beatles’ song,” Dean retorted lamely. He had a note of pride in his voice he couldn’t conceal.

Claire shrugged, a small smile tugging at her mouth  “Well, I am your daughter.”

Dean got up from the kitchen table and moved to one of the bar stools in front of the counter where Claire was chopping.  “So, tell me about him. Clearly there must be more to him than the butchering of perfectly good classic rock.”

Claire’s soft smile widened just slightly.  “Well, his rendition of ‘Blackbird’ is the best I’ve ever heard.”

Dean looked mildly surprised.  “That’s saying a lot.”

“Dad, he’s enormously talented.  Just because you’re too old to get his style of music doesn’t make it bad.”

“Your face is old.”

Claire raised an eyebrow at him.  “Nice comeback, there, Pops.  If my face is old, what does that make your face?”

“Shut up,” Dean retorted with a smile of his own.  “So, go on, tell me more.”

“You literally just told me to shut up.”

“You know what I mean.”

Claire stuck her tongue out at him, but continued talking.  “Kevin is really great. He plays six instruments.” Dean made a “huh” face at that.  “He has a degree in music theory from Princeton.  Did you know that because of his help, the Roadhouse has become one of the top college bars in the city?”

“Please, your grams and Jo could have done that.”

“No, Dad.  Kevin is the one who hooked them up with the up and coming bands in the area.  There’s more to music than just cover bands for mullet rock, you know.”

“Hey, I like those bands. And they don’t all have mullets.”

“Yes, but you’re not a twenty something college student with miles of disposable income,” Claire said cheekily.  “Your bands still play there; just other bands play there too. Gramma put him in charge of this summer’s Battle of the Bands.  It will be epic.”

“You know, I don’t know how I feel about my kid sister meeting your boyfriend before me.”

“Hey, it’s not like that was planned.  They didn’t even know we were dating when they hired him.  It was only after he and Jo got to talking and that’s how she found out.  Then she called me and told me what you said about him.” Claire dropped her eyes back to the cutting board.  She’d been making this pie for so many years that the chopping came naturally to her and she hardly had to watch what she was doing, but she found she couldn’t look into her dad’s eyes anymore.

Dean reached across the count and stilled her hands.  “Hey, hey, Claire-bear, I’m sorry I said that. Well, I’m sorry I said it like that.  If I had known he was important to you…well, I was drunk so I probably still would have said it.”

“Wow, Dad, you suck at apologizing.” Claire smiled weakly.

“Well, I’m sorry, but your boyfriend’s music does suck.” She glared at him.  “To me,” he added. “But I won’t let that affect my judgement of him as a person.  But if he turns out to be an asshole and he hurts you, I’ll just beat him up extra hard.”

“He’s got a black belt in three martial arts, Dad, I doubt you could take him.”

Dean took her hands and looked her in the eye.  “Seriously, though, Claire, what kind of guy is he?  He’s not pressuring you into anything, right?” That was a problem in her last relationship.  Her ex-girlfriend’s addictive personality lead to her wanting to do things that Claire was uncomfortable with.

“Dad, he’s a really, really great guy.  He knows and respects my limits, sometimes even better than I do.”  Claire blushed and ducked her head down. “He, well, um, Kevin, he might be the one, Dad.” Dean’s eyes lit up with happiness.  But before he could say anything, Claire added, “But don’t you dare start planning a wedding.  We are nowhere near that yet!” His face fell comically fast.

Just then, Ellen and Alex emerged from upstairs.  “Well, I got her all patched up, and she’s graciously decided to socialize with the rest of her family,” Ellen said as they came into the kitchen.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I decided so much as she’s making me,” Alex grumped.  Ellen smacked the back of her head. “Ow!”

“Hey, it’s not like we’re asking you help with cooking in any way.  Just keep us company. It’s not like you see me or your sister every day,” Ellen scolded her.

“Yeah, please don’t help us cook,” Claire teased as she tossed her apples into the skillet.  She then turned to her grandmother. “Before you ask, yes, I told him.”

Ellen turned to Dean, “And you’ll be on your best behavior and give this boy a chance, right, son?”

“Yeah, Mom.  He sounds like a good kid,” Dean said.

“Hey, he really is a good kid.  Even your pop likes him, despite his weird hair.”  Ellen said.

“Well, if Dad likes him, then I guess he must be ok.”  Dean agreed. Bobby Singer pretty much hated everyone who wasn’t family, and sometimes he didn’t like them much either.

They didn’t have a chance to discuss it further, because just then the front door swung open and the rest of the family came piling in.  Gabriel and Jessica were already arguing over who cooked what better, Cas and Kali were having a heated discussion about politics, and Sam was telling Jack something no one but them could hear, Jack hanging on his favorite uncle’s every word.

The Winchester-Novak-Harvelle-Singer Thanksgiving was certainly going to be interesting this year.  But there was at least one thing Claire could definitely count on: Every single one of her apple pies would be devoured before the end of the day.  The rest, as usual, would be a toss-up with her large and unpredictable family.

Poor Kevin.

[whitebread-brownbread]

Amata Bene - ii of iii [Alfie Solomons]

Word Meaning: Well Loved

Summary: Just a lot of feelings about Alfie Solomons with children, the penultimate part.

Words: 3,909

Part i Part ii Part iii

Blips of Information About This Part:

Nadezhda - Pronounced ‘Na-deszh-da’ - AKA: Nadia

Born November 1922

Pregnant by the Passover Seder which is 23/04/1922 Sat, 15th of Nisan, 5681 (I actually had to search for that information xD)

Nadezhda was born not four years after Alfie returned broken and quick to anger. He had changed after his relationship with Avi had become stronger, you’d worried that he actually hadn’t wanted to be a father - but he told you that wasn’t the case. He was mad at his loss of humanity, mad at the fact that he didn’t get to see you through your pregnancy or Avi’s firsts, mad that he woke up more often than not in a cold sweat, and most of all mad that he had woken up with a hand wrapped around your throat more than once the first year after he returned.

He had a beard now, and it scratched more often than it tickled when rough kisses were pressed to various areas of your body, often hurried, just like everything Alfie did nowadays.

When you were young it seemed like you had all the time in the world, teenagers coming into their own, discovering things about their sexuality in languid touch and taste. Now, most touches were harsh and quick, like Alfie was on a schedule.

His eyes didn’t glow in the same way they would when you revealed your body to him before the war, so now any copulation happened in his office after hours and was done with your skirts pushed up past your hips. The one thing that had never changed since his return was the fact that he always made sure you reached the crest of your pleasure before he did.

He once told you he liked to watch the way your back bent so much so that he first thought it was going to snap during the time your eyes fluttered with bliss, and you dug your nails into the flesh of his skin.

He wasn’t vocal anymore. You had noticed small ticks that he never used to have, he stroked his beard a lot, twirled his rings, hardly spoke to you about business, tapped his cane on the floor in an annoying beat and had become a very light sleeper.

It was hard, so to speak, to be around someone after not seeing them for four years, but you had assumed that the four that had passed since Alfie’s return would have fixed things. They didn’t.

You heard from some women you worked with as a seamstress whose husbands worked at the bakery that Alfie had gotten what they called a ‘strange’ visitor.

Who this person was you had asked, but all they could tell you was what their husbands wanted to tell them, he was ‘just a businessman from Birmingham’. You knew that Alfie had sent a telegram the previous week to someone in Birmingham, and now were conscious that this man was clearly here to stake some sort of claim on the city.

Upon getting off of work, you immediately headed to the bakery, intent on paying Alfie some of your two quid into the situation.

“Well, that’s just fuckin’ great isn’t it, Alfie? Good fucking job! You’ve brought a bunch of gang members down here and we’re all going to have a price on our heads from Sabini! Do you ever think about someone other than yourself?”

When he stayed silent you readied yourself for another round.

“We have a child. One who still isn’t old enough to remember how to tie his shoes. I swear to all things that are holy if anyone gets hurt from this, and I mean anyone in Camden Town that’s Jewish, I am taking Avi and leaving somewhere you’ll never find us.”

That got him to look up.

“So because I want to provide for my family, you’re going to take that family and fuckin’ leave?”

“If you do what I think you’re going to and I so much as see Italian’s on the street that aren’t in this bakery for business, I’m leaving.”

“Why?” The way Alfie was so calm made your blood boil beneath your skin.

“Because it’s not safe! This war between you and Sabini has lasted half a year. Life was never this way before the war! I never had to look over my shoulder every time I turned a corner. We were safe. Now we aren’t. Someone is going to end up dead, Alfie!”

You knew everyone working in the bakery could see you and Alfie screaming at each other, he still hadn’t gotten blinds on those glass windows, no matter how much you pressed him to.

“Would you quiet down? I don’t need everyone in this bloody place to know our business.”

Enraged at your husband and yourself for the lack of regard you usually possessed for private moments, you got up and exited the room, ignoring Alfie’s shouting behind you.

“I don’t wan’ you to leave.” He grasped your chin and you averted your eyes to the cornice in the room.

“Tough. Tommy Shelby puts a price on your head and then I’m out of here before you have time to actually tell me about it.”

“I don’t wan’ you to leave.” He repeated. You stared at each other nose to almost-nose.

You were at each other then. A baser urge had taken over the pair of you.

This wouldn’t just be sex. This was primal, hateful lust, catalysed by the screaming match you’d both had the day before.

You hadn’t even had time to change out of your undergarments before Alfie had come tearing into the room, kissing you with such ferocity you were sure your mouth would be bruised, spending enough time to spread you across the bed on your hands and knees and pull your underwear to the side.

You didn’t look each other in the eye, instead, you let hips do the talking and your hands grasped the headboard instead of their usual position - one hand wrapped around Alfie’s wrist on your hip, dictating his movements with subtle squeezes, and the other wrapped around the soiled sheets.

His hips pushed you past your peak, and you lost your hold on the headboard, pushing your face into the pillows and letting silent grunts bleed into the feathers.

You had been successfully ignoring your hardly-ever-silent husband for almost BLAH, only ever speaking to him when required. Everything else was answered with hand and facial gestures or non-committal sounds.

“You aren’t even going to look at me now?”

“I’m reading.”

“Could you put the fuckin’ book down for a minute?”

You sighed and did as he asked.

“What?”

“Now, I don’t want you to get mad-”

“You always say that and what do I get every time? Mad.” You interrupted.

“You’re going to need to look at this objectively and logically.”

“Fine.”

“I had a meeting with Darby Sabini.”

“Fuck me,” you got up and began to pace, making your way around the room before turning back to Alfie.

“You came home with all your body parts then, I assume it went well?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“What did he want then?” He laced his fingers together over the top of his cane and shook his hair out, looking up at you with tired eyes.

“I’m getting to that. He wants to join forces against the Peaky Blinders.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose where tension was beginning to build.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I would like your input.”

“You want my input now?” You laughed, “you never want my input anymore!”

“I’m at a crossroads, darlin’, and I need you to tell me what to do.”

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, Alf. But, Sabini lives in London, Tommy Shelby doesn’t. And Tommy Shelby only wanted to expand his business, correct? No plans on moving his hoard down here?”

“All depends on Sabini and I. But I know he wants to expand his territory, he already took over The Eden Club without my knowledge.”

“You and Sabini have had an on-again-off-again relationship since school, it’s quite laughable, really. However, you’ve dealt with Sabini before, not Tommy Shelby, you don’t know what he’s capable of.” It was common knowledge amongst gangs that others were continuously trying to ‘one-up’ each other, and Tommy Shelby seemed predisposed to overtaking everyone in such a short amount of time.

From what you understood the Peaky Blinders were just illegal bookmakers, nothing special, but then they crawled down the canal and as Alfie had said; ‘spread like the fucking clap’. You weren’t going to disagree there.

“Hm.”

“You’ve already made up your mind then? Made an agreement?”

“Yep.”

“So you only told me because you wanted me to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Great. When is this happening?”

“During the Seder.”

“Well,” you bit out, “I hope you’re going to the synagogue soon after.”

Things had gotten better since Alfie decided to side with Darby Sabini. Although, knowing Alfie and his penchant for explosiveness and quick-tongued wit, the new truce they had met would probably crumble.

You were certain that the Peaky Blinders would one day come back and enact their revenge, but Alfie had assured you that once the Epsom Derby happened and Sabini allowed Alfie’s rum into his clubs, he would set things right with them.

You had all of one friend and often felt alienated from the rest of the women around Camden Town because of who you were married to. Granted, your friend too felt alienated because she was married to Ollie, but she had a large family to rely on, whilst you had only Alfie and Avi.

It shocked you when out of the blue Ellen began to ask you when you and Alfie had planned to have more children.

“I can’t imagine bringing a child into this current mess of a world.”

“Well, our world in Camden Town is very small, but would another child be so bad?”

“I don’t believe so, but not at this juncture. Things between Alfie and I aren’t faring very well, I’m afraid.”

“Come with me, I’ve got to show you something,” Ellen exclaimed and trotted off towards her bedroom.

When you entered her bedroom you discovered her half under her bed, fidgeting around with something that made a lot of scraping noises.

“You got bricks under there or something?” You laughed at her frazzled appearance. What she had in her hand turned your expression morose.

“Are you having a fuckin’ laugh?”

“Do you think I would joke about this?” She held out a small pair of mittens and booties which you knew for a fact she had pulled from the baby memento box she kept from her and Ollie’s first.

“No, I-I can’t be. We haven’t been trying. Look, I know you’re a midwife and have baby on the brain all the time, but this just isn’t that time right now.”

“Are your tits sore? Gained some weight recently? Felt ill at random times during the day even though you haven’t eaten anything? Which, I know for a fact you hardly eat lunch anymore, Ollie tells me so.”

“Ollie fuckin’ tells you so? Does Alfie have half of Camden Town spying on me?”

“Probably. But please, let me examine you? I can’t in my good faith allow you to walk out this apartment without checking you.”

You relaxed your tense posture, and Ellen grinned, knowing she had won this battle. “Fine.”

You laid on the chaise lounge wearing nothing except for your undergarments and placed your hands against the slight bulge of your stomach.

“Do you mind if I examine you now?”

“No, I don’t.” Your hands itched to cover hers and stop the process, for fear of what you already knew to be true, but instead pulled your chemise up to under your breasts.

“Have you noticed any abdominal tenderness? Any light bleeding outside of your normal bleed?”

“Just my tits are sore and my stomach slightly.” You tensed as she gently palpated your abdomen.

“Ouch! Don’t squeeze them so hard!” You yelped as Ellen lifted your breast and squeezed in what you thought was a hard manner.

“I barely put my hands on them, but, I think you may have something to tell Alfie, Y/N, you’re definitely in the family way.”

Your head dropped back to the cushion beneath it, “damn.”

It was a difficult thing to approach Alfie about being pregnant when you felt as if you were just living with a border who happened to share your bed of a night. Thankfully, due to your husband’s inhuman way of sniffing out anything bothering you, he broke the silence in the best way he knew how.

“I want us to have another baby.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I didn’t get to see Avi grow up. I’d at least like to see another one through before I end up six feet under.”

“Well, I’m glad that you say that because I’m sort of already pregnant.”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’? You fuckin’ are or you fuckin’ ain’t love.”

“I fuckin’ am.”

“Jeez, you always like to hide these bloody kids from me until the last minute?”

“Got ta’ keep you on your toes. Besides, after the whole Passover Seder, I didn’t know if Mr Shelby’s brother was going to come after you and I’d need to raise a baby on me own.” You pecked him on the cheek.

“There is always the prospect of that, he is a fucking animal, you know?”

“Are you nervous about this?”

Alfie hadn’t stopped flitting around you since he found out you were pregnant, and as you got on in gestation he was beginning to bug more than you found it endearing.

“What?” He wouldn’t stop staring at you either, you could feel the tingling up the back of your neck that made you feel as if ants were crawling all over you.

His eyes quickly moved away from you when you turned to face him in the bed that you had taken over in your state.

“Are you nervous about the babe?”

“No, course not, love, why would I be?”

“You’re acting very strangely, and stranger than usual I might add.”

“You look like you’re a stuffed turkey half the time and in pain.”

“I am stuffed with your child, but thank you so much for using that analogy. But, Alfie, I’m not in pain, just uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? Do I need to have words to the baby?”

“No,” you laughed, “I’ll be fine, it’s just as the baby grows, everything is shifting to make room for it, so I am feeling quite stuffed like a turkey.”

In all of your nine-month pregnant glory, Alfie found you sobbing sporadically during the day frequently.

“What are you crying for this time?”

“I can’t pick up Avi anymore!” You sobbed. You and Avi were sitting on the back verandah, Avi was playing with his toys, none the wiser to your concerns.

“Right, love, up you get.” Alfie helped you up from the step and sat you on the bench underneath the kitchen window.

“Now, you comfortable?”

“What are you doing?” You wiped your eyes and nose with your handkerchief and tucked it back into the sleeve of your dress.

“Avi come here, bring your toys too, little man.”

“‘Kay!”

“Can you slide down a little bit for me please?”

“Alfie, I’m not in the mood for whatever it is you’re about to do.”

“Now just hold on a minute there, love, you’ll enjoy this.”

Alfie turned to Avi waiting patiently beside him and picked him up, gently setting him on your thighs. The position you were in allowed Avi to sit comfortably without your stomach in the way.

“There, you alright now?”

You grinned and nodded, and hugged Avi to you, your hand not supporting him coming up to play with his hair in the way it often made him fall asleep - much like Alfie.

“Argh,” you looked up to Alfie pulling a wooden toy from behind his back and put it aside, rubbing the sore spot.

“Are you alright, Alfie?”

“Nah love, might need a massage soon.”

“You might?” You quirked a brow at the sultry tone his voice took.

“Mm. My sciatica actin’ up real bad.”

“Oh well, in that case, it had better be a long one.” You winked, grinning into Avi’s hairline, knowing you would both make good on the promise after your son had finally gone to sleep.

In the days leading up to your due date, you found yourself sleeping earlier and longer, meaning you often missed Alfie leaving and returning from his day, only noticing he was there as your body unconsciously moulded itself toward him.

You had been cramping on and off for a week before you truly went into labour, and you ended up going into labour when Alfie still wasn’t home, even though it was midnight gone.

The onslaught of cramps that tore through your pelvic region woke you up, as well as the warm fluid that pooled beneath your thighs.

“Ow, shit, fuck, God-dammit.” You gingerly climbed out of the bed and made your way downstairs, pausing to glance inside Avi’s room that he was still sound asleep - he was.

You picked up the phone receiver from Alfie’s desk and asked the operator to connect you to Ellen, who had agreed to help you give birth to your baby.

After the rushed phone call to Ellen, you were connected to Alfie. You heard in the tone of his voice that he was worried, and you tried your best to do so, but it was hard to do when a human - no matter how small they looked when they finally came out - was trying to force itself out of a very cramped space.

The birth of Nadia was magnitudes harder than that of Avi, and rather than the low moans and grunts you had produced birthing your son, alone, you screamed and tears fled down your face as if trying to get away from the noise.

In spite of all this, you weren’t alone. This was something considered ‘women’s business’ not ‘men’s business’, but you and Alfie agreed that both of you wanted to be there. You had one hand pulling your own knee back whilst the other gripped Alfie’s, leaving nail tears (bloodied) across the top of his skin.

You gave it every grunt, push and cry until you were finally able to relax when piercing wails filled the room from the healthy baby girl.

“Here you go,” Ellen says, “one healthy baby girl Solomons.”

You refused when she tried to give the baby to you. “Alfie should hold her first.”

“You sure, Y/N?”

“Positive. You didn’t get to hold Avi when he was born so I want you to have the first hold.”

“Right … well.” You hadn’t thought love, at first sight, existed until you watched Alfie lay eyes on your daughter for the first time. He cradled her as if she was the most delicate, rare, flower, something that would cease to exist should it be clutched too hard.

Her cries turned to soft grizzles as Alfie sat next to you and you laughed tiredly as her head and mouth moved around searching out your milk.

“She’s perfect, Y/N, absolutely perfect.”

“What do you want to name her?” The baby had been shifted to your arms and greedily had her first feed, looking like she was about to fall asleep with the way her eyes were closing and opening intermittently.

“Me?”

“I heard you mutter something about naming her after your mother a while back.”

“Nadezhda?”

“She can get called Nadia for short.” You watched as Alfie brushed his knuckles against the thatch of fair hair on the baby's head, looking already just as disgruntled as Alfie could get when she was interrupted her feeding.

“Nadezhda Solomons. She’ll be the treacle tart of everyone’s eye this one unless of course, we have another girl, then they’ll both be on the same level.”

“You already planning for more children?”

“Well if they all come out this good, why the fu- why not?”

“Good,” you yawned, “you remembered to curb your tongue.”

“Alfie!” Your screech could be heard as far away as Leeds, Alfie supposed.

“What, woman? A man is trying to get some peace and quiet in his own home in which he is supposed to be treated like a king, which I really am not, I might be wanting to add.”

“Your daughter wants you to fix her foot!” Neither of you stood far away from the other, but you were both prone to yelling when certain moods struck, and the injuring of Nadia certainly warranted it.

“Dad, Nadia’s hurt her foot and she won’t let Mum touch it.”

“Really? That’s what your Mum was squawking about? I had no idea.” Avi grinned up at Alfie as he ruffled the mess of curls at the crown of his head. Through the years, Avi and Alfie’s relationship had gotten better, you would even go so far as to say better.

“She stood on a stick in the backyard.”

“What’s she doing in the backyard running around barefoot like she’s got no shoes?”

“She said she was playin’ fortune tellers with the dolls because you said that, um, Tommy? Came from a family of them.” That damn Thomas Shelby, Alfie thought, can’t do anything without that man’s stench clouding every part of his life.

“Well, I did say that, yeah, but don’t go spreadin’ that ‘round outside this house, okay?”

“Okay!” Avi walked off towards the kitchen with a pep in his step that always came when Alfie said something he found amusing.

“What’s this then, eh? Hurt your foot did you?”

“Foot.” Nadia kicked her left foot up at Alfie where she was perched on the small table kept in there for informal meals. She had stopped crying after you promised her that Alfie would fix her foot instead because he, ‘had ouchies before, he better’, and sat there quietly, inspecting the cut.

“Yes, that is your foot, Nadezhda.”

“Kiss better.” Her small toes prodded Alfie’s waistcoat and he grasped her ankle gently and moved it away from his white shirt.

“Can you say please?”

“Please?”

“Alright then, now, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He put on his glasses and balanced them on the tip of his nose, scrutinising the cut on Nadia’s foot like it was the sword of Damocles and had offended him personally - which it had.

“Aw, no.”

“What?”

“Might have to cut it off, looks worse than I thought.”

“Daddy, no!” Nadia’s eyes grew so wide Alfie was afraid they would stay that way.

“Can you say ‘yes’ in Russian for daddy please, Nadezhda?” Alfie nodded encouragingly at Nadia who sat on his lap with a plate of tiny sandwiches, munching quietly away at them.

“Da.”

“Alfie,” you smirked from the corner, “she’s three, I don’t think she’s going to be fluent in Russian anytime soon.”

“My child is very intelligent, thank you very much, she can learn Russian if she wants.”

“I’m not saying she’s not intelligent, but how about you start with something simpler?” You suggested, and grinned when Nadia nodded in agreement - which she did frequently when you and Alfie didn’t see eye to eye, she’d agree with the both of you.

“Like what?”

“Counting in her mother-tongue, not yours, would be a start.” You pointed at him.

“Right, ready, Nadezhda? Ahdeen, dvah, tree-”

“Alfie!”