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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

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Just A Friend

AO3

Another Sunday, another chapter. Hope it’s a good weekend for you all, despite these uncertain times. I always intended this story to be a bit of fluffy light relief from the real world. Thanks for all the support for it.

There will probably be another 3 chapters after this, depending on how the characters behave. I cant seem to make them do what I want sometimes!

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Chapter 11: From Marriage to Mackenzie

It’s 1pm and I’m in a hotel room, still in a bathrobe, sipping Buck’s Fizz whilst a hairdresser wrestles with my wayward curls, finally managing to corral them into some sort of recognisable hair style.

Geillis is sitting on the edge of the bed incongruously dressed in tiara and bathrobe, her hair arranged in an elaborate updo. I catch her eye through the dressing table mirror and smile before my vision is obscured by a miasma of hairspray.

A few final tweaks of my curls and it’s done. I am just amazed that my hair can be cajoled into such glossy, bouncy curls, held behind one ear by an ornately decorated comb. With suitable compliments and thanks, Geillis and I bid goodbye to the hairdresser.

The bride stands up and adjusts the belt of her robe. She seems the epitome of calm.

“Are you not nervous, Geillis? You’ll be walking down the aisle in about an hour’s time.”

“Weel, I am a wee bit worried about a couple of things,” she admits. “I dinna ken how ma cousin Janie will behave. She may try tae proposition every man under the age of seventy five. And as fer Dougal’s Uncle Eric—he has been known tae get steamin’ drunk and puke in the rose beds. But about the marrying? Nah, I dinna have any nerves about that. I want tae spend ma life wi’ Dougal and that’s what today is all about. I have nae worries about making that commitment. He’s the one fer me. When ye ken, ye ken. Trust me, Claire.”

The pocket of her bathrobe begins to buzz. She quickly pulls out her phone and reads the message.

“I’d best go. That was Mam, fretting about something or other. Are ye ok getting dressed on yer own?”

“I’ve managed for the past twenty nine years or so. I dare say I can manage another day.” I sigh theatrically.

“I ken. Ye can manage on yer own. Ye always do. But thanks fer being here with me today. It means a lot tae have the people who mean the most tae me around,” she leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “But remember what I said, Claire, when ye ken, ye ken. Dinna ignore it.”

Pausing at the interconnecting doorway, she does a quick body shimmy and grins. “Woo hoo! I’m getting married. Canna believe it’s here now,”

From the adjoining room, I can hear a shouted response. “Geillis Duncan, ye get here now. Yer mam reckons that makeup lassie has done her eyeliner wonky. It looks fine tae me. Can ye come and talk some sense in tae the daft cow?”

“Alright, Da, I’m coming.” Geillis yells back before leaving to deal with her parents.

I sit down and study my bridesmaid’s dress, now hanging on the wardrobe door. I’m getting excited about the day ahead. Probably not as much as Geillis, obviously, but a host of butterflies appears to have taken residence in the pit of my stomach.

I’m truly thrilled for Geillis to be marrying Dougal—they love each other so much. But, also, it’s scary to me. She is willing, eager even, to commit to one person, to base her future life, her future happiness on one man. If they should ever leave…well, I’m not sure I’d be able to cope with that. If you love too hard, you can hurt too much. Trust me on that, I know. People leave you. Don’t give your heart to anyone, keep it hidden away, protected…intact.

The ping from my phone diverts me from this somber train of thought.

I’m downstairs at the hotel. Can you come and say hello?

I quickly type:

Come up to the 2nd floor. I’ll meet you by the lift.

Making sure the keycard is in my pocket, I slip my feet into the hotel’s complimentary slippers and shuffle out to meet Jamie.

I’m already waiting as the lift door opens and he emerges. My first thought is oh wow, as is my second...and third. He has made an effort for this wedding, and it’s certainly paid off. Eschewing the more formal Prince Charlie style, he’s wearing a charcoal grey jacket and waistcoat, perfectly matching the grey in his kilt. A crisp white shirt and burgundy tie complement the secondary colours in the tartan. His sporran is black leather, heavily etched or embossed. I can’t quite make out the detail. Then I feel myself blush as I realise I have been clearly staring at his...er, lower body. I look up quickly.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to have noticed. He looks me up and down and smiles. “Nice outfit,” he comments drily. “Is the bride wearing white towelling too? What’s the theme? Salon chic?”And is that part of the design?” He points to an orange stain on the front of my robe. I pull a face and tie the belt tighter, trying to tuck the offending piece of material out of sight.

“Must have spilled a drop of my Buck’s Fizz.”

“Drinking already? Dinna be staggering down the aisle.”

He reaches out towards my hair and pauses for a second before making a random circular motion with his hand. “And this…I like yer hair. It’s verra…verra…” he searches for the word. “... asymmetric.”

“Thank you,” I hold the ‘skirt’ of my robe and bob a little curtsy. “That’s totally what we were going for—asymmetric.”

He laughs. “Nah, seriously. Yer hair and yer makeup look grand. I’m sure ye’ll look lovely in yer dress.”

I gesture to my room. “I’d best finish getting ready.”

“Aye, I’ll see ye downstairs.” He presses the button for the lift.

“By the way, you look grand too.” I try to say it in an understated way. It’s true, but I don’t want him to read anything into the statement.

The lift arrives and he steps inside. As the doors close, he fires a parting shot. “Especially the sporran, eh?”

*********

Now in my bridesmaid’s dress, I practice a couple of pirouettes in front of the mirror before hearing a quick knock on the door to the adjoining room.

“Ye ready, Claire? Mam’s jes’ gone down. Only us three left.”

I walk through to the other room to be met by a riot of open suitcases, bags and boxes. A variety of towels, dressing gowns and footwear seem to be carpeting the floor.

“‘S ok,” Geillis’ voice comes from behind me. “It’s no’ ma problem. I’m no’ sleeping here tonight. I’ll be in the bridal suite. This’ll be Mam and Dad’s room.”

I turn to see my best friend now fully dressed and ready. Her father is hovering next to her, clad in kilt and full formal regalia. I always knew she would win that battle.

As beautiful as she looks, the thing that really strikes me is the way her father is watching her, with such love and pride. She returns his gaze and brings her forehead to rest against his cheek.

I swallow hard, fighting the desire to shed a tear. It’s such a precious image, so intimate, but also, I realise that, since Lamb died, I have nobody, no father figure, to share something like this. I feel a momentary pang of, not jealousy, but a feeling of regret over an emotion that I will never get to experience.

And then, just like that, the moment passes.

It always does.

Geillis passes me a creamy white posy tied with a simple ribbon and gathers up her bouquet of peonies, roses and fragrant eucalyptus.

“OK,” she takes a deep breath and breaks into a huge grin. “I think I’m late enough tae get Dougal jes’ a wee bit nervous. Time tae roll.”

*******

The hotel’s orangery provides a perfect setting for the wedding ceremony. Softly diffused sunlight filters through the white muslin drapes at the large windows. A slight breeze wafts the fabric gently, giving tantalising glimpses of the formal gardens outside.

At the end of the room, Dougal and Angus stand beside a large arch of succulent green foliage, staring straight ahead as Geillis and her father begin the procession down the aisle with me following.

Even before he turns to look, I can spot Jamie — his auburn curls are head and shoulders above those around him. He stays still at first, but as we draw near he turns around and grins before doing his funny blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes, which I have learnt, is Jamie’s attempt at a wink. I return his smile before focussing on the arch getting ever closer.

Dougal appears rooted to the spot, but Angus turns around and watches for a moment before giving me a perfectly executed wink. I smile politely even as I shudder inwardly. The sheer self confidence of that man is beyond belief. Then he disappears from my thoughts as Geillis reaches the arch and passes me her bouquet to hold. The joy on her and Dougal’s faces as they prepare to make their vows is wonderful and I’m so happy to be a part of it all.

***************

They say the sun shines on the righteous. Well, Geillis and Dougal must be exceptionally good, as it’s a perfect summer afternoon. It’s beautifully warm, but not too hot, as all the guests mingle in the gardens, admiring the beautiful surroundings whilst drinking chilled champagne.

The photographer has finished with the formal photographs, so I’m allowed to relax and enjoy a glass or two. I can still spot him wandering around, ready to take more natural, candid shots of the proceedings but nobody seems to mind.

I was initially worried about inviting Jamie to the wedding for a couple of reasons. The first was my friends. Of course, my friends are great, but Anna and Mary can sometimes have an issue with boundaries and I had visions of the ‘conversations’ they might try to have with Jamie — ‘nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition’ unless Anna and Mary are around.

The second reason was that Jamie would literally know only one person at this wedding —me. And that, when I was off doing official ‘wedding stuff’, he would be on his own, billy-no-mates. But, as I look around, I realise I had absolutely nothing to worry about on that score. He has the knack, it seems, to get on with everyone.

At the moment he’s talking to Geillis’s father, laughing and joking like they’re old friends. He notices me looking at him, lifts his empty glass up and points to me. I hold my glass up and nod. He excuses himself and strolls towards the bar.

There’s a slight touch on my elbow. “Hello, dear.”

I draw my attention to the old lady standing next to me—Geillis’ great aunt Frances. I’ve met her on a couple of occasions before and have always enjoyed her company. She’s a straight talker and makes no bones about it. “When ye get tae my age,” I remember her commenting to me “ye dinna have time tae beat about the bush, ye need tae say what ye think.” I like that in a person.

“Hello, how nice to see you.”

“Ye too,dear. I must say ye’re looking awfa bonnie in that dress. It’s a fine colour on ye.”

“Thank you. And you’re looking lovely yourself.”

Frances makes a self deprecating ‘hmph’ sound, dismissing my compliment with a wave of her hand. “Away wi’ ye. Ye do yer best wi’ what ye’ve still got. Which isna much in ma case.”

I shake my head. “Not at—“

But she decides to change the subject and moves on with her next question. “Is that yer young man over there?” She points at Jamie, heading towards us with two glasses of champagne. “He’s a handsome chap, is he no’? Mind ye, that’s no more than ye deserve. Sae, mebbe ye’ll be next?”

“No, we—“

I have no chance to say anything more, before Jamie is by my side and handing me one of the glasses. I take a sip as he notices that Frances has no drink and, without hesitation, he passes the second glass to her.

“Aren’t ye kind… er?” She accepts gratefully.

“Jamie.”

“Weel, Jamie, let me tell ye. It’s been a long while since a good looking young man has brought me a drink. I should make the most of it. Anyway, I was jes’ saying tae our Claire here, how bonnie she looks today. Does she no’?”

She fixes her gaze on Jamie, demanding an answer.

“Aye, she looks lovely.” His eyes meet mine for a second, before I look away and try to change the subject.

“Don’t you think Geillis looks beautiful, Frances?”

But, it seems that Frances has one line of conversation that she is keen to pursue. “Oh aye, she does. But, Jamie, I was jes’ saying tae Claire that mebbe she’ll be next. What d’ye think?”

Fortunately, I’m spared any response as a gong sounds and the maître d’ announces that dinner is served and that everyone should make their way inside to the dining room.

****************

Having narrowly avoided any embarrassment, I am somewhat apprehensive to see Frances at our table. Fortunately, Geillis’ cousin and baby are enough to divert her attention away from any matrimonial prospects that may or may not be on my horizon.

With Jamie sitting by my side, I catch him up on all the behind the scenes activity of my day and we fall into our pattern of easy conversation and gentle banter. From time to time, I can see Frances, opposite, watching us with a look of approval on her face, but she says nothing.

Once the speeches and toasts are over, there’s a palpable change in the guests. Jackets are draped over chair backs, sleeves rolled up and waistcoat buttons undone. I can spot more than one woman moving awkwardly in her chair, struggling to locate the shoes that were eased off out of sight under the table. Cheeks become flushed with an abundance of rich food and tongues become looser with a surfeit of fine wine.

I sip my whisky, savouring its peaty smokiness. Jamie is in a serious rugby related conversation with his neighbour. A rustle of fabric behind me announces the arrival of the bride, a look of frustration on her face.

She greets the table politely before whispering “Can I borrow ye, Claire?”

I make my excuses and follow her into a quieter room.

“What’s up, Geillis? Is everything alright?” I’m concerned that there’s something genuinely wrong.

“It’s his bloody family,” she hisses. “The Mackenzies, if ye give them an inch, they’ll take a fuckin’ mile.”

She takes a deep breath and continues. “Dougal invited his second cousin Gary and his wife tae our evening do. Jes’ the two of them mind. Sae they turn up an hour and a half early and try tae cadge dessert and brandies from the waiters.”

“Where are they now?”

“Och, they’re sitting outside wi’ a couple of spare bottles of wine.” She gestures angrily to the gardens visible through the window. “And they’ll be first in the queue fer the buffet this evening, nae doubt. And what's more, they took it upon themselves tae bring their three bairns too. Weel, I say bairns, but they’re all in their twenties so it’s no’ as if they dinna have a babysitter.”

She finally sits down and lets her shoulders relax.

I take her hand and try to look serious. If this is the worst thing that happens today, that’s not so bad. Although clearly, in Geillis’ eyes, this is a catastrophe. “It’s not going to spoil anything really is it? They didn’t gatecrash the meal or the speeches,” I speak in a soothing tone. “Are you ok now?”

She nods. “Happen ye’re right. I jes’ wanted tae get it off ma chest. And I kent what I was getting in tae wi’ his family. But tae drag Gregory, Alicia and Laoghaire uninvited wi’ them jes’ pisses me off.”

I stare at her. “Laoghaire? Laoghaire Mackenzie?”

“Aye, that’s right. Unusual name, is it no’? Ye dinna find many of them around—thank god.”

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pokecatt · 4 years

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CWATS: Their Ad'ika

It was seven years since Agne left with her child Verra. The time they spent on the planet Konia was filled with fun and stories about the force and the clonewars.

He had removed his chip three years after the war. Though Med have never gone there himself, he sometimes send gifs though the assistance of Lema Syks. He fears that if he does go, the Empire would follow.

"Why don't daddy ever visit us?" Young Verra asked.

"Because of the bad empire that would follow if he ever come out of hiding." Agne replied.

"But aunty Lema gets to come over and they haven't followed her."

"She is magical like me, it helps her sneak away from the empire." Everyone on Konia calls the force magic and she ended up calling it that too.

"Oh I see, that makes sense I guess."

"It's getting late, better get ready for bed."

"Okay momma."

--------

On Nar-Shaddaa, Med runs a free med center in secret. He and his brother Doc are the only clones running the place. If word get out about it, the Hutts would likely empose taxes and control. The kindly donations from happy neighbors are the only thing that keeps them going.

Med gets on the rooftop of their building. The view is clouded by the pollution, but he can faintly spot the stars at night. When it got dark enough, he scans the sky. The star he looks for is for the planet Kamino. He misses the place where he was made. But also, he would wonder what star Konia belongs to. He knows that It's not on any map, far away from here. But it's fun to at least try.

"There you are Med, we kinda need your help down here." Doc interrupts the moment.

"Be down there in a bit Doc."

--------

Verra and her friend Ivran Jr play in the garden around the shuttle craft that she calls home. The ship hasn't moved since they landed years ago. Carefully parked near the tall trees with vines reaching near the top. The republic cog paint job on the top wing is faded and chipping away.

Ivran Jr isn't quite like his siblings, though his older sister Jane comes close but she is more judgemental than him. Verra on the other hand just clicks. They're like two peas in a pod.

"My mom said that I have potential to be a sourceror." Jr said to Verra.

"What is a sourceror anyway? Aren't they like Wizards or something?"

"Uhh, I think they tend to focus on the nature of magic."

"That sounds like my mom."

"Maybe she can teach me something sometime."

"Yeah, that would be great."

--------

"Can you teach me what you know about Jedi magic?" Ivran Jr approach Agne with a curious question. Though shy in nature, he managed to gather the nerve to ask.

Agne was in the veggie garden watering the plants. "You must have heard of that from Verra."

"Uh, yes, I want to know about everything magical." He was a little surprised that she would know. But maybe it was the magic he reasoned.

"Well, what do you know already?" She is already finished with the watering and walks to him.

"I have studied alot on elemental mancery, and able to cast the basic magical spells." Normally, he would be shaking if she was a stranger, but having been with friends with Verra all of his life made Agne an aunt to him.

"Does your parents know what you are getting into?" She stand in front of him.

"Yes and no, you see. They already know about your magic. But, I uh, haven't told them about me being your student. " Ivran is getting a bit nervous talking. But Agne sensed it.

"It's okay, I'll ask them for you and maybe even show them something. But before you go, why not have some cherriapples here."

After finishing his cherriapples, he meets with Verra. Giving her some of the fruit too.

"Hey Ivran, what did my mom say?"

"That she is going to ask my parents about it later. But I think that they will."

"Cool, it will be awesome to have you be my mom's padawan. And then you can be a Jedi and I will be your trooper. And together we can defeat the empire!"

"Oh yeah!"

--------

After discussing with Ivran's parents, Orick and Feana Silver, they accept Agne's offer.

"Are you sure it's ok, the training is serious."

"He has great magical potential, I think that it would be good for him to study under you." Feana said thinking about how great it would make the family be. She was always looking for great things for her children. But it was always their choice first, she would never push them into things that they don't want.

And so, Agne took Ivran under her wing. While teaching him how to focus on the force, she also trained Verra how to fight like a trooper. It was a promise to Med to teach her. She was given a blaster gun from the 301st, one of the few things that they have from the clones they have.

"Now focus on the stone, and lift it up."

Ivran sat down and for a moment concentrates on the stone, it moves a bit and then he looses focus.

"Keep trying, you can do with practice. Now let's see how our trooper is doing."

Verra is out in the field practicing her aim with her blaster. They have some targets set up across the field and about half of them are hit.

"You've improved since last time, your dad would be proud." Agne came with Ivran to see her.

"Some day we will be ready for the empire!" Verra said excited.

"Now Verra, don't get too excited about fighting them. You will lose yourself and get captured."

"How will we know when we are ready for them?"

"You will know when you are ready, but for now we should continue your training."

--------

"Lema, you made it back."

"Aunty Lema!" Verra is glad to see her back.

"Your father send you this." She hands Verra a gift.

"Really? Yay!" She opens the box and she finds a little toy clone trooper. "Alright! I have always wanted one!"

"It took him a while to find one, I don't think they make them anymore."

Verra is so happy, she runs off to play with her new toy.

"So Lema, what have you heard about the empire?" Agne asked.

"They are running the galaxy with an iron fist out there. They are looking for people to replace the clones with their stormtroopers."

"Oh my, how is Med doing out there?"

"He still runs the med center, but he also worries."

"Some things never changes."

"What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, but we are going to be ready for them in case they find us."

#cwacrossthestars #clonewars #CWATS #fanfiction

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years

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The Ties That Bind

AO3

Time for another chapter. Thanks for your continued support of this story. Hope you enjoy.

As ever, Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support.

Chapter 25: A Tense Miscommunication

Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper. - Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White

For Claire, Christmas had never been a time for family or traditions. She always supposed that before her parents’ deaths, they had celebrated together. Indeed she did have hazy recollections of being taken to meet Santa Claus, of the mince pie, sherry and carrot being left out on Christmas Eve, of the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. So hazy were these memories that she was never sure whether they were really hers, or if she had borrowed them from some Christmas film or television advert.

Once she went to live with Lamb, Christmas became something very different. The holidays were usually spent in some far-off location following the footsteps of the Crusaders. Gifts were exchanged, but usually before or after their travels and there were some years that the archaeologist and his niece lost track of dates, only realising days later that Christmas Day had been and gone and that Christmas dinner had consisted of nothing more fancy than bread, and cold meat and cheeses.

Even when Claire was with Frank, Christmas was never celebrated in a traditional way but usually involved a formal dinner in a smart hotel with Frank keenly observing Claire’s food and alcohol consumption (Christmas pudding and a mince pie, Claire? Is that really necessary? Another glass of wine?). Consequently, she frequently offered to cover some of the more unpopular shifts at the hospital over the festive period.

This year, she felt, was payback time. As early as possible she requested the full Christmas and New Year period off, knowing no one would refuse that based on her willingness to work over previous years.

And so, when Jamie asked in early November whether she was working over Christmas and New Year, she confidently told him that she wasn’t. That was the end of the conversation.

By the end of November, the conversation had still not resumed. Claire was getting decidedly nervous about the holiday plans and sought reassurance from Geillis as they had their regular get-together at their favourite Italian restaurant.

“So, why do you think he hasn’t mentioned Christmas plans yet? Am I not invited? Is it like the Royal family, you know, where you have to be married to one of them before you’re invited to spend Christmas with them at Sandringham?”

“Claire, have another glass of wine and dinna fash. There isna any doubt in ma mind that ye will be snuggled up wi’ yer man fer the holidays in the Highlands. I reckon he thinks it’s a done deal that ye’ll be spending Christmas together, or that he’s already spoken tae ye about it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Ye come along and spend it wi’ me and ma family. Ye’d be verra welcome, ye ken. And the family Christmas dinner will be grand, as long as we keep Granny away from the rum.”

Claire did as she was told and poured herself another glass of wine. “Okay, but if he hasn’t said anything by the first week in December, I’m going to tackle him about it. I know he’s got a lot on his mind with… Geneva… but…”

Geillis poured the remains of the bottle of wine into her glass, motioning to the waiter for another bottle as she placed the empty one upended in the ice bucket. “How is the stuck-up bitch doin’?”

“She’s actually doing ok, I believe from what Jamie tells me. But she’s taken to texting or ringing him with every little twinge or ache. Last week she rang to say that her fingers had swelled and she needed help with preparing dinner.”

Geillis, mid sip of her wine, snorted with laughter. Dabbing the spilt wine up with her napkin, she finally caught her breath, coughed and carried on talking.

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake, it went right up ma nose.” She blew her nose on the napkin. “He didna go round did he? He’s no’ feelin’ that guilty that he has tae jump every time she clicks her fingers?”

“No, thankfully, he has a new tactic. Any twinge, pain or swelling he now tells her that I will go and see her, since I’m a doctor. She really doesn’t want anything to do with me, so the ailment suddenly vanishes… Are you sure I don’t need to worry about Christmas, G?”

********

Jamie finished his phone call to his father and walked into the kitchen where Claire was loading the dishwasher. He stood for a minute admiring how her arse wiggled slightly from side to side as she positioned the crockery and saucepans to her satisfaction before closing the door. He was frequently tempted to deliberately load it in a haphazard way, just so she would have to spend longer over that activity. Her old, comfortable yoga pants were very worn, the fabric stretched so thin that Jamie could clearly see the lines of her panties. He adjusted himself discreetly as Claire stood up, then trapped her between his arms, each hand resting on the countertop behind her. She lifted her face up for a kiss and Jamie dutifully obliged.

“That was Da. He said tae remind ye about the tacky Christmas jumper competition.”

The look of incomprehension on Claire’s face made Jamie pause for a moment. “Fer Christmas, I told ye about our tradition every Christmas Day. Worst jumper wins the prize. I reckon we should drive up to Lallybroch Christmas Eve morning if that’s ok wi’ ye.”

“Well, yes, you told me about the tradition but you never asked me to come to Lallybroch with you for Christmas.” Claire freed herself from Jamie’s embrace and stood, hands on hips, lips pressed together.

“Aye, I did. I said a few weeks back, I remember askin’ ye if ye were off work fer the holidays and ye said ye were.” Jamie retaliated.

“Which does not equate to asking me to Lallybroch for Christmas.” Claire was now in no mood for backing down. “How am I expected to know if you don’t ask me? I might have made other plans.”

“Weel, have ye?”

“No,” Claire admitted. “but that’s not the point. You can’t make decisions without asking me. I’ve been in a relationship like that with Frank and…”

Jamie inhaled sharply at the mention of that name. “I did ask ye. Ye knew what I meant and ye said yes.”

“Do not suppose to tell me what I know or don’t. You cannot do that. Frank was always trying to…” Claire’s voice was icy calm.

“Frank!” Jamie exclaimed loudly, banging his fist on the countertop. “I dinna want tae hear that name. I am no’ like Frank!”

Claire stepped closer to Jamie, her face now flushed with frustration, her finger jabbing against the solid muscle of his chest. She desperately wanted to slap his face, inflict some pain but held herself in check. “You don’t like it when I mention Frank, my ex boyfriend. You’ve never met him, he has no place in our lives, contact with him is zero but you don’t like it.”

The jabs with her finger continued. Jamie winced, not from any pain but he knew what was coming.

“But I have to have your fucking ex rammed down my throat. Her and her attempts to play happy families with you. And I take it with no complaint. But please excuse me if I mention a man’s name once in a while. I don’t mean to upset your delicate constitution.” Claire’s voice now dripped with sarcasm.

She moved away from Jamie. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, don’t even want to look at you. I’d storm out but this is my fucking flat, so just leave me alone.”

She rushed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

******

Jamie sat down, wondering what to do now. He had no intention of actually leaving the flat, but realised that he needed to give Claire some time alone before he began to try to make amends. He knew he would have to do some serious apologising. The fault lay with him not communicating with Claire properly about Christmas; assuming she would go along with his decisions and then going mad when the comparisons with Frank were made. He never wanted to make Claire feel like Frank had made her feel, and yet he’d done just that. And she was right, she had to put up with his ex being a very real part of their lives whereas Frank was just a name.

Jamie decided to give Claire some more time and then try to apologise.

******

Claire had donned her onesie as some form of comforter and was curled up on her bed. She knew the argument wasn’t about Christmas really. Jamie had to learn that she wouldn’t put up with behaviour like Frank’s. Plus the whole Geneva situation niggled away at her. Most of the time she could handle that, but every so often it just bubbled over and needed a release valve. The valve tonight had been Jamie’s performance as jealous boyfriend and first class dickhead.

Months ago, when she and Geillis first discussed having a fling, one of the criteria was no complications. Well, Claire smiled ruefully, that had well and truly been blown out of the water.

There was a tentative knock at the door. Claire said nothing. The door opened slightly and a hand appeared waving a white teatowel. The hand took Claire’s silence as permission to enter, and pushed the door open wide.

Jamie dropped the towel and came over to the bed. Claire shimmied over to make room for him to sit next to her. She said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. He settled himself on the bed, shuffling his bottom up the mattress and leaned back against the headboard. His hand reached across the pillow and stroked Claire’s hair, tucking that insistent rogue curl behind her ear.

“Claire, I’m that sorry. That was all ma fault back there. I kent you’d want tae spend Christmas up at Lallybroch but I shouldna have planned it wi’out askin’ ye. I shoulda spoken tae ye about it. I dinna want tae be like Frank.”

Claire pulled Jamie’s arm, forcing him to lie down next to her, face to face, so close they could each feel the other’s breath against their mouths. It was now her turn to run her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with her nails. He groaned slightly in pleasure at the sensation.

“And ye’re right, I am… was… am a jealous prick. I ken Frank means nothin’ tae ye and the only time ye mention him tae me is tae speak badly of him. I have nae right to shout at ye and ye have every right tae shout at me. I dinna have tae live wi’ Frank in our lives save as an unpleasant memory, but ye have tae put up wi’ Geneva in our lives all the time and know that it isna goin’ tae go away.”

Jamie kissed her lightly on the lips, gratified that he could feel her respond to him, pulling him closer.

“Jamie, nobody said relationships were easy, especially with all the baggage we seem to have accumulated, but we need to work at it together and make decisions together. We are a team, remember.”

“So, will ye come tae Lallybroch wi’ me fer the holidays?”

“I would love to.”

He pulled apart from her, bringing his hand to her chest, struggling to find the zip on her onesie. He paused, momentarily, from his search.

“Wait, did ye just call Geneva an old bag?”

“I was actually talking about emotional baggage, but hey, why not?” Claire laughed.

“Fair point. Now, as a team, can we work at getting naked together? Starting with this blasted onesie.”

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fanfic #the ties that bind #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #chapter 25

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years

Text

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Thanks for taking the time to read and comment/ like/ reblog. I really appreciate it.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

Chapter 5 : A Sneaky Set-up

I just have a few more questions for you, Ann. What if he shows up with another woman? What if one of my sleeves catches on fire and it spreads rapidly? What if, instead of Tic Tacs, I accidentally pop a couple of Ambien and I have to keep punching my leg to stay awake? -Leslie Knope, Parks and Recreation

Although the discreet lighting gave the Italian restaurant an intimate atmosphere, very few of the rays cast by the old, smoked glass lamps actually made it into the wooden booths favoured by Claire and Geillis on their frequent visits. Fortunately, this didn’t bother them, even though reading the menu proved to be a challenge.

“You did what, G?” Claire stared intently at her friend.

Geillis continued to focus on her menu. “Ye ken, I canna read this damn thing. How do I decide what tae have?”

“Stop ignoring my question and put the bloody menu down, G. We come here all the time. You always have the same thing. Talk to me.”

Geillis peered over the top of her menu. “Ach, all I did was give yer phone number tae a certain gentleman I saw in the Emergency Department. I think his name was Jamie Fraser. I kent he was wi’ his nephew and I thought, just in case he may need some more medical advice for the wee lad, ye ken.”

From the corner of her eye, Claire could see the white shirt of a nearby waiter. She beckoned him over. “Hi, could we have two spaghetti with meatballs, please, with garlic bread to share and a bottle of Pinot Grigio? And could we have the wine as soon as possible, please?”

The waiter disappeared with assurances that the wine would be there straight away. Claire’s mind was in a whirl. On the one hand, the emotional side of her brain seemed to be doing its own little happy dance, complete with rockets and confetti, but was being tempered by the logical side, which featured disciplinary panels, codes of conduct and probably a deafening silence from Mr. Jamie Fraser.

A click of glasses announced the arrival of the wine. Declining the offer to taste it, Claire gratefully accepted a half full glass from the waiter and took a large gulp.

“But, why would you do that?” She resumed her questioning of Geillis. “Did you not think about professional conduct?”

“The way I see it is… point one…” Geillis counted off the points on her fingers. “Point one, Jamie Fraser isna and has ne’er been your patient. Point two, you gave a consultation tae his nephew, who has since been discharged from yer care. Point three, I didna give yer number tae yer patient, merely a relative. Point four, he has a useful contact if he’s worried about the wee laddie. And most importantly, I reckon he fits the first criteria for yer fling. I ken he was wearing jeans today, but they were verra well fitting, did ye no’ notice? So tall and broad, he has tae look good in a kilt… and no’ a disappointment out of it, I’m sure.”

Claire drained her wine. “Christ, these glasses don’t hold much, do they?”

She helped herself to a second. The happy dance in her head was being liberally pissed on by her brain’s logical side. “I’m still not sure about a relationship… sorry, fling. Besides, that’s not the point, he won’t ring, I know. Passive rejection, that’ll be.”

“For an intelligent woman, Claire, you do talk some shite sometimes. Frank really messed up yer mind. Can ye no’ see - ye’re beautiful and bright and funny? What man wouldna want a fling wi’ ye? God, if I were that way inclined, I’d have a go meself!”

Claire snorted into her wine. “I’m sure Dougal would have something to say about that!”

“Aye, that he would... including the words, ‘please,’ ‘do it,’ and ‘can I watch’... bless him.”

Two plates of spaghetti and meatballs appeared in front of them followed by a waiter brandishing a huge pepper mill. Geillis shook her head as the pepper mill hovered over her plate.

“I’m sure my friend would be interested in some, though.”

Claire nodded and tried not to catch Geillis’s eye as the pepper was added to her meal.

“D’ya like that grinder then, Claire?” Geillis giggled. ”Length and girth there, as with certain other things, I imagine. I’d be verra interested tae find out, wouldn’t ye, eh?”

**************

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a very long and trying day. He loved looking after his nephew. He enjoyed their games, the time spent building with Duplo. He was looking forward to the day when they could progress to proper Lego. In fact, he had a whole box of it up in his loft, just waiting, including the seven and a half thousand pieces needed to build the Star Wars Millennium Falcon. It said ages nine to fourteen on the box, but Jamie was sure they could tackle that next year - once Wee Jamie had got out of the habit of licking all the blocks.

But today had been exhausting. The park had been fine until they started to chase the ducks and then, bang, Wee Jamie had gone flying over a partially concealed tree root, scattering the food for the ducks all round and bursting into noisy sobs. When even the promise of an ice cream had not halted the flow of tears, Jamie had suspected a more severe injury and whisked him straight off to the Emergency Department. Thankfully, it was only a sprain and Jamie had deposited his nephew back with Jenny and Ian generally undamaged, once he had made sure that the smell of chips no longer lingered on him.

Jamie poured himself a large whisky, added a dash of filtered water and settled down on his large burgundy sofa. He flicked idly through the channels on the television, before switching it off, enjoying the silence of his living room and contemplating the other interesting part of the visit to the hospital.

He now had the mobile number of Doctor... no, she was a surgeon, so it should be Miss… Claire Beauchamp. At least he hoped she was a miss, not a missus. But in that case, would that nurse have given him the phone number? Well, maybe she would have if it was just for professional reasons. So, was it professional only? That nurse said...

Things clicked into place in Jamie’s memory. He had seen that nurse before, when he was in the pub with Geneva last week. She was the one who leant over and claimed that tatty old napkin. Jamie tried, unsuccessfully, to remember what had been written on it but his mind was a blank. He must have been too busy gazing at her friend in the doorway… Claire Beauchamp, orthopaedic surgeon and owner of a mobile phone. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and unfolded the small piece of paper. With his other hand, he lifted his phone and dialled.

**************

Having managed to finish the meal without actually throttling Geillis to stop her constant stream of double entendres and suggestive comments, Claire was looking forward to taking advantage of the light summer nights and taking a refreshing walk back to her flat. However, as she stared out of the restaurant, she could see that was not going to happen. The sky was already dark, filled with heavy grey clouds. Rain lashed against the door and windows, with large puddles already forming on the pavement.

“Have to be a taxi, then, G.” Claire fumbled in her oversized handbag for her mobile. “Oh, I’ve a missed call here… not one of my contacts. Probably one of those pain in the neck marketing calls. You know, you have recently been involved in a no-fault car accident and so on. Funny, you think I’d remember if I had been.” Claire felt herself babbling, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Let me see,” Geillis made a quick movement and snatched the phone from Claire’s hand.

“It’s a mobile number. You have such an unoriginal passcode, Claire.” She unlocked the phone and pressed redial, ignoring Claire’s feeble sounds of protestation.

“Here, it’s ringing.”

She passed the phone back. As Claire put the phone to her ear, she heard the call connect.

“Hello?”

Claire immediately recognised the deep, Scottish burr from earlier in the day. She swallowed and tried to move further away from Geillis, who was straining like a dog on a leash to get as close as possible to the phone, avid to hear every single word of the conversation.

“Hello, this is Claire Beauchamp. I’ve got a missed call from this number? Who is this, please?” She was conscious of how formal and English she sounded and how she was lying.

“Hello, this is Jamie Fraser. We met earlier today at the hospital with ma nephew, Jamie Murray?”

“Ah yes, is there a problem? Is your nephew alright?”

Jamie’s heart sank. So the nurse had given her number for professional reasons. “Aye, he’s grand. No, it’s no’ that…” He hesitated.

Jamie was rarely lost for words, with an appropriate phrase for every occasion and a set of charming chat up lines - none of which he wanted to use on this woman. No cheesy chat up line for Claire, just plain honesty.

“I’m glad that nurse gave me yer number. In the hospital, I was wondering if I should ask ye for yer number. But then ye disappeared afore I had chance. So, I was wonderin’ if ye would like tae go out wi’ me sometime this week or next week. Fer a meal, or a drink. If ye’re no’ able, I understand. I ken ye must be busy.” Jamie decided to shut up before he managed to talk her out of this date completely.

Claire turned her back on Geillis who was now making kissing noises and licking her lips seductively.

“Yes, thanks, that would be very nice.” She screwed her nose up in disgust. I must sound like a old maiden aunt to him, she thought, enough to make him go off me before anything’s even begun. “Lovely. I’d like that very much.”

“OK, weel, now ye have my number, how about ye text me when ye’re free. As a doctor, I guess ye’re no’ too flexible… with dates, I mean.”

“I’ll check my diary at home and get back to you. Bye, Jamie”

“Bye then Claire.” Jamie put the phone down and finished his whisky. Now he just had to wait for Claire to text him.

Claire turned to Geillis. “I think I’ve got a date”

Geillis made an exaggerated bow. “Thank ye. My work here is done. I would say to name yer firstborn after me, but as this is a fling that willna happen. So, all I ask is that ye tell me all the gory details. Every little, or no’ so little, thing. Dinna leave anything out. Deal?”

Claire laughed “G, you are obsessed.”

“Aye, But ye love me anyways!”

**************

Claire: I’ve checked my diary and I would be free on Thursday evening. Are you ok with that date? Claire

Jamie Fraser: Thursday is fine with me too. Any type of food you don’t like?

Claire: Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you with that text. Didn’t realise the time.

Claire : I’m fine with most food, although I have a confession

Jamie Fraser: That’s ok. I wasn’t asleep

Jamie Fraser: Confession? That sounds interesting. Should I get a priest?

Claire: Haha. Not that serious, although you may be shocked when you hear it

Jamie Fraser: Go on. Not sure I like where this is going

Claire: I don’t like haggis

Claire: ...

Claire: or deep fried mars bars

Jamie Fraser: Well that’s all my restaurant choices gone then. Maybe go for Italian? Would that be ok?

Sassenach: That would be lovely

Jamie Fraser: OK. I will book it and let you know the arrangements.

Sassenach: Goodnight Jamie

Jamie Fraser: Night Claire

#outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #the ties that bind #chapter 5

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