An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 29/?
Fandom: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Characters: Claire Beauchamp, Jamie Fraser, Fergus Fraser, Jenny Murray, Ian Murray, Sandy Travers, Frank Randall, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, Ned Gowan
Additional Tags: Berlin, The Frasers in Prussia, Germany
Summary:
“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange
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Alright, here we gooooooooo! My very first fic! I have the first three chapters written out. This will definitely be drawn out, so stick with it! Lots of fluff, lots of angst! Inspired by Driver’s License by Olivia Rodrigo. You can also catch me over on Twitter @ tessaactually.
READ ON AO3
“What do I even wear to something like this? Jeans? A sweater? Fuck, Geillis, I can’t believe you talked me into doing this.” Claire tossed her phone to the middle of the bed. With her hands on her hips, she stood in her closet staring at all the clothes that wouldn’t work for tonight. Things were strewn from the doorway of her bedroom across the floor, up onto the bed, hanging off the dresser from hangers, and into the closet that led to her bathroom. Geillis Duncan, one of Claire’s best friends, had started a tradition of going on Friday nights. Geillis was always the life of the party with her outgoing personality, uncanny ability to read just about anyone, her fiery red hair swinging as she danced regardless of what song was playing. In Geillis, Claire found a soulmate. Someone to dance with, someone to laugh with, someone to drink with, someone to be truly best friends with. Sometimes, though, their ideas of a good time differed. Tonight just happened to be one of those times.
“Stop thinking sae hard. Maybe after a few drinks, ye’ll have a little more fun, aye?” Geillis responded hopefully through the speakerphone. Having more fun is indeed what she promised herself she would do, so she’d go out with Geillis -- damn her -- and try her best to have a good time tonight. It sounded like a nightmare, but she’d try. She’d try to have fun. Memories of the days when she made that vow to herself came flooding back unbidden, and she sat in the middle of her bedroom floor next to a discarded cardigan as she slipped into an unwanted reverie.
When Claire left Oxford College five years ago and gave up studying medicine, nearly everyone she knew tried to convince her she was making the biggest mistake of her life. Classmates staged interventions, friends tried to reason with her, and her professors pleaded with her to not waste her talent. No one was quite as angry as her boyfriend at the time. Claire expected frustration, sadness, maybe a little resentment, but never anger.
“I don’t think I can keep doing this, Frank. I really don’t.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she sat slumped on the floor against their bed. Raindrops ran down the windowpanes, thunder cracked the sky.
“I truly don’t understand how you could be so selfish! You have the talent for the coursework and the money to go here and you’re just, what? Going to through it all away?!” Frank stood across from her, forearm braced on the wall above his head. It was going on two hours since he had looked her in the eye. Claire sniffled in the background. Frank’s fist came to the wall with a sound rivaling the storm raging outside. His storm was not over.
“Don’t you think I’ve thought this through? I have a plan. I’m going to take the rest of my savings, maybe move back to the states and…” Her voice started to break then. Frank spun around on his heel to finally look at her, to really look at her. His chest was heaving,
“And what, Claire? And do what with your life? What about the life we planned together?” He stomped toward her, shaking the floorboards under her body as she clung to her knees. When she looked up, tears starting to fall from her lashes, he dropped to his knees in front of her, grasping for her hands. Claire finally saw more than anger. She finally saw the fear he was trying to reign in but quickly losing control of.
“I’m figuring it out, Frank. I’ll figure it out. We can figure it out. Maybe… maybe I’ll finally open up a greenhouse. You know how much I’ve always wanted to do that. Please, I… I can’t keep going on like this here. I’m so worn down and I can’t -- I know that I can’t -- survive it here another year.” The tears fell. She had been bottling up these thoughts for three years, and couldn’t hold back any longer. “Please, say you understand. Say you love me. Say you support me.” The teardrops turned into rivers. “Say you love me.”
For a few moments, Claire wondered if he had heard her pleas through her wrecking sobs. Finally, Frank let out the breath he was holding, letting his shoulders slump. He dropped her hands without ceremony. He ran a hand through his ordinarily perfect hair. He sat back on the floor, one knee bent up and the other outstretched. His arms reached behind him to hold him up. He just, stared at her.
She was jolted. She had expected outrage. She studied him as best she could through her swollen eyes and water-stained glasses. Everything was silent. The room they had shared for the past three years, was silent. Absently, she noticed the thunder and lightning and pounding rain had stopped, leaving only an occasional trail of water down the old glass windows. With every second the sky turned brighter shades of purple and pink and orange with the impending sunset. On a different day, maybe in a different place, she might have appreciated their beauty. Instead, she noted the silence.
Looking back at Frank then placing her face in her hands once more, she pleaded one last time: “Please say you love me.”
Frank blinked.
In one swift motion he was off the floor and moving toward her. She heard the old floorboard creak. She felt the air whoosh around the room with his movement. She waited for him to reach her.
“Claire. Look at me.”
Ah. Not moving toward her after all. Standing in the doorway with an air of having concluded a business dealing, Frank was watching her with not a single trace of emotion. Claire’s head rose. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and glanced his way with a smile, until she saw where he stood.
“I have never been so disappointed in you. Goodbye, Claire.”
Frank took a breath and looked her up and down, from wild curls to curled up toes. Claire opened her mouth to speak. Frank closed the door behind him as he left. Everything was silent.
Claire shook her head, making her curls bounce like springs. Geillis was still talking but hadn’t seemed to notice the lack of responses coming from the other end. Claire pulled herself up and tried to figure out what Geillis had been talking about.
“... They’re really sweet and kind and they’re really great about buying ye more than a few drinks, plus they’re fellow Scots and just the nicest! I mean, sometimes they’re a little rowdy, ye ken, but I think that’s what ye get when ye go out with Scots --” Geillis was rambling, and Claire didn’t have the foggiest idea who she was referencing.
“Hold on a sec,” Claire tugged an oversized oxblood sweater over her head. “Okay, fill me in again, please. Who did you invite tonight? I thought this was a girl’s night out after a long week!” She tugged on a pair of black faux-leather leggings, bracing on the dresser for balance and she began to tip over.
When Claire left Oxford, she moved back to Boston into her uncle’s old brownstone. Although her Uncle Lamb died during her freshman year at school, he had left her a hefty inheritance. Claire and her uncle were each other’s only family and when he died, he left her everything he had. In his will, he left Claire a note that simply read, “These things are only things, my dear. Use them to follow your dreams, however you may see fit. Love you always, Lamb.” Everything he left her gave her a home in the states far away from everything she wanted to leave behind in England, and the means to start her own little greenhouse in a tiny historic shop in Beacon Hill. After her two closes friends from Oxford graduated, they both ended up in Boston with her. Joe Abernathy was going his residency as Mass Gen, and Geillis had come to do the same until she saw Claire’s shop and declared, “Fuck it, this is way more fun.” She helped in the shop with supplying a small zero-waste shopping section for patrons interested in doing more to protect to earth.
Geillis giggled like a school girl when she started describing the friends she had invited out with them that night. “Weel first there’s Angus. Remember him? I went on a date with him two weeks ago to Seven Ales, ken?”
“Oof, wasn’t that the one you got blackout drunk with?”
“That’s the one, dearie! And a braw time it was! I mean, I assume it was because I don’t really remember the wee hours of it if I’m being honest.”
“Shocker. Who’s next?” Claire kept Geilliss on speakerphone as she rummaged through a pile of shoes in the corner of the bedroom.
“Och, that’d be Rupert. I went out a week ago to Cheers and met the guy who made me laugh until I fell off the barstool?” She giggled to herself at the memory.
“Oh yes, I remember that one. He actually sounded pretty decent.”
“He’s a right sweetheart! Angus is as wheel, just a wee bit more crass, aye?” Claire could practically hear her winking through the phone.
“Alright, that’s not too bad. I can handle two more besides you and me and Joe. I’m actually getting excited for tonight! This week at the shop has been a lot.”
“Agreed, babe. I’ve got tae go, but I’ll meet ye there? Eight o’clock sharp, I want to get our names put in for karaoke!”
Five times Fergus couldn’t find his shirt and one time he found all five.
Tags: Fergus Fraser/Marsali MacKimmie Fraser; Claire Beauchamp/James Fraser (background); Fergus Fraser; Marsali MacKimmie Fraser; Rabbie McNab; Young Ian Murray; Claire Beauchamp; Jamie Fraser; Faith Fraser; Brianna Fraser; Alternate Universe: Modern Setting; Tumblr Prompt; One Shot; 5 + 1 Things; Clothing; Light-Hearted; Fluff and Smut; Romance; Sexual Content; Humorous Ending
A/N: Based on @outlanderpromptexchange’s 5 + 1 Things ‘Bonus Prompt’ and ‘Marsali likes to wear Fergus' oversized t-shirts’.
Ages: Fergus 20; Marsali 18/19*; Faith 11; Brianna 8 (*and because I’ve aged up Marsali, I’ve aged up the Murray kids, too)
Read on AO3 │ Submit a Prompt │ Beta: @purpleheatherdream
One
Fergus stood back and huffed out a breath in frustration.
The chest of drawers in front of him was in disarray with half of them still open to varying degrees, some pulled out at odd angles in haste, and his clothes scattered throughout. He spun on his heel and stormed downstairs, pausing only to check the piles of dirty - and not so dirty - clothes on his floor on the way out the door.
“What are you-”
Fergus ignored Rabbie as he made his way into the laundry and dumped the content of the clothes hamper onto the cold tiles.
“Mate. What are ye doing?”
He looked up and Rabbie was leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised and a shadow of apprehension on his face.
“Je ne trouve pas ma chemise. Je ne sais pas où il est!”
“Mate,” Rabbie said again. “English.”
Oh. “My shirt. The blue one with the…” he waved his hand in the general direction of his bare chest lost for words to describe the details. “My favourite one. I cannot find it.”
“The one Marsali said ‘suited yer eyes’ when she was here the other night, ye mean?” Rabbie's tone was all knowing and, afraid his roommate would continue on, Fergus threw a pair of dirty underwear at his face to distract him. He dodged out of the way with a rather undignified shriek and Fergus laughed. Rabbie recovered quickly, though, and scowled as he nudged the offending garment away with the toe of his shoe. “What does it matter, anyway? Even if ye find it in here, ye cannae be wearin’ something all wrinkled an' stinkin' like a bawbag,” he tilted his head mockingly, “Marsali wouldnae like it.”
Fergus abandoned his search with a resigned sigh. Teasing he might be, Rabbie was also right. Marsali would be nonplussed, no doubt, and arriving late to the pub would only make things worse.
“Come on, ye bampot,” Rabbie turned and walked away, raising his voice as he went. “Ye’re not the only one wi’ a lass tae impress tonight.”
Fergus tossed the dirty clothes back in the hamper half heartedly then grabbed the last shirt from the carry basket full of clean clothes he was still yet to put away and pulled it over his head as he followed, slipping his wallet into his back pocket and grabbing his keys from the empty fruit bowl sitting on the counter along the way. He paused at the coat rack to collect his leather jacket and turned to sweep his eyes over the living space one last time.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, set season 1 episode 13 "The Watch", Canon Divergence, Hurt Claire, worried Jamie, Excessive use of nicknames
Summary:
When Jamie leaves Lallybroch with the watch, Claire senses danger and has to make good on her promise to follow Jamie and drag him back. But things go south quickly when Claire is caught in the middle of the redcoat ambush.
Written for @outlanderpromptexchange Prompt: "Haste ye back."
She is completely disoriented. Awareness returns slowly. The feel of rain on her skin. The smell of the clean Highland air, the sight of darkness all around. Wait! It was light, midday when they came up. What, in the hell, happened? Sam, where is he!
“Sam, Sam where are you!”
“Right here Cait.” His hand landing on her arm is the most comforting thing ever. She puts her own hand on his arm and pulls herself over to him. He enfolds her in his arms. “We are okay.” He tries to reassure himself as much as her.
“Are we?” She looks about as she holds tight to him. “It was a bright sunny day now it is dark and raining. In the space if minutes. How?”
“Minutes, hours, or days? I don’t know what that was Cait but we need away from the stones before we figure it out.” That she fully agrees with. They hurry away, holding tight to each other. It isn’t until the hill is meters behind them that they realize something is very wrong.
“Is this some sort of joke?” Cait looks around at the forest where the road should be.
“An elaborate one if so.” He feels on the verge of shock. It is only the need to see to her, to keep her safe, that keeps him from fully freaking. They are not in their Scotland. Where have the stones taken them?
“We have… oh f*ck Sam!”
“Deep breath. Now another. Let’s try to get out of the rain. Then we can think. “
They find a downed tree that offers a bit of shelter. He helps her under it before joining her. “When are we Sam?”
“I don’t know.” He holds her close as the rain beats down around them.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 29/?
Fandom: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Characters: Claire Beauchamp, Jamie Fraser, Fergus Fraser, Jenny Murray, Ian Murray, Sandy Travers, Frank Randall, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, Ned Gowan
Additional Tags: Berlin, The Frasers in Prussia, Germany
Summary:
“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange
Chapter two is up!!! I started writing this all last night, and didn’t want to leave that chapter handing! I have the outline for this story all done and I’m actually pretty psyched about how it’s lining up. I want to take a minute to thank you all for all the kinds words and support yesterday, you’re the best and know how to make a girl feel welcome! Without further ado... Chapter two!
Read on AO3
Later that night, Beacon Hill, Boston, 21st Amendment Pub
“Claire! Over here!” Geillis was sitting at a high top table and stood up on the crossbar of the barstool to wave her over. As she stood up tall with an arm waving over her head, Claire noticed the two men sitting with her glance at her exposed midriff. One oggled her openly, while one looked appreciatively, and smiled down into his beer glass as he took a long drink. This must be Angus and Rupert, then. Claire smiled and wound through the crowd to the table.
“Awright lads, this is my best girl Claire!” Geillis had clearly been here before her eight o’clock sharp deadline, judging by the way her Scots accent had thickened up.
“Nice to meet you boys! Let me grab a drink and we can get to know each other!” Claire wove her way to the bar, ordered a few fingers of Laphroig whisky, and made her way back to the table. The 21st Amendment was the perfect watering hole for locals looking to enjoy a few bar snacks, and a lot of drinks. It had started to become a staple for their end-of-week blow offs between her and Geillis after a long week at the greenhouse. When he wasn’t stuck at the hospital, Joe often came out to join them, and tonight he had arrived in her absence and took her under his shoulder.
“I need to see you more than once a week! And now you’ve made it so I can only see you if I come to a karaoke bar?! What kind of joke is this, LJ?”
“Blame our favorite redhead for this ingenious evening!” Claire jerked her head in Geillis direction. They laughed and hugged each other tight, and began to settle in for the evening.
Aided by more than a few drinks, the four soon became fast friends. Claire came back from the bar for the third time to see Joe clearly entranced by the three Scots and their innate ability to make any story the best you’ve ever heard.
“So there I am in bed, Chrissie on my left and Nettie, the butcher’s daughter, on the right. They get jealous of each other, start arguin’ about who I’m gonna swive first. Can ye believe it?” Rupert laughed through his oncoming hiccups; whether they was the result of the raucous laughter or the many pints of ale was anyone’s guess.
“And then what happened, man?!” Joe leaned forward over the table toward Angus, and Angus leaned in towards Joe, slapping his hands on the table. Rupert opened his mouth to respond but before he could get out a single word, Claire quipped in.
“I believe your left hand gets jealous of your right. That’s about all I believe!”
For as loud as the pub had become, the little table surrounded with friends fell into an uncertain silence. Claire wondered if she could fit her other foot in her mouth, in addition to the one that was already there. Then… uproarious laughter.
“I’ve… I’ve never heard a woman make a joke like that before!” Ruper was cackling now. “Christ, woman! Yer somethin’ else!” Angus was doubled over clutching his side, Joe choked on his drink, and Geillis was practically dissolving into laughter. Another voice, a different voice, came floating to her ear from behind on a warm whisper.
“Yer a witty one, aye?”
Claire spun around in her barstool, which was admittedly a mistake. Maybe one too many whiskeys, Beauchamp. She started to slide off the side backless chair when two hands steadied her by the waist. Once she -- and the room -- stopped spinning and came into focus, all she could see was ocean blue eyes. If her eyes were the color of her favorite burning whisky, his were the color of a cooling chaser.
“Ye alright, lass?” The stranger smirked. She realized she was still holding on to his shoulders, and still staring into his eyes. She felt the muscles under his white v-neck shirt. His very tight shirt, she amended. His hair sparkled with all the same colors as the dark red trees lining the old brick streets outside -- shades of russet and gold, dark auburn and cinnabar. High cheekbones gave way to slanted eyes above and a jawline to cut her glass tumbler below. Pull yourself together. He’s just a man, and one you don’t even know!
“Oh, yeah, thanks, I’m fine, thank you,” she stammered as she climbed back on her chair, his hands never wavering from her hips. Why did she sound so formal? “I mean, I’m great!” She flashed him a big smile and then a thumbs-up. What the fuck is your problem?! Maybe find a middle ground? She sighed on a giggle as her eyes fell to the floor and looked up at him with crinkling eyes. “I’m -- ugh. Hi there, I’m Claire.” His smirk grew, his eyebrow rose. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t die just then,” she added hastily. He was watching her when she dared to glance up from under her lashes.
The stranger waited until she was settled back on the barstool and went to extend his hand for a handshake, only to find his hands were otherwise occupied. He left them where they were, and settled in a little deeper.
“Och, it’d be a right shame to lose ye to a swivelin’ stool and a dirty pub floor.” The smirk turned into an honest smile. “I’m James. Ye can call me Jamie, if ye like.” He glanced at his hands, one still on her hip and the other traveling up to her waist. Claire felt his thumb stroke her sides and glanced down to watch him unravel her with his touch. Who the hell was this guy? Ordinarily, she’d be offended by some guy holding onto her in a bar, but right now, she found herself hoping this one didn’t let go. She was still watching him trace his small circle on her waist when the hand on her hip reluctantly pulled away, while the one on her waist didn’t move at all. She glanced up to see a pink bloom appear in the tips of his ears and the triangle of chest visible through the dip in his shirt. It was her turn to smirk.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Sassenach. Got a wee bit distracted.” He shoved his free hand in the pockets of his worn jeans.
“Sassenach--?” Suddenly she was cut off, by a loud voice behind them.
“Jamie! Ye made it!” Jamie’s large hand pulled away from Claire’s side with a jolt and the absence made her shiver. Rupert and Angus were already making the introductions to their small table. The hellos and drink orders began and conversation between the group began again. Her head was dizzy, but not from the alcohol. She glanced up to see him eyeing her from over the top of his rocks glass, and her stomach flipped. Pull yourself together. Concentrating on the situation, she gathered that Jamie worked with Angus and Rupert at a small shop in the area, but missed the kind of work they did.
With the addition of Jamie at their table, Geillis suggested they move to one of the booths lining the bar walls. The men blazed a trail forward through the crowd to secure seats, and Claire held Geillis back by the elbow.
“I thought you said you only invited Rupert and Angus out tonight?”
“I did! They asked if they could invite the third member o’ their party, and who am I to say no! Why, is something wrong?”
Evidently no one else had seen her near fall, and Jamie’s rescue of her. “No, it’s fine, I just didn’t realize we’d have such a big group is all.” Geillis started to ask her another question but Claire nudged her friend forward. “Come on, they won’t hold seats for us forever!”
Claire was the last to get to the table. Her step faltered for only a moment -- when the only open spot was next to Jamie.
“I can move, if ye’d be more comfortable --”
“Do you mind if I sit here --?”
They spoke over each other quickly, and simply nodded in answer to each other’s questions. Jamie move down the bench as much as he could with Angus animatedly telling a story on the other side, and Claire filled in the vacant spot on the open end of the booth. It should have been awkward, being strangers forced into tight quarters… but she could’ve sworn he relaxed into side.
Not a minute into settling down, the DJ at the front of the bar announced, “Next up we Claire, Geillis, and Joe!”
Momentarily forgetting why they came here, the three friends jumped up from their seats and headed to the makeshift stage with two spotlights, a few microphones, and a small television screen. The men left at the booth watched them with confusion and excitement as they made their way up to the front, and ready for the show from their newfound friends.
Claire, Geillis, and Joe each took a microphone and began to sing -- if one could really call it that. By the end of Like A Prayer, they were yelling the lyrics, howling with laughter, falling over each other with every repetition of “Just like a prayer, you know I’ll take you there!” The pub clapped and cheered, as a drunk bar on karaoke night often does, and the three friends made their way back to the booth still trying to get enough air back in their lungs after the ceaseless laughter.
“I didna know ye could sing!” Rupert hugged Geillis into his side and Angus leaned over the tabletop to playfully punch Joe in the shoulder.
“I think he means that we didna know ye were the type who can’t sing, but still goes to karaoke anyway!” Angus winked at Geillis, and she couldn’t seem to get her giggles under control.
“Hey now! Joe and I might not be stars or anything, but at least we’re fun -- unlike ye three, who haven’t gone up once!” Taking a gulp from her pint glass, she narrowed in on Claire. “Besides, we sound okay because someone can actually sing when she wants.” The table’s attention immediately moved to Claire with a bombardment of questions.
“Ye can sing, lass?!”
“Go on, get up there and sing for me! Make it a bonny one!”
“Are ye a pop singer or a rock singer? I’ll have a different opinion of ye depending on the answer, ken?”
Then, another warm whisper. A hand on her knee.
“Ye don’t strike me as a singer, Sasssenach.”
Claire turned to face him then, her voice equally quiet when his eyes met hers. “And what do I strike you as?”
“A lass who struggles with her balance, for one,” he replied, “and who’s bad with awkward introductions and saying thank you, for two.” His eyes never left hers, but the crinkles on the edges only deepened with his smirk. Claire scoffed and protested, moving her leg away from his under the table, but his grasp tightened imperceptibly and his thumb was stroking the inside of her knee. “Maybe one day I won’t have to save ye from falling, and I’ll get to hear ye sing a little better than what I just saw.” Taking a swig from his glass, he continued to watch her. Claire started to object to his ideas of her, but Jamie’s attention was called away by Joe asking questions about his work.
An hour passed by with many more drinks and much more laughter, with plans to meet up again next week. Joe left the party first to get back to his apartment to prepare for work the next day, followed by Rupert who claimed he needed to be up early to go into the shop. Soon it was just Angus and Geillis, who were most definitely going home together, and Claire and Jamie, who were most definitely not.
“So what is it you actually do? I’ve been sitting next to you for a few hours now without a single notion of who you are besides your name.” They were sitting facing each other as best they could, trading stories and getting to know one another while Geillis and Angus got almost too close for decency.
“Och, it’s no’ much. I opened a little bookstore in the area a few years back, and Angus and Rupert are my employees. More than that, I suppose, since I’ve known them my whole life. The bookstore was more a passion project a few years back, ken? Then one day, I decided I loved it more than engineering and left it all behind to give my all to the books.” Jamie’s eyes sparkled with mention of the bookstore, and Claire wanted to see him look like that forever.
“What kind of stock do you have?”
Jamie’s eyes positively twinkled. “Lots of antiques and first editions. I learned how to repair and restore old books when I was in college in Edinburgh. We carry the Times best seller list and lots of newer titles as well, but there’s nothing I love like an old book.” He smiled at her, and she melted. “Actually, there’s a favorite of mine--”
“Claire, get on up here!” The voice from the front boomed again, and she sent Jamie a wink as she scooted out of the booth. He stared at her dumbstruck, but released his hold on her leg.
“Since you said my last song was horrible,” she teased over her shoulder as she walked to the front.
He gave a hearty laugh and yelled to her, “I never said it was horrible! I said it wasn’t good!”
Claire had been coming to this pub for years now with Geillis and Joe for drinks and karaoke night. She was on a first-name basis with the regular DJs, and everyone knew her regular songs. Tonight was different. Tonight, she had met Jamie. She whispered to the DJ, walked on stage, and pulled out the piano bench. In the time it had taken Claire to move up front, Jamie followed suit just behind her to a table at the front. He had noticed the piano of course, but paid it no attention. Who would play a piano in a pub on karaoke night?
Claire would, evidently. She sat down, rolled her head a few times along her shoulders, and looked toward their booth. Jamie saw her fear when he wasn’t where she thought he’d be. He gave her a small wave, hoping the motion would draw her attention. She noticed, and flashed him the most brilliant smile he’d ever seen. She took a deep breath, and without playing, began to sing.
“Grab me by my ankles, I’ve been flying for too long; I couldn’t hide from the thunder in a sky full of song. I want you so badly but you could be anyone; I couldn't hide from the thunder in a sky full of song. Hold me down, I’m so tired now; Aim your arrow at the sky. Take me down, I’m too tired now, leave me where I lie.”
The accompaniment was simple and melodic, Claire’s voice strong and dark. Jamie watched her play, the lyrics not lost on him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything but watch her. His chin rested on his hand, his elbow propped on the table. In that moment, he wished the night would never end but if it had to, then may he have many more with the enchanting woman before him.
Jamie didn’t realize she had stopped playing until the crowd began to cheer -- the only thing to exist for him, was her. She stood, pushed in the bench, and put the microphone stand back where it belonged like she had just done the most normal thing in the world. She walked toward him, slowing the closer she got to him.
“Jamie, you haven’t moved once.” One step closer. “Well, you’d bloody well say something.” She folded her hands across her chest with a sigh, eyes downcast at the sticky floor.
He blinked, stood, and brought a hand up to brush away a particularly unruly curl. A thumb caressed rosy apples, dark eyelids fluttered up to meet glittering oceans.
“Christ, Claire. Yer the most incredible woman I’ve ever seen.”
