I had been rudely awakened by a extremely large and heavy Scot rolling across my legs. It was full morning now, and through bleary eyes, I could see him crouched low to the ground, stark naked, his fists raised and his attention fixed on the doorway, through which was drifting—
“Jamie,” I groaned hoarsely, still coming out of sleep. “Its just the phone.” He was breathing heavily and didn’t immediately respond. “It’s a machine that—”
“I ken what a TelePhone is,” Jamie said over his shoulder in a testy fashion that suggested that while that might be true, he hadn’t known that one been the source of the sound. This hypothesis was confirmed when he mumbled, “Didna ken they were kept in houses.”
He straightened, but lost none that look of scenting imminent danger, not taking his eyes from the door for a moment. “Christ, must they be so damnably loud?” he demanded irritably back at me.
“Well, yes! One has to be able to hear them, after all!”
Actually, I probably needed to turn the ringer up even louder, as it hadn’t been loud enough to wake me. James Alexander “warrior-instincts-never-die” Fraser had seen to that.
“Hear them?” He was breathing very heavily, his voice high and full of flustered annoyance. “Ye could hear that thing all the way from Scotl—”
We swiveled our heads in unison toward the diminutive speaker.
Brianna was sitting up on the bed, just at my elbow, and was baring her jack-o-lantern teeth in a hysterical grin as she said again, “Bum.”
I looked from Bree to Jamie’s bare haunches and had to bite my lips, very hard. Jamie, still looking at me over his shoulder, seemed to be having equal difficulty. I could see his shoulder quaking silently, though part of his effort was certainly from keeping still to prevent giving his daughter any more inadvertent anatomy quizzes.
Facing Bree, I tried to keep my voice conversational. “You, erm….do you see a bum, sweetheart?”
She gave me a look that clearly demonstrated pity for my dimness and pointed at the item in question. “Bum Da.”
We exploded. I doubled over and Bree began to cackle, thrilled with herself. Jamie sunk to the ground, his back against the bed, so that his uproarious laughter floated up from the floor.
God, I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had heard him laugh, really laugh. It had to have been long before Culloden, surely, as bleak as those last months of the campaign had been. The sheer joy of hearing it poured fuel on my hilarity, and I was genuinely struggling to catch my breath between bouts of coughing and giggles.
Jamie, too. He hooted and breathed deeply as he got to his knees and turned to rest his arms on the mattress facing us. He gave a huge, final exhale and laid his cheek on the coverlet, putting a hand on my thigh and gripping me. “God, it’s good to laugh wi’ ye, again, Sassenach.”
He looked so young, smiling broadly up at me that way. My lad. I ran my fingers lightly through his hair. I still wasn’t used to having it so short. Or here.
“And as for you, a nighean,” he said, turning to rest his head on his chin, facing our offspring, “looks as though Da’s going to have to be far more careful about where he shows his bum, now, aye?”
“Bumm-umm-aye,” she agreed happily.
I tossed him a blanket, and, once decent, he sat on the edge of the bed, making silly faces across the way at Bree. She couldn’t stop staring at him. Her grin was face-splitting, in fact, and she didn’t look away even as she pushed her little bottom up into the air, took three wobbly steps across the mattress, stumbled, and fell headlong into his waiting arms.
“Good gracious,” I said wonderingly.
I pursed my lips. “Brianna Ellen, lately Beauchamp, is extremely selective about making new acquaintances, and yet she’s taken to you like a duck to water!”
“Duck?” Bree said, ears pricking up.
“I think I ought to feel a bit jealous!” I added, in mock pique.
“Do ye?” Jamie asked, looking distinctly nervous overtop the curly red head. “Feel jealous?”
“No,” I said, laughing, bending forward to kiss his bare shoulder. “Not one bit. It’s…it’s absolutely perfect, Jamie.” He beamed. I did, too, seeing them together, drawn together like magnets.
It was only natural, I supposed, for Jamie to crave contact with her, to look intently at her, to try and absorb all he could of her; but for Bree, who was too young to understand the significance of Jamie’s appearance, what was it that drew her to him? Was it genetics, some common frequency of their blood that attuned her to him? Or, might it simply be novelty? Come to think of it, I didn’t think Brianna had ever really seen a grown man before up close. She’d never met Frank, of course. All of the adults with whom she interacted regularly were women: Mrs Byrd, me, and one or two of my nurse friends from Mercy. Her whole male experience would be a brief glance at Father Gentry at mass or a passerby in the supermarket.
Yes…perhaps the unfamiliarity of the male face was some of it…but there was no way in hell I would suggest such a thing. Let’s just call it ‘love.’It will be soon, in any case, I thought, with a contented pang.
“DUCK!” Bree said again, sounding decidedly annoyed that her contribution to the conversation was being ignored.
“Where’s a duck, mo chridhe?” Jamie asked her seriously.
I laughed. “That’s right, lovie, the ducks are at the park.”
He got to his feet with Bree in his arms, swaying her gently from side to side. “Is it normal for a wee lass of her age to ken so many words?”
I couldn’t help but grin at the bursting pride in his voice. “Oh, I think so. They usually have quite a number of words by eighteen months, and she’s going on twenty. She’s just starting to put them together, now, though.”
Jamie gave his daughter a winning grin. “Well, ye got ‘bum Da’ right enough, ye clever wee thing.” We all giggled again and Bree started up a game of peek-a-boo by “hiding” under her father’s chin and then popping up again seconds later. Jamie played right along, acting absolutely flabbergasted with shock everything time she reappeared, making her go red as their hair with uncontrollable giggles.
Yes, thick. as. thieves, those two, I thought, alight with so much joy it bubbled out into a need to tell him everything. “Her first word was dog. We were walking on the Common, and a golden retriever came up and licked her hand. She cried and fairly screamed it: DOG!! Just like that! Then, the next one was NO when we were trying sliced bananas with breakfast and she was not having it, so she—”
I glanced up to see that Jamie’s face had gone markedly stiff and pale. He was clenching his jaw and looking toward the chest of drawers…trying not to look at me.
“Jamie? What ever is the matter?” Alarmed, I stood and went to his side. So tense was his manner that I half-expected him to turn away, but he pulled me hard against him with his free arm instead. He didn’t speak, but I could feel him swallowing thickly, and see tears forming behind his lashes.
I put my arms around them both, rubbing his back as I looked up at him. “You’ll be here for all the rest, Jamie. All of it.”
“Aye,” he croaked after a few moments, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Aye, and God be praised for it.”
I kissed him on the cheek and heard his stomach rumble. “Hungry?”
He did look thin, now that I surveyed him in the light of day. While still broad in shoulder and sturdy-looking as ever, his cheeks were decidedly gaunt, and I could see the shadow of every single one of his ribs, faintly, but there.
I cleared my throat and blinked back moisture from my eyes at the sight. “Well, I’m still not much of a cook, but I bet I can manage a proper fry-up. Normally its just fruit and toast for us of a morning, but you need to get some meat back on your bones, so it’s bacon and butter until it comes out your ears.”
He bent down and kissed me in thanks, very gently.
As I made my way down the hall toward the kitchen, I heard the sound of a second kiss.
“I’ll always be here, m'annsachd. Its a promise.”
It was absolutely uncanny, the way the soft coo of her response matched Jamie’s tender tone.
Being In A Relationship With Fred And George Weasley Would Involve...
[Disclaimer: this is not an incestuous relationship; this is Fred dating the reader and George dating the reader. It is Fred x Reader; George x Reader, not Fred x Reader x George. This includes no Fred x George.]
Being in a relationship with Fred and George Weasley would involve:
They’d be a lot of inside jokes between the three of you- and you’d make them constantly, especially in front of other people just to confuse them. Their expressions are the best- and the enjoyment that the three of you get out of it is pretty good too.
Others being confused about your relationship and thinking you either dating one of the twins or neither.
Awkwardly explaining that you’re dating both Fred and George. Always getting weird looks from the person you’re explaining your relationship too. Not caring about the responses you get.
Fred and George comforting you and protecting you from the hate of the world.
Pranking with the boys all the time. That’s actually how you met. After the Slytherin Quidditch team (including Malfoy) were mean to you for not being a pure blood supremacist, you pranked the whole of the team, catching the eyes of the twins. They were very impressed, and you hit off straight away.
Skipping classes occasionally with Fred and George, and escaping out of the grounds of Hogwarts during free periods with the help of the Marauders Map.
Saving up for weeks when you know a Hogsmeade weekend is coming, just so you can collectively spend all your money in Zonko’s Joke Shop or Honeydukes. (And, then the three of you go to George’s dorm room and scoff the sweets and plan some of your pranks.)
Both of the boys kissing your cheeks all the time. (Mostly, they kiss your cheeks’ at the same time.)
Cheering them on during Quidditch matches.
For the most part, you just chant ‘Weasley’ because it’s easier than try to alternatively chant Fred and George throughout the whole match.
Enjoying those quiet moments with both boys because life at Hogwarts can be a little frantic, so the peace is rare. And you’re grateful for every second that you get.
In many ways, you’re like a little Stiles- in personality more so than looks, but just like him you’re an avid reader and conspiracy theorist. You love piecing mysteries together- especially if they involve the supernatural.
You’re best friends with Lydia and Allison, and you share everything together. It often annoys Stiles because how did you get Lydia to like you so easily?? He’s been trying for years and nothing! You say hi- and you’re bbfs. Honestly, he doesn’t understand…
Discovering that Scott is a werewolf and being shocked because werewolves are… are a thing now! But, you’re also super excited because supernatural things are real!!! And, your conspiracy theories could be real.
Being part of the pack.
Meeting Isaac and him flirting with you, much to the annoyance and disapproval of your brother. You don’t mind Isaac flirting with you, and often encourage it.
Your dad being so protective over you and your brother, and always telling the both of you to watch out for each other.
Meeting Derek for the first time and asking him loads of questions about werewolves. He doesn’t know if he should be annoyed or not- he does find you endearing, if not a little forward.
Stiles being utterly confused when Derek likes you.
“How do you get people to like you so quickly?? And he has so much trouble?? Like Derek is sourwolf?? And, he’s smiling for you??”
Welcoming Mason and Liam into the pack. Being fond of the boys.
Liam develops a little crush on you, despite Stiles’ very clear instructions to stay away from his sibling.
Finding Liam cute, and him being flustered when he’s around you.
Always knowing what your brother is thinking, even without words. You can communicate a whole -a complete lengthy conversation- is just a few seconds of eye contact and a couple of gestures.
Apart from your dad, your the only one who knows Stiles’ real name. It’s M… Well, it’s a secret.
Being really close with Stiles. Despite the arguments and fights you get into, you do love each other, and you’re always there for each other.