Great Scot! - An Everlark/Outlander birthday drabble
For the incomparable @ombradellaluna, who celebrates a birthday today. I’m sorry it’s a little late in the day! I tried to fuse your love of Everlark with our mutual obsession for Outlander. Hope you are having a great day and thank you for being such an amazing artist and a good friend!
Thanks to @akai-echo for keeping me straight :).
Modern AU, Rated T (Apologies in advance for any mistakes I may have made with the Scottish slang).
Katniss had barely waited for the door to shut behind her before she’d kicked her shoes off and flung herself down onto the sofa. She’d enduring months of Droughtlander, waiting for any news about the new third season of Outlander until finally, Entertainment Weekly had announced their newest issue, with none other than Jamie Fraser, looking fierce and delectable on the cover. She’d stopped off at the newsstand first thing after work and picked up two copies - one to collect and one to read and post in her office. It was her one and only indulgence - consuming the Outlander series in whichever form she could get it.
That was how Peeta found her when he returned from work, nose deep in the magazine, eyes wide as she read and reread the article. Katniss barely noticed his entrance as she studied the photos, until she felt the sagging weight on the cushion beside her.
“What are you up to?” he asked, peering around to the front cover of the magazine. “Let me guess. Outlander?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, not bothering to look up from her reading. She could see his lopsided grin out of the corner of her eye which, under normal circumstances, would have gotten her to stop in the middle of whatever she was doing to admire him. But these were the first scenes from the battle of Culloden and Katniss couldn’t tear her eyes away from Captain Black Jack Randall locked in fierce battle with Jamie Fraser. She was practically salivating in anticipation of that long-awaited moment.
“I don’t understand it, really,” Peeta said, pulling her out of her reverie as he glanced at the picture of Jamie Fraser, a generous portion of his chest exposed by his torn shirt. “Every time I see him, he looks like he needs a bath.”
Katniss chuckled, turning the page to study another scene. “That’s part of the charm. Most women would volunteer to wash him.”
“I see,” he said, before leaning in towards her. “Och, wifie, kann a mon hae a wee kiss aft a dae a hart work, ye ken?” he said, affecting his most convincing Scottish brogue.
It was an effective ploy. Katniss finally raised her head from the magazine, blushing profusely as she caught the devilish look in his eyes. Her heart gave a small leap because she had to admit, Fraser or no Fraser, she had one helluva handsome husband. And he was here. And real. And largely clean, for the most part. “Ye daft sook,” she whispered, “Come ‘ere.” She pressed her lips against his warm, real ones and kissed him thoroughly, with a heady fervor, leaving them both panting.
“That was nice. I wonder what would happen if I wore a kilt, too?” he asked.
She shook her head, setting the magazine aside and straddling him, squeezing him between her strong, lean thighs. “You don’t need a kilt. Or time travel. Or an accent for that matter.” She slid her hand between them until they were deep in his pants. A low growl rumbled in his throat when she kissed him again. “You’ve got everything you need already.”
“Good to know,” he gasped before pulling her down to kiss her again, running his hands up and down her back. He straightened slowly, forcing her to wind her legs around his hips. And just like that, the image of the great Scot, abandoned where Katniss had left him, disappeared from her thoughts as Peeta carried her to their bedroom.