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“Somebody call for a doctor? What’s the efurrgency?”

Fanfiction - Daisies & Thistles (College AU)

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Daisies & Thistles

“Do ye need help?” Jamie tentatively touched the closed door. “Why is it taking sae long?”

“No!” Claire’s irritated voice sounded from the inside of the bathroom. “Why don’t you try to pee on a stick to see how easy it is?”

He snorted, a timid smile dawning on his mouth, amidst all the nervous tension.

“It would probably be a lot easier.” He replied. “I can aim.”

“Alright.” She opened the door and sighed, folding her arms. “It’s done. Now we wait.”

“Come here.” Jamie asked, opening his arms. She obediently walked to meet him and her breath caught in her throat as soon as she felt his arms embracing her, strong and supportive. “I love ye, mo nighean donn. I’m here – no matter what happens.”

“I know.” She whispered against his collarbone. “Just a couple of minutes longer. So, what’s up with you and Tom Christie?”

“Ach.” Jamie rubbed her back, feeling her starting to relax. “We went to school together back in Scotland, in Broch Mordha. He isna a highlander – born and raised in Edinburgh, I believe – but went to live there when we were teens.”

“He seems to have some kind of feud with you.” Claire said slowly, tucking her hands on the waistband of his jeans. “What did you do to make him hate you so much?”

“Why do ye think it’s my fault?” Jamie raised a brow and asked, outraged. “Why canna be his doing?”

Claire’s body shook with supressed laughter. “I love you, James Fraser. But you are trouble.”

“Alright.” He sighed, pinching her buttock in retaliation. “Wee Tom wanted to be Head Boy – dreamt of leading the school and being looked up to. But the headmistress chose me to represent the school in such capacity and he was verra angry. It didn’t help that I was a much better rugby player than him, or that the lasses…erm…fancied me.”

“Tom wanted to be prom queen and you stole his crown.” Claire clicked her tongue. “Boys. And people say girls are vindictive.”

“There’s more.” Jamie said haltingly. “We got into a fight – and because there were witnesses who saw that I only defended myself, Tom ended being expelled from the school.”

“Ah.” Claire withdrew slightly to look into his eyes. “That’s quite ancient history though – he might have changed. Maybe we can hope for the best and meanwhile…you’ll be careful?”

“Aye.” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “I wouldna dare to tell ye what to do, Sassenach – I learn from my mistakes, believe it or not – but I’ll advise ye to stay away from the man. I’m concerned that he might hurt ye somehow, or come close to ye just to punish me in some way.”

She looked into his eyes and saw real fear there – and slowly exhaled and nodded.

“Alright.” She kissed his lips, slightly cold. “I think it’s time.” Claire gently let go of him and walked to the washbasin, where she had left the daunting item, looking like a weird thermometer. She quickly grabbed it without looking into it and closed her fist around it.

“Well, how does it work?” Jamie asked in a somewhat strangled voice. “How do ye know the result?”

“Two stripes means it’s positive.” Claire bit her full bottom lip, her hand nervously waving, the test still secluded between her fingers. “That I’m pregnant.”

“Do ye want me to see it?” He proposed softly. “Or we can do it together.”

“I think…” She brushed her stubborn curls, falling in a cascade around her shoulders, looking utterly lost. “Will you hold me while I look?”

“Always.” He smiled and came behind her, his strong arms folding around her waist. He was slightly bent to better fit her body – his jaw resting on her graceful shoulder. She went almost boneless, breathing deeply and surrendering to his calm centre – her head leaned back, searching for the hollow of his chest where it fitted perfectly. He kissed the top of her head, encouraging her – and slowly his fingers entwined with hers, offering her his strength, until she reluctantly opened them.

For a moment they only listened to the distant voices outside, students going out to grab some dinner, friends returning from long walks in the park, a couple trading harsh words bellow the dorm’s window – unintelligible, but quick and angry, like a hive of bees commanding an attack. The world was all around them, still happening in its own pace, heedless of the defining moment they were living.

Claire suddenly recalled with vividness a time of her life in Southern Europe – her uncle had been doing some excavations on Roman occupation in Lusitania – and the field of daisies that grew behind their accommodations. She used to go there at sundown – her young fingers plucking white petals from the divinatory flower, chanting “He loves me…He loves me not…”. Back then there wasn’t even a love interest – but she found it amusing and comforting that life could be settled so easily, by the willpower of a single flower. This was eerily similar – only this time the flower had been replaced by a white pharmacy test and she already knew she was loved.

“One stripe.” Jamie whispered in her ear. “That means ye’re are not pregnant. Aye?”

“Yes.” She answered in a low voice. “I’m not pregnant.” Claire didn’t know what she was feeling – there was relief there to be sure, but also a pain she hadn’t been expecting. She turned to face Jamie.

He was serene, his face a mask of stilled waters – but for the briefest of moments, when she had turned, she had seen it – the loss.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. Please?” She added in a murmur, her thumb tracing the curve of his high cheek, until it reached the edge of his long and straight nose. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I ken it wasna the right time, Claire – how hard it would be for the both of us.” Jamie smiled shyly. “But the idea of a child – yer child – grew on me today. So much so I began to think I was going to burst from it – from being so full and so complete.”

“Are you disappointed then?” She searched his eyes, blue and limpid, stormless like a merciful sea. “Do you wanted it to be real?”

“Part of me did.” Jamie admitted in a hoarse voice. “I was watching you in the field today – imagining yer belly round and swollen with our bairn – and I almost lost it. I wanted to take ye to my bed and make ye scream and cradle ye inside my hands afterwards. I craved to kiss ye, until yer lips were bruised and swollen from it, so everybody could see; and to tell ye all the poems I know by heart. It was so powerful, Claire. It made me afraid, because I wasna aware of that part of me.”

“I saw it too.” Claire whispered, her heart thundering inside her chest. “You and our child together – a family of my own. I was afraid, but then I was…hopeful.”

“You will be the mother of my children, Sassenach.” His hands travelled along her arms, until they reached her waist and her flat stomach. “I shall see ye so, when the time is right.”

“So…we wait?” Claire asked softly.

“We wait.” Jamie nodded, smiling as he watched her lips already parting to receive his kiss. “And maybe I can practice the part of making ye scream just now.”

****

“I have something for ye.” He said tenderly, kissing her temple. She nuzzled his shoulder and turned her face to look at him, glaring at her with love in his eyes.

They were sitting by the same fountain where they had talked the first night – the glorious day they assumed their feelings, discovering they were entirely reciprocated.

“Do you?” She asked, curious, in a hoarse voice. They had made love, urgently and passionately, on the floor of the bathroom, barely restraining enough to rid themselves of clothes. He had made her scream – repeatedly – and she had clawed his back with her nails, temporarily tattooing him with the echoes of her release. They were barely composed when Ian had entered the dorm, looking embarrassed and mortified – his blushing enhanced by Claire’s tousled hair and the bruises on Jamie’s neck. “What is it?”

“Give me yer hand.” He asked, reaching out with his own palm. She diligently complied.

He traced the lines on her palm with his fingertips, exquisitely soft as the brush of a painter, awakening the butterflies in her belly. He stopped when he reached her Venus Mount and, bending over his head, lightly bit her there with his teeth, making her gasp. She then felt something cold on her finger and saw that he had placed a silver ring there.

“It’s not much, mo ghraidh. But if my love for ye is endless, my words are not. I wish I could tell ye, again and again, that ye are my life – each time with a new word, made only for ye. Perhaps this ring can tell ye how I love ye, when I fail to do so.”

“Jamie…” She whispered. It was a thin band, with intricate thistle blooms carved at the centre of each link. It was her in a way that nothing else was – not the clothes she chose herself, not the books she read all her life, not the reflection she saw on the mirror. Jamie had looked into her soul – and understanding and cherishing the fact that something of them both now lived there – had turned their essence into something she could wear everyday. “It’s perfect.”

“Will ye wear it, Claire?” He asked, his voice hopeful and warm as a summer morning. She knew what he meant. The ring was not a proposal – not yet, anyway – but was a promise and a vow between them.

“Yes.” Claire kissed the ring, feeling the metal reassuringly cold and real against her lips. “As long as we both shall live.”