scottish night

A quick guide to Shakespearean men

Hamlet, the little emo shit

King Lear, the big emo shit

Romeo, the hormonal emo shit

Puck, just a little shit tbh

Macbeth, the Scottish emo shit

Henry V, the frat boy emo shit

Brutus, the honorable emo shit

Othello, the poc emo shit

Richard II, the greedy emo shit

Don Jon, the illegitimate emo shit

Wee Shadow.

A wee one shot of Jamie and Claire fluff + Jem and Mandy because why not? :) xx

With Bree and Roger both sick, Jem and Mandy had been dispatched to stay with their grandparents. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, particularly Jem, who was all but glued to his beloved Grandda’s side from the moment he entered the house.

“You’re sure you don’t feel at all unwell?”

“No Grannie. I feel fine.”

“I heard you coughing outside.”

“I just kicked up some dust running back to the house. Ye did tell me to hurry…”

The note of accusation was distinct and not lost on Claire who had plenty experience with the Fraser capability for Machiavellian tenacity and was not fazed in the least.

“I did, but only because it is freezing out there and the last thing I need is another flu patient.”

She smiled as Jem narrowly resisted the urge to roll his eyes and pressed her hand to his forehead. Warm, but then he always was, just like Bree and Jamie, Jem seemed to have a natural furnace.

“You haven’t got a headache or a sore throat?”

Claire stepped back and put her hands on her hips surveying her grandson who was now fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot with impatience.

“No Grannie, I promise.”

There was a tap on the door and Jamie’s head popped into view. Jem gave him a discreetly pleading look, hoping for saviour as Claire began prodding at his throat again, feeling for swollen glands.  Jamie clucked his tongue sympathetically and stepped into the room, ducking slightly as he passed under bunches of drying herbs hanging from the rafters.

“Sassenach, I promise if he keels over I’ll call ye immediately.”

Jamie smiled, sliding himself between them. Claire frowned as she looked up at her husband.

“You shouldn’t be in here! If Jem is incubating the virus …”

“Then I may have it from last night when he arrived or from eating breakfast beside him this morning or possibly from picking up his stockings from the parlour floor, which I mean to enquire about presently anyway.”

“Sorry Grandda, I forgot to take them upstairs wi’ me…”

Jamie turned and gave Jem a level look down the length of his nose and a slow blink that passed for a wink.

“Aye weel, I’ve left them on the stair and ye may take them up to ye room and fold them properly away in your dresser. Now if ye please.”

Jamie’s tone was stern but there was a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and Jem realised that far from scolding him, his Grandda was in fact offering him an escape from the surgery.

“Aye Grandda.”

“But …”

Claire began at the same time as Jamie jerked his chin in the direction of the door. Jem took the opportunity and scarpered, dodging around the far side of his Grannie’s work bench to avoid any further prodding

“Thank ye Grannie, I’ll let ye ken if I feel a bit poorly.”

He called and shut the door firmly behind him.

Claire blinked at the door for a moment and then sighed in defeat.

“Dinna take it hard Sassenach, there are many men who would long for your ministrations. Myself for one.”

Jamie grinned but Claire poked an accusing finger at his chest before pointing at the bench.

“Fine, then sit. And don’t think for a second I believe that you care where a pair of stockings are left.”

Jamie obligingly settled himself on the bench and loosened his stock, exposing the pale skin of his throat, adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Actually I do.”

Jamie squirmed as Claire’s fingers, deliberately chilly, felt for signs of swelling beneath his jaw

“No’ enough to make a fuss but the lad is old enough to put his clothes away wi’ out reminding.”

“I think he does normally,”

Claire murmured absent-mindedly, pausing to run her fingers over a certain area again, distinguishing between the rasp of red-gold stubble beneath her fingers and the sign of illness she challenged to be there.

“He probably dumped them because he heard you come into the house. Yon wee shadow.”

Claire smiled, gently mimicking the way Jenny had put it when she had seen the two red-heads together. Jamie retied his stock and ducked his head, trying not to appear too pleased to hear Jem referred to as such.

Claire made as if to inspect his ears and Jamie caught her hand deftly, turning her to be seated on his lap.

“That’s enough o’ that. I’m healthy as I ever have been and have ye to thank for it Sassenach. Stop prodding me, eh? Or at least prod in more satisfying places.”

“And wear exactly should I be prodding, hmmm?”

Claire leant forward, her fingers still encased in Jamie’s large palm, and ran her teeth along the edge of his jaw, gently nipping his chin. Jamie made a sound, not dissimilar to that of a bull readying for the charge and his thighs tightened beneath her.

“Have I just found a new erogenous zone Mr Fraser?”

“I wouldna say that … though I do find your teeth on me a wee bit stirring…”

Jamie’s breath came up short as Claire’s tongue dipped beneath the knot of his stock and traced the faint blue line of a vein, her teeth barely touching him this time.

“But it reminds me … it reminds … Christ!”

Jamie lifted her from his body and stood in the same fluid motion, bending to kiss his wife as thoroughly as he wished to before straightening to his full height, neck safely out of her reach as a sprig of drying thyme tickled his ear.

“You were saying?”

“I was trying to say,”

Jamie smiled wryly,

“That having ye on my lap as ye were just then, distracted and more interested in the medical state o’ my body than anything besides, it reminded me of the first night we met.”

“And that is a pleasant memory is it?”

Claire teased trying to keep her tone light, thinking back to that cold and violent Scottish night and narrowly avoiding a shudder.

“Weel, the meeting of ye is a pleasant memory aye but … I was terrified if truth be told and had ye not come along when ye did …”

“Dragged by Murtagh…”

Jamie waved this off as if her virtual kidnap was neither here nor there and continued

“I dinna ken that I would have made it through the night.”

“It wasn’t a fatal wound!”

Claire laughed, thinking of the bayonet wound on his torso and the way the blood had soaked into his shirt, so startling against the white linen and how it was the sight of this that finally jolted her into awareness of her new reality.

“No,”

Jamie smiled

“It wasna a fatal wound but I was so verra scared, Sassenach. I thought my arm likely broken and although Murtagh was wi’ me, I kent well enough that had Dougal seen opportunity for it, he’d do away wi’ the both of us. So there I was, unable to defend myself, unable to protect my kinsman and just waiting for a dirk to slip betwixt my ribs and fearful that I might die wi’out ever goin’ home and then … then you were there.”

Claire listened to the soft lilt of his voice, the gentle dip in resonance that accompanied his thought of her and the lifting smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes and realised that she was once again on his lap on the bench, although she had no memory of moving.

“Ye centred me from the verra first moment I saw ye. Gave me a pretty face to focus on and a neutral party to speak to; ye made me remember that I was more than just a wanted man and unwanted guest.”

Jamie stroked his index finger down her jaw, lightly pinching her chin between his thumb and finger as if holding a delicate glass ornament up to the light for inspection.

“Ye saved me and didna even ken it, wouldna ha’ cared if I told ye either, fierce wee thing ye were.”

Jamie grinned and gently leant forward, this time meeting Claire’s lips as she reached for him, soft and familiar and warm.

“I would never have known you were scared. You seemed so brave to me. Foolish, but brave.”

“And so I was!”

Jamie smiled as the breath of their laughter mingled.

“Ye have always given so verra much mo nighean donn, ye gave me courage, then love, then family… ye ha’ given me all the verra best parts of my life.”

“As have you. Jamie I …”

“GRANNIE! JEM’S COUGHING AGAIN!”

The surgery door burst open and Mandy, grasping Esmerelda under one arm, stood in a riotous cloud of curls and determination.

“He’s coughing! We have to give him medicine!”

Mandy said firmly, heedless of the moment she had interrupted

“Alright love, lead the way.”

Claire smiled, holding out a hand to her grand-daughter.

“Yon wee shadow, was it?”

Jamie called after them, smiling to himself at the answering chuckle that echoed back to him.