Castiel’s palms are sweating so profusely, he’s ninety-five percent sure he’s going to sweat through his mittens and the wrapped gifts they’re clutching. He watches with wide eyes and a racing heart as Dean rings the doorbell and walks inside, tugging him along by his coat sleeve.
@atrociouscreations asked for something like, if Percy accepted being a God at the end of the PJO series. And Idk why, but this was the first thing that popped into my head and I had to draw yet. I read awhile ago some headcannons for a dark Percy god, and oh was it so good, that I think some of that was what inspired this…
“Hush, Sassenach.” Jamie urged her, mischief in
his eyes. “The fairies dinna care for loud people.”
“Really?” She smiled, amused. “They inhabit the
wrong country, then. Scottish people aren’t exactly
the serene and quiet type. Any more useful tips for avoiding to displease the
“They don’t like whistling or crossed fingers.”
Claire could hear the smile on his voice, even if he had his back turned to her,
working his way up the rocky and muddy ground. “Or cursing.”
“Oh, fuck! I’m doomed!” Claire laughed, covering
her mouth in self-reproach. “They don’t sound that much fun, if you ask me. Are
we almost there?”
“Aye.” He answered and his voice was carried by
the wind across the green hills, as if hidden crowds were there to repeat his
words in a ghostly choir. “Are ye tired?”
“I know you are half mountain goat, but I might
be persuaded to rest a little after this.” She admitted, almost breathless.
Jamie had prepared for them a weekend away from
Broch Mordha, that so far had included climbing the Old Man of Storr – a strenuous
ascend that left her feeling a sharp pain on her side, but well compensated by
a magnificent view with a double rainbow to boot -; sightseeing in Staffin; and
– as the hours of sunset quickly approached – a detour to the Fairy Glen. They
were in the middle of the climb to the Fairy Castle and Claire was forced to
divide her attentions between the marvellous sight – the sky painted by a
talented hand in purple, pink and blue – and the attention necessary to avoid
falling and breaking a leg.
They had been dating for a month – the happiest
days she recalled in her entire life. She was busy working during the days –
but most nights they would get together. Jamie had a gift to make every occasion
special – may it be a homely cooked dinner (even the slightly burned bits, when
they were distracted by each other’s lips and forgot to time the oven, tasted
like haute cuisine), a walk in the
woods or swimming in the hidden lakes. He was funny and tender – and a true
gentleman. Claire smiled, recalling the way he had made sure she was alright during
the entire day, adjusting his pace by hers, stopping regularly to allegedly
admire some plants or take a picture - only so she could rest a couple of
minutes without feeling weak.
As they came closer to the structure resembling
a miniature castle, a narrow passage made of slippery stones stood between the
hill and the opening – as if the fairy queen had lowered the bridge to welcome
them to her realm, should they be brave enough to attempt the crossing.
“Alright.” Claire murmured between her teeth. “Am
I really supposed to do this without cursing?”
Jamie looked back and held out his hand in
support, grinning to her. Together they made the daunting crossing, being
rewarded with an exquisite view once they reached the top.
“It is breath-taking, isn’t it?” Claire gasped,
still holding Jamie’s hand, their fingers entwined.
“Aye.” He answered in a hoarse voice – but his blazing
eyes were focused on her face and not on the hills bellow them. “It is.” His
mouth enveloped hers then, his tongue tasting the playful words she had been
about to say – passionate, knowing and sure.
Later that day, tired from the day’s exertions
and cradled by the moving car, feeling secure and at peace with Jamie driving –
tunelessly humming along with the song on the radio - Claire allowed herself to
close her eyes until she reached that peculiar state – brushing her bodiless
fingertips on the edge of oblivion, dreaming knowing she was dreaming, unconsciousness
still subtly penetrated by the sounds around her.
“I love you, mo nighean donn. You are my forever, Claire.” Jamie whispered softly, thinking her asleep – and
her arriving dreams knew the undeniable truth of his words.
Edinburgh, Present day
Jamie had been moved to a room while he waited
for an OR vacancy. The A&E staff was still working untiringly to try to
save as many critical patients as possible, victims of collapsing beams and
smoke inhalation, and Jamie’s condition – in spite of painful – was stable
enough for the time being, allowing him to wait a few more hours. Claire had
supervised his transfer, making sure his vitals were tightly monitored.
“Will ye stay with me?” He asked slowly, when
the orderly and nurse left them alone. “I’ve never had surgery – I’m a wee bit
scared, I’ll admit to it.”
“There was a time when you had the right to ask
me that.” Claire answered haltingly, avoiding his gaze as she pretended to
examine the collector bag. “But you don’t – not anymore. You lost it a long
“I ken I’ve done ye wrong, Claire.” Jamie
licked his chapped lips. “But everything I did was…”
“Don’t you dare say it!” Claire almost shouted,
her fists closing until she felt her nails digging into her palms – pain was reassuringly
present, a life raft she could hold on to. “Don’t you fucking dare say it! You
broke my heart, James Fraser. You made me love you and then you broke me.”
“Do ye hate me for it?” He closed his eyes and
asked softly, pain choking his voice. “It’s well within yer right to do so –
and still, you could never hate me as much as I hate myself.”
“I’d hate you if I was to feel anything at all.”
Claire’s hands remained still on each side of her body, like forgotten parts of
her that she used to cherish, now ripped away from her grasp. “But I don’t. At
last I’m numb – at last you can’t hurt me anymore.”
Liar. He can still hurt you – just be being here, looking at you like he once
did. Saying words that used to meant other worlds, other lives. As we were.
“I just wish to know that ye are well.” Jamie
turned his head and glared at her – there was sadness in his eyes, but also
resolve. “That you are happy.”
“And do you want to know that for my sake?” She laughed – a brief and acid
sound, which sounded like a wail from a shrinking heart. “Or so you can be at
peace with your conscience?”
“I want to know…” Jamie swallowed hard, his
face shockingly white against the linen of the bed. “Because I promised to make
ye joyous once. I vowed to fill yer life with laughter – and it would ease my heart
to know you happy, even without me having a part in it.”
Sometimes in the
morning, before I’m completely awake, I forget that you aren’t there. I erase
years without you – and for that small moment, I know what happiness is.
“I’m happy.” Claire croaked – even if her face
hurt from straining, the salty taste of tears filled the back of her mouth and
her voice was a distant echo of elation. “I moved on. Unlike you, I keep me
Claire sat in inviting obscurity. The darkness
in the small room was only hampered by the constant red and yellow lights of
machines, gently assuring her that his heart kept its usual rhythm - a foreign
concept to her, whose heart skipped and fluttered madly, propelled by memories
and distant words.
Jamie was profoundly asleep, a saving grave
provided by the morphine drip – each droplet a fountain of dreamless sleep, so
much so she craved to drink down the whole vial and travel to a faraway land,
where promises were held and kisses lasted forever.
She had stormed out of the room after their
brutal conversation, pretending not to hear him calling her name. Claire’s
steps had guided her to the on-call room, nodding to people passing by, her
lips wording words of reassurance that she didn’t mean at all. Once there, she had
grabbed the pillow and had screamed against it with abandon, muffling years of
anguish and solitude – but most of all releasing the despair of knowing herself
still an unwilling prisoner of her heart.
When she had composed herself, Claire made her
rounds and settled the orders for the day, even pulling herself together enough
to issue a statement to the media about the injured in the residential fire.
But late in the afternoon, when chaos had given place to a more usual pace of a
healthy hospital, the pull had been irresistible – and she had found herself at
his door again.
“Where have you been hiding, LJ?” Joe startled
her, his head peeking on the door. “Why am I suddenly assigned for a
splenectomy? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s your patient and I can barely feel my feet already.”
“I can’t do this surgery, Joe.” Claire said,
watching as he fully entered the room. “It has to be you.” Her friend raised
his eyebrows in surprise and confusion, padding to the bed until he could read
the chart, dangling from the frame.
“James Fraser.” He articulated slowly and she
watched, half amused, as his mouth dropped open in bewilderment. “The James? Jamie?”
“The man himself.” She nodded, curling her legs
beneath her on the armchair. “In all his redheaded glory.”
“Oh my! It really is a small country.” Joe
shook his head and offered her a concerned look. “I had no idea when I offered
him to you – I hope you know that.”
“I do.” Claire sighed. “I thought this could
happen when we came from Boston – even told myself I was ready. I was so wrong, Joe – seeing him just….disassembled
me. I was so angry – still am.”
“You are angry…” Joe slowly said. “And yet you are sitting here in the shades
watching over him. And you want me to
do his surgery when any resident could have easily done it.”
“You are the best.” She smiled with sadness,
brushing her hand against her eyes. “I can’t be inside that OR, Joe. I can’t be
a doctor for him – it’s not that I couldn’t see you cut him. But if something
goes wrong…” Claire gulped, softly biting the knuckle of her finger in thoughtfulness.
“I can’t think clearly. My place is in the waiting room because I can’t be a
doctor for him right now – not when I’m too busy being a woman.”
“I was there, Lady Jane.” He moved closer to
her and softly touched her shoulder. “I know what it did to you. How hard you
had to fight to pull yourself together. If you were any other woman, you’d be
running the other way the instant you saw him. And yet, here you are.”
“Yes.” She whispered, watching Jamie’s lips
slightly quivering in his sleep. “Here I am.”
“And what does it mean, darling?” Joe pressed
on with tenderness.
“Jamie lied when he told me it was meant to
last forever.” She looked at him, defeat in her eyes. “But I didn’t.”