#havin a weird one tonight lads

[aroyams]

heyy friendly reminder that i'm. fucking stupid and if i say something out of turn literally just tell me to shut up lol i will NOT be offended i prommy😭

[smuggsy]

Can I have a "i sleep better in your bed" for flyboys please 🥺

All right, I know those are supposed to be comfort prompts but I didn’t quite get there. Just a helpless pining Collins for you, my friend.

Collins doesn't fall into unhealthy habits. He thinks it must have something to do with him coming from a very small village, born into an even smaller family. An early bird that took care of the farm in the wee hours of the morning when everyone else enjoyed an hour or two of extra sleep.

A fag or two a day? That's alright, it's only common in the ranks; but he's never been one for alcohol. It would serve a purpose, he thinks, as he turns on his bed for the third time that minute.

Maybe if he knocked down a pint or two he'd get a wink of sleep on this godforsaken place. Which is anything but forsaken, of course. Quite the opposite. They've been sent out to an airfield in Croydon and it's beaming with personnel and new recruits being noisy and chipper, the word "inexperienced" written all over their faces.

Collins knows that's about to change, and he turns once again on his bed as that intruding thought downs on him at 2 in the morning. They've been transferred here for a reason and he reckons any day now the Luftwaffe will give those cheerful new lads a reason to finally get in the air and they will soon have no extra energy to burn off, no impromptu football matches to organize, no more bets to make on their card games.

At that, he finally sits up on his bed and weights his chances. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this again. It was just a one-night thing, and he didn't even ask for permission to go and use someone else's bed.

(Although, to be fair, Farrier wasn't there to be asked. If he'd been, he'd have probably kicked him back to his own bed with a gruffly grunt.)

There is no infestation of ants round this side of the room tonight, so tonight he's got no real reason to scoot over to the opposite bed and lay down on it, the same thin and overly-soft army-issued mattress underneath but feeling much more comfortable.

Because it smells like Farrier.

Fuck it. He's always up before anyone else and Farrier won't be here till six.

And he's going to be awful tired for his early flight tomorrow morning if he doesn't get a proper four hours of shut-eye.

Farrier's not here.

What Farrier doesn't know won't hurt him.

So, in the dead of night, with about twenty-five other pilots sound asleep, he tiptoes over and gets under the covers with a sigh, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes shutting close with easiness at the familiar smell.

Collins doesn't really have any unhealthy habits.

But this may just be becoming one.

* * *

He's over by the runway when Farrier meets him at eight. His hair is wet and he looks very clean, and Collins actually hears him approaching before he sees him. That same cadence to his footsteps, careless and easy-going yet firmly getting closer.

"Morning," Farrier says, and Jenkins nods his way. Collins finishes fastening up his lifejacket and turns around to greet him, smell of coffee filling the air.

And also the smell of shampoo.

"'Elo," he says with a smile, avoiding Farrier's intent stare because it feels weird, because he really needs to stop using his bed every night when he can't sleep, because it's a violation of his privacy and it's wrong and it's becoming a thing, "good night?"

"Uneventful," Farrier shrugs and he comes closer to stand next to him with his cup of coffee, his free hand buried deep inside the front pocket of his navy-blue trousers, "you'll have a quiet day as well, I reckon."

"I hope not," Jenkins blurts out, turning around and heading for his own Spitfire at seeing their Squadron Leader hopping up, mumbling something about Jerries and the weather forecast.

Collins turns to Farrier with an awkward smile, feeling immensely inadequate standing next to him and smelling that same scent from up close. That's what his pillowcase smells like.

Stop it.

He clears his throat and checks his lifejacket's in place again, unaware of how twitchy he's behaving. Unaware of Farrier following his every nervous movement with an almost-smirk on his face.

"See ya then," he says in lieu of a goodbye, but when he takes a step forward Farrier catches his arm and stops him from leaving.

Collins turns around with sweat on his brow.

"What's up with you?"

"What? Nothing - stomachache. Milk was sour, I think. Good thing yer havin’ coffee," he rants, gesturing towards the half-empty cup Farrier's holding, ignoring the way his ex wing-mate is frowning at him like he's grown a second head, "I need to go."

Farrier's still got a hold of him and he frowns unapprovingly for a couple more seconds before stepping back. Collins makes a run for the cockpit and keeps his eyes forward until they take off.

They're not even out for sixty minutes before they must head back, storm looming over London and air so wet and hot they all make a beeline for the showers soon as they step back on land.

Collins keeps himself busy. He replies to a letter, he plays some poker, he sits down by Hugh when he picks up his guitar and starts singing away the afternoon.

And one too many times he finds Farrier looking at him from afar.

Just looking. Pondering. Not approaching.

He must know he's avoiding him, Collins thinks, and he feels like an idiot. Like a jittery teenager every time he glances around to find Farrier smiling at something his wingmates say but meeting his gaze immediately when he finds him looking.

The sky falling outside doesn't help a single bit.

There's nowhere to go.

When Farrier approaches him, like he'd been waiting for Jenkins to go away to come and chat, Collins runs a hand over his eyes and nods towards him, tired of the idleness and tired of his very useless infatuation.

Maybe he should stop turning down invitations from pretty birds at the pub and have some fun. Fuck the image of Farrier away from his brain, have his very musky scent erased from his memory and replaced by some soft flowery perfume.

"Alright?" Farrier greets.

Collins answers with a sigh and lights up a fag.

"Fuckin' bored," he says, with the cigarette in between his lips and leaning against the window overlooking the runway. It's immensely dark outside, save for one or two bolts of lightning flashing prettily in the distance.

Farrier lets out a laugh next to him.

"You sound like the boys," he comes round to block Collins' view and his eyes glitter with mischief as he takes a bite of his very red apple, "you should know better. Enjoy a quiet day for once."

He offers him the apple as he chews, and Collins shakes his head and can't help but smile at his air of playfulness, the awkward exchange of looks feeling distant and utterly silly.

This is Farrier.

They've been together since they got their wings.

Just his mate.

Nothing else.

"Yeah, well," Collins takes a deep draw and when he talks next, the smoke goes in Farrier's direction, "maybe they're growing on me."

"Yeah," Farrier says, half-heartedly like his mind's someplace else, and he just stares.

From then on, it starts getting awkward again and Collins shifts his weight from foot to foot, at a loss for words and feeling like he's being read like an open book.

It feels like ages before Farrier gestures towards him with the half-eaten apple again and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You have a very nice cologne, don't think I ever said."

Collins almost chokes.

But it's just smoke in his throat so he simply plays it off as a cough.

"Quite strong," Farrier continues; Collins feels like his soul is leaving his body, like he's imploding, like he's about to pass out, "but nice."

He looks around, maybe someone nearby will come and drag him out of this situation, out of this conversation, is Jenkins gone off already?

"My bedsheets stink of it."

Oh fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Dear me, don't look so mortified!" Farrier laughs, he laughs, "I don't mind, but someone will notice, and they'll start talkin'."

Oh fuck, we are having this conversation.

"Shite, look - sorry, I'm sorry, I just, it's - I dunno," yes you do, you do know, you bleedin' idiot, "I sleep better in yer bed, I won' do it again."

"Do it all you want.”

And Collins stops himself from blurting out any more apologies at that, frozen in place whereas Farrier looks positively amused by the whole affair.

The fact that he's taking it so lightly is almost insulting.

"You wha'?" Collins blinks stupidly.

Farrier checks that no-one else is within earshot and shifts the slightest bit closer to him. Just a silent and quick look around that sends off alarms in Collins' brain.

The Scot swallows through a very dry throat and he most definitely doesn't look down at Farrier's throat when he swallows another piece of his apple, that very sweet apple he can smell from where he's standing.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me lately? Acting all weird because you've been sleeping in my bed?"

Collins makes a face. Farrier laughs again, the bastard.

"God, don't say it like that, ye make it sound-"

"What? I make it sound what?"

Collins can't make a sound. He can only look at Farrier, with his hazelnut twinkling eyes staring right into his soul, the brightest of lightning making his pupils go small for half a second, those juicy lips that would most definitely taste of fruit, the collar of his shirt buttoned-down, the suspenders firmly in place on top of both wide shoulders and BANG!

The loudest and closest thunder so far sinks the whole hall into deep darkness, only the very dim light from cigarette tips visible here and there. A collective wave of groans and colourful swearwords can be heard all throughout.

Collins jumps in his place at the sudden deafening sound, and instantly two strong arms come to grab each side of his shoulders to prevent him from moving, and he can't see a thing but he can feel, he can feel Farrier's fingers grabbing insistently at the fabric around his biceps and he can feel him suddenly leaning closer.

And he can feel him kiss him too.

Deep and needy and just a flash.

Like that lightning.

So fast and unpredictable it leaves him heaving for breath and needing to brace himself against the thick window glass. It leaves him tasting apple.

[lu-undy]

Request: Lucien tries to make mundy jealous, mundy tried to make Lucien jealous as a response, Ludwig/medic is somehow caught in the middle of this. Ludwig/medic did not sign up for this and Is very done.

Here we go for a bit of jealousy on both parts ;) ! I hope you’ll enjoy!

"Bonjour, two coffees please, a long one and an espresso. Thank you, Mademoiselle." 

Spy was at the counter, ordering from the waitress. Sniper looked at him from the table. The waitress was giggling and blushing, covering her mouth with her hand. What the hell was Spy telling her…? Oh and now she was showing him something, a piece of paper? And now she was scribbling on it?

The Frenchman sat down, a smile still lingering on his lips. That irresistible grin somehow stung the Aussie, in his chest. It was a delicious sight, the Frenchman's pearly white teeth flashing between his thin lips… But it hurt too! Knowing that the Aussie wasn't the source of that small burst of happiness, of the pink on Spy's cheeks. It made his eyebrows ever so slightly twitch. 

"Got the coffees?" 

Spy sat opposite his colleague. 

"Oui, they shall arrive shortly." He answered, his eyes never leaving the young waitress in her short skirt and work apron. 

"So, uh," Sniper tried to interrupt his staring. "Got any plans for today?" 

"Apart from sharing my breakfast with you, Bushman? Non, not really." 

The waitress came to their table. 

"Who's the long coffee?"

"My friend here." Spy answered. 

"So you're the espresso, right?" 

"Exactement." The Frenchman answered with one those trademarked smiles of his, those that made the clocks stop around Sniper.

[Exactly.]

Spy carded his hair back with a nonchalant hand, brushing through his salt and pepper silky locks. Something burnt inside Sniper and the waitress left them. Silence fell at the table and Spy was smiling to himself still. Sniper couldn't help but stare at him. He shouldn't because the longer he kept his eyes on him, the more painful it was. 

Spy finally broke the silence. 

"Actually, I might do something today." He said, his irises following the young woman. "It depends, it might be a bit foolish of me." 

Sniper downed his bitter coffee. 

"Roight, I'll be in the van." He left the table, fuming with - he would never admit it - jealousy. 

When he slipped in the van, he slammed its door shut and crossed his arms on his chest. His breath was fast and angry, dry and hot. He had never thought about it but now it sounded and looked obvious. If Spy always accepted his invitations to go to town, maybe it was just to get some fresh air. Maybe he just saw him as a convenient chauffeur, and a quite entertaining one at that! Sniper had always tried to make his small talk as interesting as he could… Bah, he had never been the chatty type, even though he thought his friendship with Spy was helping him on that front. Apparently not, or not enough. 

About a minute later, Spy appeared in the van. 

"I apologise if I put you late for something, Sniper." 

"Nah, it's fine." 

The van roared and off they went, on their way back to the base. 

Sniper was cold and distant. He didn't try to initiate any conversations, and kept answering Spy with one-word sentences. The Frenchman sensed the uneasiness, the discomfort. He decided against pushing Sniper. Whatever caused him to fall silent and frown, biting his cheek, wasn't something the Aussie looked ready to discuss. 

They spent the rest of their day each in their own world. Spy had stayed in the confines of his suite, while Sniper had hung out with the rest of his colleagues. 

At the dinner table, only Spy was missing. 

"You're not havin' dinner with fancypants tonight?" Scout asked Sniper as he sat down. 

"Nah." 

"You got into an argument?" 

Sniper raised his eyes and their shine sliced the room. 

“Finish yer fries, laddie.” Demo interrupted them before Sniper murdered his young colleague.

Dinner was spent normally for most mercenaries. Only Sniper was staring emptily at his plate, but Demo noticed it. So after dinner, he went to his Australian colleague, drinking some beer on his own.

“Hey, lad.”

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong? Wanna talk about it?”

Sniper looked left and right, making sure no one else would eavesdrop on them.

“It’s…”

“Is it Spy?”

Sniper nodded, his head still lowered.

“Go on, tell me.” Demo got closer to his friend and talked low.

“He’s… It’s me, I got funny ideas again but it was all in my head.” He sighed.

“Oh, I’m sorry for you. You’re a good man, he’ll regret it.” Demo took a swig of his scrumpy.

“Don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“He uh… He met someone today and uh… I don’t want to sound weird but…”

“You can tell me, mate,” Demo said. “I’m just here to listen, not to judge.”

“Yeah, well. She’s young and a sheila at that. He didn’t stop staring at her, smilin’ like a bloody idiot. I saw him take his car and drive off a bit before dinner and uh…”

“You think he went to have dinner or something with her?”

Sniper turned to face the window. He could almost see it before his eyes. Spy and that young woman, on a table for two, a candle in the middle, his eyes shining and half-lidded, drowning in her eyes… 

“Ugh!” He shook his head and his shoulders, a shiver slithered up his spine.

“Sniper, look. I’m uh, yeah, I’m sorry for you. You liked him a lot, eh?”

The Australian smiled.

“Understatement of the century, yeah. He uh… He'd do nothing and I'd feel so good just looking at him. And when he looks back, Gosh… It's like gettin' punched but by his eyes."

"Woah, didn't know you liked him that much." Demo put a hand on Sniper's shoulder and patted him on the back. "Sorry it didn't go the way you want, lad…"

"You know what hurts the most? It's knowing that now, I can't see him the same. It's like… If I were to see him now, I'd feel the butterflies again and it's like he didn't hurt me at all. I'd uh… Bah, forget it." Sniper removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. 

Demo was out of words, so he just wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tapped his shoulder. 

Unbeknownst to them, Spy entered the living-room and all his eyes saw was Demoman comforting his friend. Now Sniper was lowering his head and Demo hugged him. 

Spy's lips parted in surprise and his very bones froze, stinging everywhere. When his cigarette hit the floor, he was already back in his suite. 

Sniper's head jerked up. 

"What?" Demo asked. 

"Don't you smell it?" 

"Smell what?" 

Sniper sniffed the air left and right. He let the scent guide his feet until he arrived at its source. 

"What the… Where?" 

He looked down and Demo saw him pick something up from the floor. 

"What is it, lad?" 

Sniper turned to his friend holding a cigarette that had hardly been consumed. 

"Bugger…" 

"What's the matter lad?"

"Don't you understand?!" Sniper almost shouted. 

"No, I don't." Demo frowned. 

"Look!" Sniper brandished the cigarette. 

"It's a cigarette."

"Yeah! But look at it! It's barely been smoked and have you ever seen Spy ever drop one?" 

Demo's eye went left and right, rummaging through his memory. 

"No…?"

"He was there a minute ago and left too quickly. Something's wrong, he'd never waste one of his cigs." Sniper puffed on it and his shoulders sank and relaxed. "Gosh it's really one of his…" He melted. 

"Sniper, look-"

"I gotta see what's wrong with him." Sniper turned on his heels, ignoring his friend and headed for the Frenchman's room. 

"No, wait!" Demo stood in front of him and blocked his way. "What's the matter with ya? One minute you're sad cause he left you and the next you wanna throw yerself into his arms?!" 

"Nah," Sniper looked down at Demo's eye. "I never stopped wanting to throw myself in his arms. That's my problem." And he pushed his colleague out of the way gently to knock on the Frenchman's door. 

"Go to hell!" Was the answer he received.

"Spook…" Spy's ears pricked up. He hadn't expected Sniper to come and visit him, not after what he saw. "It's me." 

"Did I stutter? Or perhaps you did not understand it in English?" 

Spy sounded furious, even through the wooden door with the knife symbol on it. How did Sniper dare show his face to him after he clearly had misled the Frenchman for weeks? Spy had always taken the time for him - no, actually, he had always made the time for him. He had accepted all the invitations that Sniper made to take him to town, have a drink, or something to eat. Hell, Spy even never dared suggest anything on his own, because he wanted the shy, antisocial and introverted Aussie to feel at ease with him, to take things at his pace.

And all these efforts amounted to what? Sniper hugging Demoman. Demoman of all people! Putain de merde! Was it not clear enough through their banter, through the nights spent under the stars in the cold, just to watch the stars with him? Ha! Talking about that, Sniper never realised that when he was busy unravelling the mysteries of the universe to Spy, the Frenchman was absorbed in the stars, but not those in the sky. He didn't raise his head that far up to see them, non, he only had to look in the depth of the Aussie's pupils, in his kind, lagoon irises. That was where the stars were, that was where they came from, the sparks that made Spy's body fizz up everywhere…

All that happened in the best and the worst of secrets, right under the Aussie's nose but never clearly enough for him to see it. 

"Spook, please." Sniper knocked again and Spy sighed. He pushed himself to stand and went to the door that he opened in a flash.

"What do you want?" 

"A-are you alright?" Sniper asked. "I found one of your cigs on the floor. It was barely lit and uh, I know you wouldn't waste them…" 

Spy raised an annoyed eyebrow. 

"... They're bloody expensive, eh?" 

Spy sighed and let Sniper in. 

"So, uh, what's the problem…?" Sniper asked while Spy crossed the room to sit back on his sofa. He lit a cigarette and stared emptily in front of him. 

Silence fell. Spy was furiously jealous of that embrace Sniper shared with Demoman. It made his heart shatter like glass, the shards of which he was now too old to pick up. He blew the smoke of his cigarette. 

"Are you going to stand awkwardly there?" He said. "If so, then you don't have anything to say to me, thus making your presence absolutely unnecessary. You know where the door is." 

Spy's voice was cold and scathing. Sniper took a deep breath as if to gather the strength from the air he pumped in his lungs, and he went to sit on the sofa too. 

"I don't have anything to say to you, I'm just here cause I know something's not right with you." Sniper answered and Spy felt the hint of some vexation in the Aussie's voice. "But if you're gonna be a mongrel about it, alright, I'll tell you what I think is wrong with you…" 

Spy raised a curious eyebrow and interrupted him. 

"Pardon? Something is wrong with me?" He asked, with a hand to his chest. "Non, Bushman, I think I have been perfectly honest and clear. For once, I did not mess anything up by lying or anything of the sort!" 

Sniper nodded with an almost cruel smile. 

"Oh so she stood you up? It wasn't just that she didn't like you back?" 

Spy frowned. 

"Pardon?" His native tongue came to him faster than English and he was too irritated to correct himself. "What are you talking about?" 

"That sheila you went to have dinner with! The one who gave you her number this mornin' at the café, cause that's what she wrote on that paper she gave you, wasn't it?!" Sniper was now angry. 

"Bushman, what on Earth have you invented?!"

"Invented? Me?" Sniper repeated, rage boiling inside him. "I saw it with my own eyes, you wanker! She gave you her number and next thing I know, you don't come out for lunch and drive off right before dinner!"

"So you conclude I went to have dinner with that woman?" Spy asked.

"Yeah, well, is there anythin' else I should get? Oh, yeah, actually, there is! You come back to the base so pissed off that you shout at me when I knock on yer door and you throw away one of your cigs! So yeah, I think she didn't wanna get a second date at the very least!" 

Spy sighed and facepalmed. His hand sank down his face. 

"Oh so you imagine I spend my time with someone I've hardly met while you -" Spy pointed an accusative index finger on Sniper. "You fall into Demoman's arms like that!" Spy snapped his fingers. 

Sniper's eyes opened as wide as planets and his pupils shrank to a dot. 

"But let us dwell on something else first, shall we?" Spy continued. "Why on Earth would you care if I saw that woman again?"

Sniper's lips parted but no sound came out. Yes he did care very much and it had ripped him apart on the inside when he had seen Spy exchange smiles and sweet gazes with that sheila… But wait, Sniper frowned as he found a come back to that. 

"Wait, hold on, you saw Demo with me?" 

"Anyone could have! You were in the middle of the living-room! And to think that I thought you shy and prude, you hide your true nature very well, I would be scared for my own position if not for one reason." 

"What?"

"What you think I spent my day doing just shows how incompetent a spy you would be." Spy explained, his voice calming down.

"I'm not scared to lose my job. You're shit at aimin'." Sniper answered, just to have the last word. 

Silence fell. 

"You are an imbécile." Spy looked at the emptiness in front of him.

"And you're an idiot." Sniper tilted his head that he held low. 

"The waitress this morning, she didn't give me her phone number, and I didn't drive to her before dinner."

Sniper turned his head to Spy. 

"She complimented my looks and pointed out the fact that I looked like a certain actor, her favourite, she mistook me for him. She showed me a picture of him and I could see the resemblance but I explained she was making a mistake. I then asked her to write down his name, which she did. That is what she scribbled on this piece of paper." Spy retrieved it from his pocket and tossed it on the sofa. Sniper didn't need to look at it. Something in Spy's voice convinced him that he was telling the truth. "But what about you? And Demoman? Why would you invite me for drinks or to just stroll in the city if Demoman is close to you?"

"I… I was pissed off because I really thought that sheila just got you with a snap of her fingers. I was ventin' to him, I was telling him how - argh, anyway, I just talked to Demo and he was sorry for me. He just gave me a pat on the back, is all." 

Spy raised an eyebrow staring in his eyes.

"I swear, it was just that, nothin' more." Sniper insisted and Spy's eyes went to the floor. He was convinced. "But where did you fly off to before dinner then?" 

"I went to town to get this." Spy stood up and went to the TV, next to it was a video cassette. He came back to the sofa and handed it to Sniper. 

"What's that?" 

"A video cassette. It's one of the movies with the man who looks like me. I had hoped that you would accept watching it with me tonight. I was on my way to ask you and expected to spend the evening by your side, laughing at how you would mock him, or me, for our resemblance. I do admit it is one of those romantic movies that would make me gag otherwise. But…"

"But what?" Sniper flipped the cassette and observed it in his hand before raising his eyes to Spy. 

"But since a few weeks, even the atrociously cheesy songs on the radio make sense. Their lyrics get to me the way they do each time it happens."

"Each time what happens?" Sniper asked. 

"Each time I fall in love." 

The air stilled in the room.

"And since we are being truthful," Spy started and closed his eyes to push the end of the sentence out of himself. "The surprise of seeing Demoman's arms around you made me drop my cigarette. But that is not what made me spin on my heels and go back to my room." 

"What then?" Sniper asked. 

"Can't you guess?" 

"N-no, I don't know…" 

"I presume it is the same thing that made you leave the café hurriedly this morning." Spy said and Sniper understood. 

"Y-you were jealous?" The Aussie asked, not believing that the word was exiting his own lips. 

"As much as you were when you thought I was having dinner with that young woman." 

"Gosh…" 

Spy crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray on the coffee table in front of him. 

"Now you know everything of my whereabouts for today. You may leave if you so wish." 

Sniper looked at the cassette in his hand. 

"Spook?" 

"Oui?" 

"When you said you fell in love… was it…?"

"With you? Oui." Spy answered calmly. "But I can understand if the feeling is far from mutual. After all, you have seen me without my mask and thus guessed that my age isn't quite yours." 

"Pfff…" 

"I know. It pains me to think that I used to be able to seduce anyone I wanted back when my hair was black. Now, I cannot even look you in the eye for too long."

"Neither can I." Sniper added. 

"You find me that repulsive then? Fine. I shall not bother you and take of your precious time any longer." Spy got up and went to the door. 

Sniper stood up and followed him. 

"I wish you a good night, Sniper." 

When Spy's eyes rose to Sniper, they were filled with heartbreak and grief. There was a form of defeat too. If Spy had always been a womanizer and a formidable love partner, his age now made him just powerless. He just had to accept that he wasn't attractive or charming anymore. He opened the door for Sniper.

"Right, I'll keep the cassette." The Aussie said. 

"Why?" Spy asked, confused.

"I don't want you to watch it with anyone else." 

Spy's eyes shone brighter and Sniper smiled. He pushed the door to shut it again, staying in Spy's room. 

"I wanna watch this bloke who looks like you with you. But uh, I'm not a big fan of movies… I just prefer the real thing." 

Spy bit his lip to contain his excitement as Sniper's grin widened. 

"What if we still watch it tonight?" Spy asked, almost too innocently for himself. 

"Yeah, I'd like that." 

Spy felt like he lost ten years. He took the cassette off Sniper's hand and put it on. When he sat on the sofa, Sniper was next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Spy felt warm and fuzzy on the inside. The movie started and he glued his eyes to the screen. Sniper, however, had his eyes on Spy. 

"Hey, Spook?" 

"Hm?" Spy raised his light blue eyes to him.

"I love you too." 

Spy gasped and covered his mouth with his hand. He was paralysed and stayed in that position for a few seconds, just to digest the words. It didn't fail to make Sniper a bit uncomfortable. 

"R-right, so, uh, the bloke, in the movie, uh… oh…" 

Spy leaned on Sniper's shoulder. He went to find his hand and held it, sliding his own fingers between the Aussie and clenching. Sniper clenched back. 

"I am in love as if I was twenty again." Spy said.

"Shame." Sniper answered and Spy raised his head. "I like'em old." 

"Rude, but appreciated."

Sniper rested his head on top of Spy's and their eyes finally went to the screen. 

"Hold on, that bloke, he doesn't look like you at all, in fact, he kinda looks like-"

"You, oui." 

"What the hell?!" 

Spy's chuckles against Sniper's chest had all kinds of effects on the Aussie. 

"I agree with you, Bushman. I am not a big fan of movies, I just prefer the real thing."

"You liar…" Sniper tightened his hug on his lover and Spy moaned. 

"Only when it gets me where I want, in your arms."

[dopescotlandwarrior]

A Hero Among Us-Final Chapter

Previous chapters on AO3           A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Chapter Eighteen

Jamie entered the house dripping from his bath in the lake and grabbed a towel on his way upstairs. He could hear Claire and Mary talking in the sitting room and hoped to catch a ten-minute nap before supper. His back and arms ached from planting fifty acres at Rupert’s vineyard on a very hot day. It was late July, after a brutal stretch of no rain followed by flooding on the valley floor. They had earned their harvest for the year and the berries grew fat and ready to burst.

Jamie worried he would not wake up for supper, but his body moved of its own accord toward the bed. He marveled at the comfort of the firm mattress and cool sheets. He smiled as his mind drifted into oblivion and his dreams came to claim him. As he always did with naps in the afternoon, he dreamed continuously.

“The Sheriff thinks it was a gang passing through, lookin for someone to rob because they ran out of money. They were askin about the productive vineyards at the saloon, like they were lookin for work. Only had a hand full of farmers that had grapes to sell and ours is by far the finest property, so it wasn’t hard to figure out. Sheriff suspects the two men sent earlier in the week intended to rob us right here in the house. The gang got much bolder when we killed their men. It’s alright Sassenach, it’s definitely over, no one will be comin to settle a score.”

In his dream he looked down at the face he loved before blackness and peace settled over his mind.

“Jamie? Jamie! You two fell asleep on the swing and you were both lost to your dreams,” she giggled. Let me take her before my breasts pop.” He heard the baby cry about losing her heat source until Claire sat down on the swing and offered her a comforting nipple. Jamie was slipping in and out of the scene in his dream. He reached out for the baby’s cheek and saw a dark purple grape in his hand. He was offering it to Faith, who was in his arms in the middle of the vineyard. She was a few months older and she made a face at the sour-tasting fruit. Jaime kissed her cheek and laughed at his funny baby girl. “It’s time to go home sweetheart, yer mam will be lookin for ye.”

Jamie turned around and the vineyard morphed into the kitchen with Misses Crook right in front of him. He was feeling weird about what he had to ask her. She looked up from her task and waited for him to spit it out.

“Ah…Misses Crook…what do ye make of my stomach ailment then?”

“Leave it be laddie, ye dinna want to ken what I think.”

“I saw ye count when ye dropped to the ground to help me, before we found Claire. What were ye countin for?”

Misses Crook regarded Jamie with a keen eye and decided he might as well know what she thought.

“Claire was unconscious when ye found her in the shed, so she wasna havin contractions for a time, ye ken? As soon as ye got some water down her throat her pains started again and yer’s stopped. I think by some miracle, you took over for her so she could rest and stall the birth until we found her.”

Misses Crook looked up at Jamie, blushing about her wild theory. “That is what it looked like Mister Fraser and I ken it’s not possible, but I’ll thank ye anyway, for takin on the pain.”

Jamie opened his mouth to insist she was wrong and felt his lover’s tongue in his mouth and a throbbing erection like a club between his legs. He wanted to devour her after waiting so long for her body to heal. He pulled away, breathing deeply and shaking his head. He had to slow down before he hurt her.

“Jamie darling, I cannot wait any longer.” Claire was flushed and panting, pulling his hand to her core and pushing his fingers into her warm, wet body. She arched her back when he moved his fingers inside of her and he watched with rapt attention.

“My Sassenach, I love ye so much, I dinna want to hurt ye.”

Claire climbed on top of him and pulled him to her, easing down on him slowly, letting her body open to him. It took a few minutes until her arousal demanded his immediate attention and Jamie stared at her like she was a goddess.

The dream faded into darkness and peace.

Jamie felt the saddle under him and saw Ben ahead, riding hard. They were searching for the native vineyards that were selling grapevines.

“Two more Jamie and we can head for home!”

They slept under the stars the night before and he was anxious to get home to Claire. He just wanted this trip to be over. Ben looked back at his face and slowed his horse to a trot until Jamie caught up.

“Listen, Jamie, I just don’t have it in me anymore. This much time in the saddle is too hard for an old man. Let’s head home after we visit this vineyard. We’ll be home late tonight. Okay?”

Jamie felt the freezing water around his feet and sucked in a breath. There was soap in his hand, and he bathed quickly, anxious to hold Claire and check on his baby daughter and Fergus.

“Jamie, darling,” he looked around for her and tried to answer but no sound came out.

Pulling a towel around his frozen body he climbed the stairs. “Jamie, darling.”

“Yes?” He could not make any sound come out of his mouth, but he heard Claire calling to him from somewhere and wanted to tell her he was home.

“Jamie?” He felt her arms reach under him as she kissed his neck.

“I’m here Sassenach.”

Jamie forced his eyes to open, feeling disoriented, and reaching for his wife.

“Sassenach.”

He clutched her to him, struggling to wake up from his exhaustion.

“You poor, sweet, exhausted man. I’m so sorry but we have a dinner party this evening so you must get up.”

Claire watched Jamie struggle to wake up, slipping back to sleep and then jerking his head up to look for her. Sleep was winning so she tried to help him.

“You know, when I came in here to wake you, I pulled the covers away so I could look at you. I’m sorry, I could not resist because it is seldom I can stare at you for as long as I want.” Claire looked coyly at her husband. “Maybe I took it too far because I touched your warm skin,” she ran her hand lightly across his stomach. “I want you now, so much I put my face very close to you,” breathing hard, Claire dropped her mouth within an inch of his cock so he could feel her breath on his skin. “But we must dress for dinner so it will have to wait sweetheart.” She kissed him deeply and noticed he was fully awake now. “Can we come back to this later, outside, under the stars?”

Jamie was pulling her close as she was pulling away from him.

“In one minute, Misses Crook will come barreling through that door to dress my hair,” she whispered. Blankets and sheets were flying as Jamie bounded out of bed and pulled his pants and shirt on.

“Yes…ah, yes Sassenach, it’s a date.” Jamie shook his head “What is the occasion for the party again?”

“We have so much to celebrate, it’s hard to list everything. It is the pre-harvest, the birth of your darling daughter, Mary is with child, Ben’s birthday, Mcreaty’s marriage, planting the new, sorry, old vineyard. Shall I go on darling?”

“No, I think I have it now Sassenach.”

Jamie’s nose suddenly pulled him in the direction of the roasting pig and turkeys outside and his stomach gripped him and rumbled. He was feeling almost faint with hunger when he heard his wee daughter cry out from her nap. Hunger forgotten, he ran to the nursery to rescue her from her crib. He lifted her high above his head and gently lowered her to his face for kisses. Faith was so enamored with Jamie she cooed and smiled as she ran through the sounds she could make while giggling at her father’s antics. Claire smiled at the duo as they came back into the bedroom. Her heart melted, as it always did, the way they looked at each other. Jamie laid next to Faith on the bed and responded to Faith’s gibberish like he understood her. Misses Crook laughed at the two of them as she brushed Claire’s hair.

“Milord, must I wear the clothes I hate, to the party tonight?”

Jamie lifted his head to look at Fergus and felt the room was getting rather crowded.

“Yes.”

“But why, milord?”

“Ye like the lass’s, aye?”

“Yes, milord!”

“Lots of lass’s here tonight and they dinna like scruffy clothing on a lad, so ye dress up to impress them.”

“I don’t actually like them that much, so can I…”

“No, wear what Misses Crook tells ye to or spend the evening in your room where no one can see ye.”

“Yes, milord,” was drawn out and plaintive as the boy left to dress.

Jamie went back to nuzzling Faith making her erupt in giggles followed by giggles from the women. Jamie placed Faith in her mother’s arms to fill her empty tummy before disappearing to the outside to check on the men. All of them were sunburned from three days of planting in the sun. They looked healthy and happy waiting for the women to arrive.

Jamie made his way to the barn to feed the horses. He stroked the silver stallion and then the mare and her foal who was occupying her own stall, fully weaned from her mother. Jamie brushed them while they gorged on their meal. Deep in his thoughts, he heard a whiny outside the barn and realized the guests were arriving before he cleaned up. He closed the stall door and dashed for the barn door running smack into a large creature like a solid brick wall. It knocked him down and the view from the ground was both terrifying and thrilling. An eighteen-hand horse, built like a stone barn, and known for an attitude of the equine criminally insane, stood over Jamie as he counted the minutes left in his life.

Jamie stood and smiled at his old friend, offering the treats that remained in his pocket. Donus dropped his head and let Jamie scratch and stroke him. His weight was the same as when he was fed twice a day, so he had not suffered on his own in the wilderness. His eyes followed Jamie’s every move.

“Thank ye for the visit Donus. I have worrit after ye and I see it was for naught.” He smiled and hugged the monster horse noticing he did not flinch or try to bite. That was unexpected. When Jamie turned to walk back to the house Donus followed on his heels, so close he could hear him breathing. Jamie turned around and looked in his eyes.

“What is it you want Donus? How can I help ye?”

Jamie walked backward toward the house and Donus kept his head inches from Jamie as he followed.

“Are ye wantin a rest for the evening then? Alright, it is my pleasure, aye?”

Jamie walked back to the barn and led Donus into the last remaining stall.

“I’m lockin ye in until after the party, then I’ll leave yer door open so ye can leave when yer ready.”

Donus dug into the meal Jamie provided, allowing his true master to return to the house to dress.

Claire greeted guests as they came, offering refreshments and bales of hay to sit on. The Highlanders paced and watched the newly repaired road for the lassies that would set their hearts to ramming all night. Claire was delighted that the more refined guests, like Mary, her parents, and Lester from the bank, seemed to find their comfort outside sitting on hay and enjoying the festive atmosphere. When the ladies started to arrive, Claire had never seen everyone so happy as they filled their plates with a variety of dishes from Cho’s garden, and roasted meats and fish from the men. She noticed Rupert jumping to fetch whatever was needed by sweet Mary or her parents. He was a wonderful husband.

Fergus pulled on Claire’s sleeve, “Faith is awake milady.” Claire held his cheek and kissed the other, thanking him for looking after her. When Faith was brought outside with a full belly she smiled and babbled at everyone, until she saw Jamie. Her feet found Claire’s lap and the baby stood up with straight legs and yelled at her father.

“Da da da da da. Da!” Her little hand was extended toward her Da as he swiftly pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she erupted in giggles. Jamie pulled her sleeves up to her elbows and sat her on his lap before offering her a bone to gnaw on. Faith dove into the bone like a rabid baby making the guests laugh. Claire watched the two, so in tune with each other and so funny. She would never have thought to offer her daughter a meaty bone at this age, but Faith clearly loved it.

Fergus was sitting next to Claire shoving food into his mouth as fast as possible when his head popped up and he listened for a moment. Somehow, over the noise of almost fifty people laughing and talking, he heard a familiar sound. With his plate forgotten he made his way to the barn and peeked in feeling his heart rate shoot up, and a smile spread across his face. He went to the horse and hugged him, telling every single incident that happened since he saw him last. Donus rubbed on the boy looking equally happy.

Jamie leaned against the open door of the barn and watched Fergus’s delight at seeing Donus again. Faith started babbling and holding her hand out to the huge black horse so Jamie walked her closer and watched Donus press his muzzle into her hand, gently, like she might break with too much pressure. Jamie was beaming at Donus, his daughter, and Fergus.

“Until later my friend when I let you out to your life in the trees.”

Fergus pressed his face into Donus’s neck and felt the change in him. “Why don’t you stay and be milord’s horse?” He kissed his nose and ran back to the house.

When the party was over and all the guests had gone home, full and happy, Claire climbed the stairs almost shaking with anticipation. Jamie came in from the porch where he set three low lamps and candles next to the outside bed. He looked at Claire with lusty eyes that made her squirm.

“I told Misses Crook I would not need her help tonight so she could attend to Faith,” her voice quivered, setting Jamie’s arousal on fire. “Now it seems I require assistance,” she tried to smile and breathe but only managed a deep blush.

Jamie guided her to her vanity where he pulled the pins from her hair slowly, pulling his fingers through each section he released. He pulled the brush through her hair and noticed she was staring at him with dark eyes that demanded attention. Jamie reached for her buttons, intent on the slow strip to heighten her need. Pulling her arm toward him, the buttons of her jacket were twisted open as she watched his fingers and squirmed. Jamie’s head shot up and he dropped her arm quite unexpectedly, apologizing that he forgot something before running out of the room.

Jamie ran to the barn and burst in surprising the silver horses who vocalized their discontent. He investigated Donus’s stall where a large black horse was snoring in his bedding, dead to the world. Jamie smiled at seeing him lay down for the first time. He opened his stall door quietly and wished his friend well before running full speed back to Claire.

She sat on her vanity chair, back straight, smiling like her breeding demanded and stood to offer her back when Jamie came rushing into the room. His fingers slipped into the laces, releasing her to breathe deeply. She pressed her back against him and sighed with relief as his hands came around to release her shift.

With his mouth to her ear, he told her a story about a princess that fell from her saddle when the evil men scared her horse. As the story continued, he ran his hands over her body, caressing her breasts and holding her to him. Claire was lost in their story feeling her arousal threaten to break her barriers and devour this man. Jamie walked her, naked, outside to the porch and pressed her into the mattress. When he continued the story, it became decidedly erotic and every sentence was punctuated with his tongue touching her somewhere she loved. Claire’s first release was not for the faint of heart and Jamie smiled at her inhibition and wanton cries for more. She was hungry and demanding, biting his lower lip and jaw, neck and nipples, pulling groans from deep within him. As the night wore on, they lost themselves in a stratosphere reserved for strong bodies that can survive the climb and the euphoric fall back to earth.

“Open yerself lass, let me in.”

Claire opened her legs wide and held herself open knowing it would steal Jamie’s sanity and restraint. He pulled her pelvis up and pounded into her, losing himself to his roaring need, knowing she found her own intense pleasure from his onslaught. When he felt her inner muscles tighten around him, he kissed her deeply and they shared an earth-shattering orgasm…quietly.

Jamie collapsed next to his steaming wife and panted as if to save his life. His hands gripped Claire until he could move and think again, then he pulled her close and buried his face into her hair. The night had been exquisite, and they would remember it until their last day.

“Jesus! Is that light from the sunrise, Jamie? I think I’ve kept you up all night, I’m so sorry.”

“Dinna fash Sassenach. Those lazy grapes will take another week to ripen. We have plenty of time to sleep.”

He growled into his wife’s hair and plotted to lure her back for a second helping, after morning chores which were less than an hour away.

Jamie stumbled out to the equipment barn and stood holding the hydrometer in the air, sound asleep. Fergus came in with a bright smile and abundant energy, bursting to tell Jamie Donus was still in his stall. He approached his master, wondering why he was inspecting the glass hydrometer when he heard a deep snore. Fergus rolled his eyes and pulled the huge man toward the door.

Come, milord, I have fed the horses and Donus did not leave so I fed him too. He looked up, expecting Jamie’s outburst of happiness but there was only silence, followed by another snore. Fergus exhaled loudly, shook his head, and kept pulling.

Jamie was waking up from the walk, but Fergus continued to push him to the white grapes on the valley floor. He pulled grapes as he pushed milord along and stopped to test the first bunch. Jamie fell forward and face planted the dirt while Fergus’s eyes went wide, and his face drained of color.

Fergus yelled for Jamie as he ran for the bell. His legs burned as he approached the cabins and he reached for the bell yanking it with all his strength. When the cabin doors flew open Fergus ran back to Jamie who was still unconscious with exhaustion.

Jamie lifted his head, spitting dirt out of his mouth and struggled to get off the ground. He was so relieved to stagger back to his bed but when he turned back to the house, thirty-five Highlanders were rushing him with their hook tools and bags, followed by thirty Chinese men. Jamie’s mouth fell open as he looked to heaven.

“Why today?”

It seemed like mere minutes before he heard the call for containers as the men ran back with their bags full. Jamie looked around trying to rally when an electric current went up his spine to inform the brain it was time move, NOW! Jamie ran top speed into the vines, bouncing three holding containers behind him. The race to pull the clusters had begun.

Ben’s laugh and barking orders to the men pulled Claire out of her sleep. She stretched languidly with a smile on her face, remembering the intensity of the night before. She was hot with all the blankets and started to kick the quilt off when her eyes slammed open with a gasp. She was on the porch bed with men yelling fifteen feet below her, and she was very naked. She sat up quickly and almost came eye to eye with the men below. Slamming her body back to the sheets she looked around for the best escape back into their bedroom. With no other option, she rolled onto the ground keeping her body against the boards of the porch floor, and kicking the door closed quickly once she was inside.

“Jesus Christ, that was close.”

Hearing Misses Crook with a crying baby at her door she dove for her robe and was flush and panting when they came into her bedroom. Claire reached for Faith as Misses Crook took notice of the late hour and Claire’s frantic demeanor. When the door closed again, Claire sat in the rocking chair and breathed a sigh of relief she wasn’t caught outside in her birthday suit. Faith pulled her hair into her fat fists and smiled up at her mother as she gulped her breakfast. It was the sweet reunion with the child she loved so dearly that brought her heart rate down and pulled her into the morning serenity.

Claire ran her fingers through the soft copper curls and smiled into large blue eyes. This tiny human took her breath away and her eyes burned with tears. Faith let go of her nipple and stared at her mother, concern washing over her face as she reached for Claire’s eyes.

“Happy tears my little darling.” She patted the baby’s back waiting for a burp. Faith was not satisfied and turned her head touching Claire’s cheek. Her mother’s smile was all she needed and pulled Claire’s hair into her fist brushing it back and forth under her nose while she nursed and fell asleep.

Dressed in her riding pants, boots, and hair pulled under her hat, Misses Crook rolled her eyes as Claire handed the baby back and slid down the banister to join the men outside. The older woman took a breath to admonish her mistress for acting like a common man, but Claire’s bright face and smile stopped her instantly. She could not ignore the obvious any longer. Claire was one hundred percent committed to this farm, the grapes, and most of all, her husband who made the sun rise in the morning and set at night. Misses Crook sighed deeply knowing Claire would never return to London and the privilege they enjoyed there. The Fraser’s were rich enough to travel the world but found their greatest joy in each other, their daughter, and living without limits in this uncivilized land.

Misses Crook looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms and knew there would be others coming, Every other year most likely. Mary would need her services, as will the mounting brides of the Highlanders. They would all depend on her to keep them safe and alive as they built strong families.

She put Faith into her crib and took stock of her life. She no longer managed the sumptuous houses of the London elite. These people lived on the edge of civility, willing to risk everything to pull a living out of the ground. They worked to exhaustion, protected each other, and loved intensely, clinging to each other when the world turned against them. Seeing her life woven into the tapestry of lives here made her take a deep breath and square her shoulders. Misses Crook closed the door quietly and made her way to the stairs. She would keep the men fed, push Claire into the shade, ease frayed nerves, and by God’s good grace a celebration would follow. She was the support at each stage, and it filled her with the deepest sense of family she had ever felt. She walked down the stairs and toward the kitchen, she had work to do.

Jamie ran toward the vines with additional containers and passed Claire running the other direction. He stopped her, both panting and covered in sweat. He held her to him and felt her heart banging in her chest.

When Jamie did not break away at a dead run, she held him close and then looked into his eyes.

“You are my hero, since the day I fell off my horse. I’ve never known a man stronger or braver than you, Jamie. I know you’re tired and hot, but we are almost done with the whites.”

“Thank you, Sassenach. He pressed into her forehead and took a deep breath before running to pull the full containers back to the house.

When the grape horses pulled the laden wagon to the road, Jamie jumped into the lake and dressed for Ben’s return from selling the fruit. Ben waved the pistol wearing men away as they followed the wagon. Security would not be needed this year, he would be fine.

As the sun set lower in the sky, Jamie paced the porch watching for Ben. He felt a terror in his gut, telling him that last year was just a huge mistake. Grapes could not command the price he got if they were the only grapes in the world. It was a belief that stayed in his head for the entire year. People would come to their senses and pay just enough to cover expenses for the year driving them into the poverty he was used to. Ben’s long absence was a harbinger of doom to their happy lives. What was taking so long?

Claire tried to coax Jamie into the house to have supper, but he could not eat with his anxious stomach, so he paced until it was dark, and the day was over. He sat hard into a chair and put his head into his hands. The sound of wheels pulling an empty cart rattled hard as it approached, and Jamie shot to his feet watching for Ben. Fergus ran to tie the grape horses and Ben patted the boy on the shoulder and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Jamie felt the utter defeat drain his energy and resolve.

Ben stood on the porch and looked at Jamie with compassion in his eyes. “Call Claire, Jamie, I have news.”

Jamie noticed his tired face lacked the excitement of last year’s harvest and he felt repentant for pushing this kind man too far.

“Sorry about the time it took me to sell the grapes. I’m sure you were worried, but it could not be helped. You see, I was set upon by representatives of the major wineries from Napa to Sonoma as soon as I hit the road this afternoon. They wouldn’t let me pass and offered twenty percent over any price offered. It took forever to figure it all out and before I knew it, there was a bidding war and I was held captive while the crazy bastards fought among themselves. I’ve never seen anything like it and frankly, didn’t know what to do.”

Ben pulled his hat off and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry Jamie, I couldn’t stand it any longer and stopped the fighting by doubling the highest price I heard. I figured I would start again tomorrow and avoid the ridiculous posturing of these idiots. Maybe I’m too old for this line of work.”

Jamie stared at Ben, wanting to feel compassion for his troubled afternoon but failing due to his anxious need for the price of the fruit.

“I ended up selling the entire harvest again. The buyer was from a vineyard I’m not familiar with. He offered nine hundred for every acre minus the twenty we’re keeping… and I took it.”

With his hat in hand, Ben looked at Jamie’s face trying to gauge his reaction.

Jamie grabbed Claire’s hand, feeling like a crumbling clay statue blowing into the wind. The promise of riches to see them through the rest of their lives had vanished in a matter of minutes. He started calculating the cost of the growing season, the Highlanders he would have to send back to the city, the dashed hope of replanting Rupert’s vineyard. He was reeling and wanted desperately to hold onto something stationary.

“Yep, well there is more news,” Ben said quietly. I held back twenty acres so we would have the juice to make wine this year. I figured it couldn’t hurt and I promised you that in the beginning.”

Jamie looked at Ben and saw his frayed nerves and exhaustion. “It’s fine Ben,” was all he could muster.

Ben stood up and stretched. “You need to find a bigger bank tomorrow.”

Jamie looked up sharply with a withering look toward Ben. “For nine hundred dollars I think Lester has ample room, Ben.”

“Thousand.”

“Fine, say it’s a thousand, it will still fit in Lester’s bank.”

Ben cleared his throat, “nine hundred thousand dollars, Jamie. It could have been so much more, but that would take experience that I don’t have. I’m sorry son.”

Jamie heard Claire gasp, deep and loud, the likes of which he had never heard from her. She grabbed his hand again and stared, mouth agape, at Ben.

“Jamie!”

The happy exclamation did not suit the paltry price they made for a year of work, he thought. Claire knelt between his knees so he would look at her. He watched her mouth say nine-hundred thousand dollars. That was ridiculous, and he sharpened his gaze at her, willing her to understand. She held his face and asked him to hear her.

“Do you understand, love? Ben sold the grapes, the entire vineyard for nine-hundred thousand dollars. Jamie, focus!”

It echoed in his mind coming back around over and over again, nine-hundred thousand dollars. Jamie finally heard it, such a staggering amount of money they would never see, an immense sale Ben would never arrange. Jamie wondered what kind of game this was. His sweet Sassenach would be hurt when she knew the truth of their compensation. He glared at Ben, thinking he might be daft after his afternoon in the sun. Jamie stood from his chair to pull Ben away for a serious talk when nausea and dizziness forced him back to his seat.

The cold, wet towel pressed into his forehead and Jamie opened his eyes. Claire, Ben, and Misses Crook looked down at him with concern. He blushed with embarrassment and pushed himself up in the chair feeling his head throb.

“I’m sorry, I fear I am dehydrated from a long day in the sun.”

Misses Crook pressed a lemon aid into his hand, smiling like her face would break. “It’s the least I can do for the richest man I’ve ever known.”

“Richest?”

Claire pulled Jamie to his feet and steered him to the door. “It’s been a long day for all of us and time for a rest. Ben, you look dead on your feet. Can you stay with us tonight and get some rest?”

“Thank you, Claire. The grape horses have earned a hearty meal and a rub down tonight. It got really tense on the road today. They wanted to bolt and that would have spilled your hard labor in the dirt to be trampled by a dozen horses.” Ben smiled at Claire, “I told them, steady boys, and felt them push into the yokes, but they didn’t run. Thank God.”

Claire’s hand covered her lips as she realized how close they came to losing the fruit.

“I will ride back with you Monsieur, you can rest and I will feed and rub their shoulders and back.” Fergus stood straight with an uncompromising face, “I am going back with you, I have much to thank the grape horses for.”

Jamie watched Fergus take command of his intent, letting his pride and support show on his face.

“I’m grateful to ye Fergus. Make sure Ben goes straight inside to rest.”

“Aye, milord.”

Fergus left to climb into the wagon and wait for Ben. Jamie was so proud of him and knew Ben would not last five minutes before running into his house to avoid the continuous talk from the lad.

He shook Ben’s hand and smiled, “you and the grape horses are the true heroes today. It’s time for all of us to sleep, fish, lay around, and get ready for the zinfandel harvest. A silver lining is I won’t be plagued with insomnia this year. Who cares if there’s a short harvest, right?”

Ben looked at Jamie and threw a worried look at Claire.

“Everything is perfectly fine. Jamie is due for a long rest, but we thank you Ben, for the miracle you did today.”

They all said goodnight and Claire continued to push Jamie to the stairs and up to their bedroom. She pulled his clothes off and pushed him into bed, sneaking downstairs for Misses Crook’s help with her laces, then running back to her husband. When she tried to speak of their huge gain today, Jamie looked at her with worried eyes and quietly explained that Ben got the scare of his life on the road and wasn’t thinking straight at the moment.” He spoke softly like he was guarding this secret about his best friend.

Claire stood gaping at her husband. It was time for a much needed come-to-Jesus meeting that would not end until he let go of his fear and started to listen.

Misses Crook felt deep concern for Jamie as his brain did not seem to be processing information now. She turned the lamps off as she made her way to her bedroom. When she reached the second floor, she heard the statement that set the world right again.

“Jesus Christ Claire, nine-hundred-thousand dollars!”

His booming voice shook the rafters, and the crib, as Faith was yanked out of sleep and started screaming for comfort. Misses Crook chuckled and pulled the infant to her with an exchange into her father’s arms.

Jamie held his daughter until Claire was ready to feed her. Her fist was so firmly stuck into her mouth it took Claire several minutes of soft talking to pull it out so she could fill her stomach with warm milk.

Jamie knelt on the floor at Claire’s feet, overwhelmed at being rich beyond his imagination. He laid his head on Claire’s lap and she stroked his hair as she fed the baby.

“You are the master of all you survey Jamie, forevermore, and no one is more deserving love.”

Jamie raised his head, eyes shiny from tears, “I must teach them, all of them, how to graft. We will restore the health of all the vineyards and donate third-year vines so they will survive waiting for the plants to produce fruit. We have to do this Sassenach.”

Claire looked at her incredible husband and smiled, “and you will, love.”

Jamie laid back with a warm sleeping baby on his naked chest. Claire knew he was exhausted and brushed the curls off his face with cool hands.

“Why did you push so hard to plant the fifty acres at Rupert’s? I ask because I want to understand more about what we do. Three days of scorching heat, digging into the hard ground with nearly all the men?”

“When we made the purchase, I didna expect them so soon, they were still in the ground, ye ken?” The vines won’t survive very long outside of the dirt, they had to be planted. I didna expect the ground to be so hard we couldna get a pick through it but It had to be done. I didna expect those lazy grapes on our shore to suddenly decide they were ready, right on the heels of those scorching three days and a long night of love with my lady.”

Jamie looked up at the Sassenach, still running her fingers through his hair. “Since we wed, there have been five nights that will be in my memory forever, last night is one of them. I kent it the moment we touched and would have bartered with the devil to see it through.”

Claire looked at him and blushed. “I am afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’ll wager ye do, lass. Close your eyes and try to remember those five nights.”

Claire did as he asked, touching her fingers as she landed on each memory. She held her third finger for several minutes and smiled wide when she touched the fourth and fifth finger. Jamie watched as her awareness lit her from the inside. Her face became soft and serene in the memory and her eyes sparkled when she opened them.

“Yes. I remember five nights, that took us somewhere incredible, and changed us, I think. Did you say you can feel it ahead of time?”

“Aye, when we first touch, lass. Last night I kent I would dwell where your soul resides. It is beautiful, like ye, pure white, so lovely. I felt ye touch me and I was humbled, on my knees, at yer feet.”

Claire watched Jamie’s face, smiling, explaining a place so remarkable, so extraordinary.

“Will I ever see it like you do?”

“I ken ye will Sassenach.”

Claire bundled Faith in her blanket for the cold walk to the nursery finding the ever-watchful, Misses Crook, waiting for them. Faith never woke up and Claire returned to their bed and snuggled next to Jamie in the dark.

“Can you tell me more?”

“I dinna ken where the dimples come from, but his dark curly hair and golden-brown eyes are given by his mam. He’s a braw lad Sassenach.”

“What?”

Jamie held her close and said goodnight, counting the minutes until the Sassenach erupted from the blankets. If she didn’t understand, she soon would when her breasts became tender and her waistline thickened. His exhaustion pulled him to surrender, just as delicate limbs kicked off the quilt and the bed bounced with her efforts to sit up.

“What? Jamie!”

Claire lunged for the lamp on her side table with far too much momentum that tumbled her over the side. Jamie turned the lamp up and looked over the edge at his stunned wife. He held a hand out and pulled her back to his side.

“Did you say…do you think…is this already…how do you…you said a lad…how could you?”

He stopped his stammering love, announcing he did not say a lad, making Claire confused like she misheard everything.

Jamie turned the lamp down and spooned his wife.

“I said, a braw lad, Sassenach.”

Jamie felt Claire counting her fingers, calculating when her second child would arrive, and he smiled in the dark. He had learned far more in that special moment of contact. Like instant knowledge, he saw the catastrophic collapse of the grape market when the European wine industry pushed back with a slanderous campaign to win their market share back. Jamie had heard rumblings of this several years ago, but it stopped when the blight ravaged the region. The Europeans pulled back to wait out the death of their competitors.

He would restore as many of the vineyards as possible and teach the grafting technique which would flood the market with California wines in three years. The European wine industry would wage war on California like a giant bully beating up a wee bairn, creating a glut of fruit that couldn’t be sold.

During the long hot day, Jamie pondered what the future held for California and decided it was something to be missed. Whatever the gain from this year’s harvest, he was taking his family to Scotland, to start over. The properties would be split between Rupert and Angus to profit as they will. His heart rate soared knowing they will see Lallybroch soon and his son would be born in his homeland.

What Jamie did not know was in 1889, California wines would win twenty-four out of thirty medals at the World’s Fair in Paris, and the region will revive like a Phoenix from the ashes.

He did not know they would return to California in 1905 where the four children would thrive and grow strong, learning from the vines, to the delight of their parents. Fergus, Thomas and Gordie will walk in Jamie’s footsteps and take their place in the wine industry.

Jamie would become a master vintner under Ben’s guidance, fermenting gallons of juice to be aged in French oak barrels that accumulate into the hundreds.

Faith will attach herself to Jamie and Ben learning the importance of tannic acid, aerobic and anaerobic fermentation, and temperature manipulation of the yeast. Her interest in chemistry will ignite, eventually taking her away to study in England.

The region would find a modicum of stability after the turn of the century bringing fresh immigrants to spin the wheel of fortune in the California grape business. New wineries spring up and the fiesta returns to celebrate the harvest. A large wood sign will be created to hang at the end of their road to be seen by all. Welcome to the Highland Brother’s Winery.

Jamie could not know that in January of 1920, prohibition would lay waste to the region and only a handful of vineyards remain. The legal sale of grapes and juice keep the growers from starving to death, barely. Most of the Highlanders return to Scotland, including Rupert’s family. Angus will move into the house on the other shore and live as a devout bachelor until a pretty widow bats her eyes at him and his heart pops out of his chest. Lost forever. Jamie and Angus continue growing grapes to be sold as juice, hoping for a repeal of the eighteenth amendment that will take thirteen years.

Jamie could not know all of these things as he cuddled his Sassenach, a very tired and very wealthy young man of twenty-eight. He could not see the troubled years ahead or how his fortune will save countless families from ruin, as he tries to breathe life back into the land he loves. He could not see Ben hand him a gift, a wine brick, in the darkest days of prohibition, and the last time he would see him alive. It will be his second and greatest fortune, this final gift from his beloved mentor.

But that is another story…

The end.

Notes:

According to Wikipedia, the equivalent of $900,000.00 in 1883 is equal to $22,931,821.78… in other words, a wee bit shy of twenty-three million dollars.

I have mad love for the readers who keep me going with their enthusiasm and comments. Feeling creative and appreciated is such an extraordinary experience and I thank you all.

[happyendingsong]

anyway im on my monthly big time rush autoplay binge and they were such a weird midpoint for boybands where the executives clearly had no clue where the naked brothers band/jonas brothers boyband trend was going so they fell back on early 00s nsync/boyzone tropes instead and ended up making something completely out of touch but SO endearing.

and with one direction and their new brand of boyband on the horizon, it always felt like btr had two completely different teams of producers working on the show and the music. like the music videos with the matching outfits and corny choreography and lyrics is absolutely early 00s but then the tv show paints them as normal lads havin a laff and often at odds with their music label which feels very one direction.

early 00s boybands get a lot of flack where most criticisms/parodies focus on the identical manufactured pesonas and manipulative music to beg young girls to fall in love with them and buy the album as their only source of validation, which yes valid. but also how does one direction/5 seconds of summer/etc's 10s brand of boyband lyrics like 'im not gonna buy you flowers but i can be the one tonight ;)' compare to btr's early 00s style of 'any kind of guy girl that's the guy i'll be :)!'

like both are very insidious obviously and christ can young girls catch a break for a fucking second, but it's always bothered me that (usually) men making criticisms of boybands just falls back on what they remember being annoyed about by nsync rather than looking at the new manipulative trends and trying to understand what's happening now.

but this is of course all moot because boybands dont exist anymore outside of kpop. but I'd be really interested in seeing some analysis on what kpop boybands are lifting from and what new shit they're contributing to in the boyband cycle of pop culture :pensive:

[they-might-be-ultramen]

not havin a great birthday so far lads. gotta rush to find two essay topics for different classes, one of which i have to turn in the thesis and bibliography for by midnight tonight - which i have absolutely nothing for because i dont even know what im gonna be writing about yet. felt like some people forgot my birthday (i dont want to name names so i wont) because they said nothing about it, didnt tell me happy birthday, nothin, so that made me feel kinda Bad. there was a whole hassle about our dnd game for tonight that was really frustrating and stressful and im still kinda irked about that. i might not get to see my significant other over spring break because my car got Smashed and is now in car heaven so i dont have a way to get to my SO. my stomach is doin the weird thing where im hungry but i feel like if i try to eat im gonna throw up. and i was feeling really cold in our apartment even tho we turned the heat up and so i checked my temperature and guess what. i got a low grade fever. happy fuckening birthday marin.