#since iT DOES NOTHING AFTER POSI EXCEPT MOCK ME

[waterlogged-detective]

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(blame a tag @capn-twitchery left on another post)

[rahhhhhrs]

Back in DevilTown 1

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33361024  (heres if you wanna read it on a03)

The road trip back home took forever, Alabamas long winding country roads still made you as carsick as it did when you were a kid, except this time you were the one behind the wheel. You honestly didn't wanna head back home anytime soon after graduation, but when you got an email from your old high school friends asking you to come to stay the week at the Jonhson's cabin for "old times" sake, you figured there had to be a good reason for them to get back in touch so soon.

Finally, seeing the familiar dirt road come into view brought back old memories, you and Byrce riding 4-wheelers down the trails, Kevin getting wasted and ending up getting stuck in a tree. You still snicker at the image. Car jerking unevenly as the red dirt turned into the gravel, you see the Johnsons cabin come into view, six other vehicles sit outside. Patricia's hot pink jeep still looking the same as when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Killing your pickup's engine, you grab your old duffle bag and head to the rickety porch. You can already hear the music and yelling; beer cans and cigarettes litter the handrails and porch swing.

Banging on the oak door loud and hard to be heard, you can hear who you think is Bryce yell 'Liam get it!" before the heavy door is swung open. "Ash! You made it!" Liam Nelson, your old track teammate. Already stiffening as he pulls you into a hug with a harsh pat on the back he pulls away to get a look at you. "You haven't changed a bit, Ash! How have you been?" Taking a good look at him you see he's gotten a bit taller over the years, his skin now a nice tan instead of the pale boy you were used to. Shrugging his hands off you duck under him to get inside. "It's only been two years Liam; people don't change that much."

Hearing the door shut you make a note he didn't lock it. Rounding the hallway corner, you see Maggie and Patricia sitting on the worn leather couch. Maggie is smoking what you're pretty sure is a blunt while Patricia hops up to give you a tight hug. "Posie, you made it! I'm so glad you're here." You cringe at the old nickname as she wraps you in a perfume-filled hug; even with her sandals: she barely comes up to your chest. "Good to see you, Patty, you too Maggie." Maggie gives you a slumped half nod as you peel Patricias arms off you and flop onto the couch. "Aw Posie doesn't be like that; we haven't seen each other since graduation!" She sits down beside you; thankfully you wore a jacket in the hot ass Alabama heat. Scratching the back of your neck some you turn towards Maggie as Liam sits beside her. "Wheres the rest of the boys at?" She shifts to lean on Liam and points to the kitchen. "The three morons are back there making some god-awful thing." She takes another drag of her blunt. Liam waves the smoke away with a cough. "So Ash you're the last one here, what took you so long? We honestly thought you weren't gonna come back to this shit hole." Shifting your duffel bag to the floor you reach in and grab your own blunt, lighting it and taking a long drag. "I had some stuff to take care of before heading here, what made you think I wouldn't show?" Taking another drag you feel the itching in your skin lesson, Liam opens his mouth to respond but is cut off.

 A loud clatter comes from the kitchen as Kevin steps out. "Ayy guys, the gangs all here." He throws his arms up wide before shouting back into the kitchen. "Yo Byrce, Will! Ash is here." The two said guys appear behind Kevin. "Sup Ash," Will says before rounding the couch for a hug; you feel your skin itch. "Nah man I'm good on hugs today, Laim and Patty already got me." You put your hand up to deter him, resisting the urge to scratch your arms as he backs away. "Alright, alright; I see you still as touchy as ever Ashy." Kevin's face breaks out into a shit-eating grin, you're already tensing to move before he lunges at you. Rolling out of the way you climb over the couch to put it between you and him. Kevin falls face-first into the couch as Patricia wacks him with a pillow. Will and Byrce both give a snicker. "Damn Ash is still as fast as ever." Bryce snorts snatching the offending pillow from Patricia. Taking another deep drag to soften your nerves you walk back around the couch to sling your duffle bag over your shoulder. "Mind if I put my stuff up now?" Tucking the blunt back between your lips as Kevin gives a mock gasp. "Ten minutes since you arrived and you already wanna get away from us? For shame poise." The others give a snicker before Will pipes up. "Hey, I think ten minutes is a new personal record for her." Kevin and Will both snort as you roll your eyes, Bryce gives them both a wack with the pillow before turning to you. "Yeah go ahead Ash, sane room as always." Nodding your head you make your way to the old staircase, feeling it creak as make your way upstairs you hear the group's fading voices. "I don't know why you invited her Byrce, she's always so fucking weird." They should at least bother to wait till you're outta earshot.

Reaching the second floor you make the familiar track down the hall, the fourth door on the left, tucking your blunt next to your ear you grab the doorknob. Jiggling the sticky brass nob the door pops about to reveal a plain room, shutting the door behind you and stetting your duffel bag down with a heavy thud. Reaching in you grab your small flip knife and a mini flashlight before walking over to the closet. Opening the doors as the hinges give a slight squeak, good. The closet is bare and only has a few wire hangers in it, clicking on the flashlight you reach onto the closet shelf patting around for any hidden objects, finding nothing but a dead spider you turn your focus to the bathroom, closing the closet doors as the hinges give another creak. Opening the bathroom door and flipping on the light you turn to the sink and turn on the faucet. Slowly creeping towards the shower curtain you click open your knife; the sound of it opening muffled by the water. Ripping open the curtain you're thankfully greeted only with the empty tub. Sighing to yourself you click your knife back into place before pocketing it, shutting off the faucet and light before leaving. One last place to check, walking back over to the bed you slowly crouch down to take a look, besides a few dust bunnies and the first aid kit you hid under here in 8th grade there was nothing there. Hearing familiar footsteps come down the hall you grab your duffel and set it on the bed; tucking your knife and flashlight in your pocket you begin pulling out a few clothes. You don't bother turning as you hear the doorknob ratter a bit before they're finally able to get it open. "Hey Bryce, you need something?"

"Damn Ash how do you always know it's me?" Bryce takes a step into your room as you refold an old shirt. "Lucky guess." You shrug before turning to him. Bryce is leaning on the door frame with a hand rubbing his neck. "I just wanted to say I'm glad you showed and the fact I'm sorry you had to deal with Kevin, ya know?" Snorting you pull the bunt you previously saved and take another drag before offering it to Byrce. "No worries Johnson." He gives a small laugh before taking the blunt, his fingers brush yours but all your skin does is give a light prickle. "Johnson? I thought we were on first name basics Richwood." Taking a drag he gives a light cough before offering it back you held up your hand. "Keep it, I got more in my bag anyway. Shrugging he takes another drag before stepping back out into the hallway. "You wanna head back downstairs? I'll keep Kevin and Will busy while you and the others catch up, Pat and Maggie have missed you." Grimacing slightly you nod. "Only if there are snacks." Bryce perks up at your nod and gives you a grin, zipping back up your duffle you head out with him, shutting the door behind you. "Now Ashton when have you ever known me not to have snacks?"

They haven't changed a bit since high school, even now as you sit on the couch everything is tinged with a slight hint of nostalgia. Kevin is still being the dick head he is and always pissing off others for a laugh. Will having as much personality as a paper bag, his spine is just as flimsy. Patricia still looks at you with soft pitying eyes, Maggie acting indifferently as always. At least Liam stayed nice throughout the years; Byrce has always been alright in your book. "Hey guys I'm gonna go out for a smoke, anyone wanna join?" Will asks, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. Maggies snorts turning to Bryce. "You still won't let him smoke in the house? It's not like we haven't been smoking weed in here since eighth grade." Bryce waves her off before taking another swig of beer. "Not since what he and Kevin did that Halloween, I ain't wanting the cabin to catch fire again anytime soon." Will and Kevin give each other offended before yelling, "It was one time!" at Byrce. You hear him mutter "One time too damn many." as Will leaves out the door. Patrica calls out to him before the door shuts, "Be careful out there! It's getting dark." Will calls out a "Yeah, yeah." as the door shuts.

Jumping up from the couch you follow behind Kevin to get some more snacks. You'd rather not be alone with him but your stomach's call for Cheetos and ramen became too loud to ignore. Setting the bag of Cheetos on the counter you open the pantry to grab ramen and chicken stock. "So Ash, how's life been? You practically left this place like a bat outta hell as soon as we threw our caps in the air." Your neck bristled as Kevin stood behind you grabbing the box of chicken stock you were reaching for. Turning around with ramen in hand you quickly duck under his arm; you guess you'll be eating your ramen with water then. "Not everyone wants to stay in devil town, Kevin." Opting to keep your answers short hoping he would drop it, crouching down to grab a small pot from the cabinet, no way in hell were you bending down in front of him. Hearing him set the box of chicken stock on the counter before making his way over to you, tightening your grip on the pot you rose to meet him. "Aw come on Ash don't be like that, we had so much fun together before you left." He put his hand over yours; you had to stop yourself from cracking him across the skull, settling for just snatching your hand out his with a hiss. "Don't fucking touch me." You snarl at him; not bothering to see his response you move to the sink; turning the water as hot as it would go you stick your hand and the pot under the faucet. "Whoah there Ash, chill I was just playing. Plus I thought by now you'd be over the 'touch' thing." Bryce would understand if you threw a pot of scalding water at him right? Turning to glare at him, Kevin flinches slightly under your gaze. You're about to cuss him out, but Liam pops his head into the kitchen. "Hey, have you guys seen Will? He's been gone for a while now." Shutting the water off you take your now stinging hand and leave the pot in the sink. "I'm sure he's fine-" You cut Kevin off and walk to Liam. "Do you think he just came back through the back porch instead of the front?" Liam shakes his head. "No, no one's seen him since he went out to smoke."

Following Liam back into the lounge, you see Patrica giving Bryce a worried look. "Bryce, what's going on?" Kevin goes to sit by Maggie and Liam as Byrce sits hunched over his phone. "I've been trying to call Will after he didn't come back; it keeps going straight to voicemail." Bryce runs a hand through his hair with a huff. "I checked around the house for him but no luck; do you think he tripped or something?" Maggie turns to look at Bryce. "Maybe we should head out and find him; he might have gotten lost, you know how these woods are when it gets dark." Nodding, Bryce stands up. "Me, Liam, and Ash will go look; the rest of you stay here in case he comes back." You start heading to the stairs and call out over your shoulder. "I got flashlights in my truck; let me grab some stuff from my duffel, and then we'll look; he couldn't have gone far for a smoke." Popping your knuckles in your right hand you reach the stairs. Before you touch the banister you pause.

'Now that I got a taste`

'I think that I'd suffocate'

'For every second that you aren't by my side'

'But now I'm stuck at the gate'

'Of Lucifer's estate'

'I fell in love with a girl I met in Hell~"

Bryce's phone is ringing.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Saorsa, Chapter 21

A/N  Here is the next installment of Saorsa.  This is the chapter where I deny readers a description of the wedding, and then turn around and deny them the wedding night.  Really, it has no redeeming value whatsoever, except that it advances the plot.   I’ll make it up to you next chapter - promise!

Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.

Thank you to each of you liking and reblogging!  It does my little fanfic writer’s heart good.

Claire lay in the lord’s bed at Lallybroch, the warmth of her husband radiating against her back.  She could tell by his breathing that he was not asleep.  He lay perfectly still, a discrete distance separating them.

It occurred to her that Jamie was the second man with whom she’d shared this bed in the past six months, and both were her husband at the time.  She was married to a man who had not fathered the baby she carried and whom she knew only marginally better than the man who had.  She was an Englishwoman responsible for a minor Scottish estate, a nurse who had saved just one life, but that life was now tied to hers until parted by death.

Jamie had proposed using a far more pragmatic view of their circumstances, and she tried to adopt his approach.  She needed help of the exact sort that he could offer.  He had no-one, and she needed someone.  It was the least romantic reason for marriage that she could imagine, and yet just this afternoon they had stood in the village kirk and nervously recited their vows.

I, Claire Elizabeth Randall (only Jamie’s eyes had flinched), take thee, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, to be my lawfully wedded husband.

She’d worn an ivory dress in the old style, loosened slightly to allow for the gentle swelling below her waist, and clutched a posy of cowslip and thistle.  Jamie had worn his Fraser plaid, his long auburn curls gathered at his nape, his cobalt eyes fixed on her like she was the pivot point of the universe.   She’d suffered a hundred bouts of cold feet since that moment four weeks earlier when Jamie had made his hesitant, key-inspired proposal, but that one look at the altar warmed her to her toes.   She was making the right choice.

Still, the wedding had almost not taken place because of a technicality.  Jamie was, for all intents and purposes, an undocumented alien.  He had no birth certificate, no baptismal records they could reference, nothing to prove that he existed in any official capacity.   No-one could doubt he was a Scot, with his heavy burr, fluent Gaelic, and Norse pedigree written on every sharp angle of his face, but in 1943 that was not enough to seek permission to marry.

A frantic call to Ned Gowan, and a solution was proposed.  If Jamie presented himself at the Registrar’s Office in Edinburgh, he could claim to have lost his official documentation and apply for an emergency replacement.  

They drove south on a Tuesday.  Ned agreed to meet them at a tavern to describe his cleverly concocted backstory of a home birth, illiterate parents and a house fire.   The trip down the motorway had left Jamie shaken and moody, complaining about the noise and filth of the large industrial city.   Claire listened attentively to Ned and thanked him profusely for his help.   She was coming to like the cunning little lawyer.

Afterwards, it was too late to attend at the Registry.  They ate a simple meal and then Claire arranged for lodging upstairs at the tavern.   As she signed the guestbook as Mr. and Mrs. James Fraser, the tavern owner glanced at her gold wedding band (she’d yet to take it off) and swollen belly, then at Jamie’s bare left hand, and grunted.

Just inside the room, Jamie paced and glowered.  She tried to ignore him, gathering a basin of water from the common watercloset and shedding her uncomfortable shoes.  As she began to let down her hair, his pacing ceased.  He looked positively scandalized.

“Just what do ye think ye’re doing?”

“I’m getting ready for bed.  You should consider doing the same.”

“We canna sleep in the same bedchamber!  Not when we’re nae marrit.”  His voice was a low hiss, as though a priest was listening at the door.

“We’ve done so before, when you were ill.  And the purpose of this trip is so that we can be married, or had you forgotten?  Besides, we’re already registered as Mr. and Mrs. Fraser, and we cannot afford a second room.  Just take off your boots, wash up, and try not to hog all the blankets.”  She flounced onto the hard mattress, knowing she was antagonizing him, but preferring his ire to his brooding silence.

“Christ.  Claire…  Mistress Beauchamp…” he broke off, huffing like an angry bull.

“I prefer Sassenach, if you don’t mind,” she interrupted snidely.

“Tis no’ right, Claire, and ye ken it.  I willna risk yer reputation…”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie, would you listen to yourself?!  My reputation is mine to risk as I see fit, thank you very much.  This isn’t the eighteenth century, and I don’t need you to protect my honour.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d gone too far.  His head snapped back as though she’d struck him.

“Aye.  Ye’ve made that perfectly clear.  I canna be ought but who I am, Claire.  I’d rather ye no’ mock me fer it,” he said angrily, his eyes hardening.

“I’m not your property, James Fraser.  I took care of myself long before you were around to sermonize and disapprove of me,” she retorted.

“Do ye no’ want to be wed, then?”  Just one more step, and they would be hurtling down a route from which there would be no returning.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Claire conceded, quieter.  She reached out a hand, trying to pull him towards her and make some sort of amends.   He ignored the gesture, tearing a blanket and a limp pillow from the bed and throwing them to the floor on the farthest side of the room.   She considered protesting, but then merely shrugged.  It wasn’t as though the bed would be much more comfortable.

“Suit yourself.   Goodnight, Jamie.”  She dimmed the oil lamp and listened to the angry scuffle of his clothing being rearranged.  

Her eyes were just beginning to droop when the darkness spoke. “I dinna like the deceit.  Lyin’ about who my parents were, where I’m from, who ye are tae me.  It curdles my gut.”

She rose up on an elbow and tried to see him through the moonlight coming through the sooty window.  “You don’t have to go through with it.  We can call off the wedding and…”

“No,” he interrupted.  “No, Sassenach.  That’s nae what I want at all.  I ken what is needed tae marry ye, an’ I’ll do it.  I just wish it werena necessary tae build something true on top of sae much falsity.”

She lay silent for so long, Jamie must have assumed she’d fallen asleep.  With a barely uttered “G’night, Sassenach,” he rolled over and did not stir until dawn.  She lay awake, watching blue shadows creep across the plaster ceiling.

A similar scene now played out in their marital bed, except this time she was fairly certain Jamie was watching the shadows with her.  She could feel tension radiating off him like radio waves.  An unexpected brush against her shoulder made her jump.  She peered backwards, watching Jamie rise to loom over her in his nightshirt, the whorls of his chest hair peering through the open collar.  A shiver ran through her like an approaching storm.

“Ye needn’t be afraid of me, Claire.  I wasna planning to suddenly force myself on ye.”

“I never thought you would,” she responded honestly.  Of all the musings that kept her awake on her wedding night, having to manage the advances of a suddenly amorous bridegroom did not factor.   Jamie had never treated her with anything but the utmost decorum.  Even when the priest had invited him to kiss his new bride earlier today, he had done little more than carefully press his dry lips to hers for a breathless second, before pulling back and tucking his chin to his chest, grinning bashfully.

“I ken ye may have… questions,” Jamie continued.  “About how we shall get on as husband and wife.  And I’ll do what I can tae answer them fer ye.  But fer now, fer t’night, wi’ the bairn and all that’s happened tae ye…  Did ye want me tae sleep in my room?  Leave ye in peace?”

“This is your room now.  I want you to sleep here.   Everything else, we can work out later.”

“Aye.  T’morrow.  And all the days after that.  G’night then, Sassenach.”  He settled back against the pillows.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”