#sorry for not posting for what. however many months? 1 and half mayhaps?

[moxymaxing]

college classes are kicking my ass what the hell

[thetranquilteal]

The Vintage Calendar [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

With the ending of her contract with the UK Armed Forces, all Claire Beauchamp wants for Christmas is to enjoy a quiet holiday in Scotland with her long-term boyfriend Frank Randall. While visiting with close friends, however, Claire is gifted with a vintage advent calendar that sets her life on a path she never expected... one that leads to Northern Badgers star, James Fraser. 

Modern Day AU loosely based on the Netflix Christmas movie ‘The Holiday Calendar’. New chapter posted every day!

Day 1: Candy Cane

Claire wrapped her dressing gown around her a little tighter as she shuffled across the living space to the kitchenette, early morning light guiding the way. She placed the kettle on the stove and set about preparing tea, her cold hands fumbling with the canister.

“Still cold, love?” Frank came up behind her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms gently, trying to generate some heat.

“Yes,” she admitted with a light laugh as she wrapped her dressing gown around her a little tighter still. Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast was quaint and in an ideal location, in the very centre of Inverness, but it was not as warm and cosy as she would have liked. “I just can’t seem to shake it.”

“Here,” he took the spoon out of her hand and guided her out of the way, “let me finish the tea. You go and sit by the fire.”

“Thank you,” she kissed him on the cheek and made her way around the couch towards the purple armchair that had caught her eye the moment they entered their accommodation. She paused, though, when the vintage calendar caught her eye.

“Frank?” Claire called.

“Hmm?”

“Did you open this?”

“Open what, darling?”

“The calendar that Mrs. Graham gave us.”

“No, I haven’t had the chance to have a closer look yet. Is there there something for today, then?”

“Yes,” Claire’s brow furrowed as she reached out and picked up the little figurine sitting in the already open doorway. “It’s a little candy cane.”

The sun had long since set by the time Claire wandered the streets of downtown Inverness looking for somewhere to stop for a warm drink. Sparkling lights and Christmas decorations adorned each side and muffled festive tunes could be heard from many of the doorways she passed. She couldn’t bring herself to walk through any of them however, the lights seemingly too bright and vibe feeling too thick, and instead kept walking, taking turns here and there looking for somewhere a little more quiet to spend her evening without Frank.  

It had been a productive day, first studying various heavy tomes with the Reverend at the Manse and then a few hours spent at the local library looking over what Claire considered to be mounds of papers brought to them by the librarian, a large eyed woman with thick glasses, all too happy to deliver more than they could possibly read to their table along with what seemed to be a never ending cup of candy canes. It was there Frank had discovered a new lead, a handwritten note suggesting some rituals performed during yuletide centuries ago had a deeper and more intricate history than previously believed. Seeing the light spark in his eyes, Claire had encouraged him to continue his research and told him not to worry about their plan to spend the evening together - they had a whole month in town and one evening spent apart wouldn’t ruin anything after all.

The streets got darker and Claire subsequently got calmer, slowing her walk to a much more casual stroll, a warm looking restaurant now set in her sights. Suddenly a door opened to her left and a group of people flowed out, merriment evident in their faces if not their voices, each carrying boxes of what looked to be homemade Christmas decorations. She instinctively moved to the side to get out of the way, just barely dodging a stray oversized candy cane to the head and waited patiently in the entrance of an alleyway for them to pass.

“Druid!”

Claire jumped and turned to find an older man standing in an unassuming doorway staring at her. He was dressed in a shirt and kilt that had certainly seen better days and she looked around quickly to make sure that he was, in fact, looking at her before responding. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Druid!" The man repeated, waving for her to come in. "Ach, come on lass! I cannae stand here waiting for ye all night. Come in before ye attract attention!”  

“I don’t-”

Obviously frustrated by her hesitation, the man grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man so seemingly agitated.

She stumbled slightly but regained her balance in time to watch the man leave her just as quickly as he had found her to join a group of men huddled on one side of the establishment. She pushed her indignation aside for a moment to look around and - found a very ordinary tavern. It made sense that she hadn’t noticed this place herself, she thought. It was free from glitz, glamour and - perhaps most significantly - any holiday glitter. Overall, it was rather dark and grungy with lanterns and fireplaces providing a warmth she hadn’t experienced all day.

Determined to remain calm after such an undignified entrance, she squared her shoulders and walked up to the bar, raising a hand to attract the attention of the barkeep.

“Local cider, please.”

The man nodded and Claire settled herself on a stool and, feeling less conspicuous, took her time studying her surroundings more closely. Individuals and small groups were scattered here and there, their collective chatter on par with the music playing through speakers overhead.

She accepted her drink and handed over the required amount of cash. She took a sip and smiled at the taste. 'Life was too short to not enjoy the drink in your hand' as her old Commanding Officer used to say. Half way through her drink the group of men huddled by one of the open fireplaces caught her attention again when a pained grunt travelled across the room.

Just ignore it, Beauchamp. Enjoy your drink, Beauchamp, she thought to herself and for a moment she managed to do just that. Until she couldn’t stand it any longer. "Dammit, Beauchamp."

Claire got up, drink still in hand, and made her way over, their discussion becoming clearer with every step.

“Well, what if I-”

“-I dinnae need yer help!”

“Ye cannae-”

“-one phone call-”

“For the love of-”

There, amongst five or so men, each talking over the top of one another, was a young red haired man sitting on a chair cradling his arm. So busy arguing amongst themselves, they barely noticed her presence.

“It’s fine-”

“-force the joint back, myself.”

“Don’t you dare!” Without thinking, Claire pushed through to stand in front of the injured man. “Stand aside at once!”

“What??”

“Stand aside, she says!”

“Here,” she turned to the loud and overly short bearded man closest to her and handed him her glass. “Hold this.”

“Hold this, she says!”

Claire tuned out the discussion around them and focused on the task at hand.

“Now, what’s happened?”

“Ugh,” the patient grunted as he shifted in his seat, “landed on the ice wrong. Cannae lift my arm without it hurtin’.”

“How long ago?”

“An hour mayhap.”

Claire nodded in understanding and reached out a hand. “May I?”

The man looked at her for a long moment before taking a swig from a glass on the table and visibility gritting his teeth in anticipation. He nodded his consent.

“Do you have a history of instability in this shoulder?” She asked as she palpated the area gently.

“I’ve dislocated it once before,” he admitted with a grimace.

“Or twice,” a gruff and somewhat familiar voice added in, the man responsible for... introducing her to this pub, she suspected.

“Or twice,” her patient reluctantly admitted. “But no’ in a long while.”

“Hmmm… you really ought to see a doctor. Are there any clinics open this time of night?” When he didn’t answer she turned to look at the other men who in turn were equally nonvocal and completely unhelpful. “No? Well, it looks to me like you’ve suffered from shoulder subluxation - a partial dislocation, that is - and it’s fixed itself already. So long as you keep your arm immobile and make sure to rest, I don’t see why you can’t wait to see your doctor tomorrow.” Decision made, Claire stood up and turned to the others. “Fetch me a long piece of cloth or a belt. And some ice from the bar.”

"Fetch me, she says!”

“Ach, shut up ye drunk eejit and do as the lady says,” a tall, bald headed man with a thick grey beard Claire hadn’t noticed before came forward, his authority evident in how quickly the so-called ‘drunk eejit’ complied.

Requests quickly in hand, she turned back to her waiting patient and went about efficiently setting his arm in a sling, the young man following her movements closely.

“Taking a guess you’ve done this before?”

“I’m a nurse,” Claire shared as she pulled the knot tight.

“Aye, you work at the hospital? I havenae seen ye there before.”

“No, not that kind of nurse,” Claire chuckled at Jamie’s confused look and handed him the ice pack before clarifying. “An Army Nurse. But now I have to say I'm curious. Do you frequent the hospital often, Mr…?”

“Fraser," he paused as if waiting for something. A particular reaction from her perhaps? "But you can call me Jamie.”

“Claire,” she reciprocated with a smile. “Under normal circumstances I would offer to shake your hand but considering your current predicament I must advise against it and instead remind you to keep the ice on your shoulder for no longer than 15 to 20 minutes at a time. Do you have a physical therapist?”

“Aye, he does,” the bald headed man came forward once again, a hand on Jamie’s good shoulder. “And I’ll make sure he sees them on the morrow.”

“Wonderful,” Claire nodded with pleasure and turned back to Jamie, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Now, I believe you owe me a drink.”

A/N: Candy canes. Candy canes everywhere! From here we diverge from canon-adjacent and take a path that is much more Hallmark. // Are you looking forward to seeing what figurine will be waiting for Claire tomorrow?