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themusicsweetly · 5 years ago

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[ @gastairfad prompted ] : After seeing Jamie dancing the Highland Fling, she decides to teach him the Charleston...

For my dear friend Barbara, who challenged me to my first ever Outlander fanfic prompt! I hope you enjoy!

When You Do Dance, I Wish You A Wave O’ The Sea

A 5x04 “The Company We Keep” Ficlet

Claire couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed that hard. Which might be a sad statement in itself, but it was so hard to care as she watched Jamie somehow both reluctantly and yet defiantly perform his best Highland Fling.

As he bowed to her once more — giving her a clear look that screamed never again — Claire raised her full glass of cider to him as the crowd raised their voices in cheer. She took a healthy swig as her husband came over and handed him the rest. She’d already had four— no, five mugs after all. Downing the nearly full cup in one long gulp, Jamie handed it off to the nearest person not really caring who and slung his arm over her slightly swaying frame.

Even if they hadn’t realized it at the time, it had been so since their very first moments together: their eyes need only connect for a second and instantly their thoughts were one, as synchronized as their hearts beating in unison. In the middle of the circle of people, their eyes met and their minds became set on one thing. Privacy.

Walking out of the town center and away from the crowds and music that impossibly began to take on a brass quality in Claire’s mind, they headed further into the woods. They made sure to also steer well clear of the militia’s camp. Neither had desire to be stalled by requests for Mac Dubh or his healer wife’s time. Not tonight. Tonight, their desires and duties only belonged to each other.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” Claire said with clear amusement in her voice. She leaned further into Jamie’s comforting warmth, enjoying the fizzy lightness overtaking her body. A giggle bubbled up from within her chest that she had no intention of stopping.

“And what’s so funny, Sassenach?” Jamie smiled down fondly at her, a glint of humor in his own eyes.

“My husband, that’s what. Nimble on his feet as he is in the sheets!”

Jamie burst out laughing at that, always happy to see the unabashed bawdiness come out when his wife was gone with drink. “Not sure that logic follows, Sassenach, but aye I catch yer meaning.” He took her hand then, spinning her out before pulling her back in and tucking her under his arm once again. She nestled in, fitting like a puzzle piece.

The two walked in companionable silence then, letting the overgrown path awash in moonlight be the only thing to guide them. Soon, Claire’s mind began filling with music again. This time it wasn’t the ragtag band of Hillsborough, but the brass of a jazz band belting out of a long forgotten phonograph. Two figures appeared in her mind’s eye. They stood in a living room so distant now as to almost be from someone else’s life. The furniture was haphazardly pushed aside, leaving a clear space in the middle of the carpeted room. The two figures, indistinct and yet so recognizable, moved to the upbeat music radiating pure happiness and love.

Claire faintly smiled as one of her earliest memories, and one of the only clear ones of her parents, washed over her.

“Sassenach? Where did ye go just now, mo nighean donn?”

Claire looked up to see Jamie peering down at her with an expression she remembered seeing on her father’s face often, every time he looked at her mother.

“Did I ever tell you there’s a dance from my time similar to the Highland Fling?”

Jamie looked intrigued at that. “Is there now? No, I dinna believe you have. Is it still done at gatherings, then?”

“Of a sort,” Claire laughed. “It is — well, will be — done in dance halls by couples. It’s also not quite the political statement either. Instead of a Fling, it’s a swing!” She snorted first at her own joke and then again at the bemused confusion marring his face. She had a feeling he was slightly more sober than she was, but had no intention of admitting to that. “And you,” she good-naturedly jabbed at his chest with her index finger, “most assuredly would consider it a ridiculous sight. Practically indecent, as well.”

“Oh, aye? And am I meant to believe my wholesome, proper wife partook in such activities?” He tried to keep a stern expression, but the tell-tale twitching in the corner of his mouth gave him away. If there was one thing Jamie enjoyed more than Claire’s drunken bawdiness, it was her uninhibited joy in moments like these. Their lives, while undeniably happy and blessed, didn’t always give way for such frivolity.

“No, I was a bit young at the time it was popular. But I remember my parents giving it a good go in our living room on the rare occasion they were feeling particularly whimsical. In fact, it’s one of the few clear memories I have of them, and even then it’s a bit hazy…” Claire’s sentence drifted off as she again became entranced in the memory of those two figures’ unrestrained happiness. “I was meant to be asleep, but I snuck out of bed to watch them from the stairs whenever I’d hear the music start playing.”

“A right rebel bairn you were.” Jamie stopped at a listing tree and draped his coat over its branch, turning with flair to face his wife. “Fair’s fair then. I danced my jig for you.” He swept his arms out in front of him with a daring smirk on his face, making it clear the forest stage was hers. His smirk faltered, though, when he noticed the answering mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Well now, if you had been listening you’d remember I said this was a dance for couples…” In an unexpected move Claire grabbed Jamie’s arms and pulled him closer, nearly knocking them both off their feet.

“This,” Claire said once they had righted themselves, her voice catching in between bouts of laughter, “is called the Charleston.”

She brought his hands up, placing them palm to palm with hers. His long fingers reached well over the end of her slim hand and Claire took a moment to appreciate the sight. She looked back up to his face, the soft smile taking over his features telling her that her moment of distraction didn’t go unnoticed.

With another tipsy giggle Claire began moving, humming a quieter and more reserved version of the song she remembered as her parents’ favorite. Kicking her leg, bent at the knee, to the side she took a step forward with one leg crossing in front of the other. Jamie in turn instinctively took a step back. She reversed her moves and Jamie mirrored her again. After a few cycles, Claire pressed her palms more firmly against Jamie’s guiding them to move in time with their steps.

She kept her eyes on his face appreciating his look of concentration while it was turned down to meticulously watch their steps. As if feeling her attention on him like it were a caress to his check, Jamie’s head tilted back up. Even in the dim moonlight he could tell her whisky brown eyes held a level of affection so strong he was sure she wasn’t even aware of it. Their movements slowed to a stop. He spread his fingers pressed against hers and entwined their hands together.

“Ridiculous though this Charleston may be,” Jamie started with a lopsided smirk as he put an extra English emphasis on the name, “I do enjoy when ye share a bit of yer time wi’ me. Almost as if I could travel through time like you or our wee Bree.”

“‘My time’…” she repeated back, softly. Claire studied him for a moment longer before gently pulling on his hands, causing him to step closer. “You know, I think it’s been a long while since I considered the 20th century as ‘my time.’”

“And why is that, Sassenach?” Jamie asked just as quietly.

“I was born then. Lived there for more years than not. Made a life then. But…” Claire first brought one of their joined hands to her lips, then the other, kissing Jamie’s knuckles tenderly. Hands that were scarred from toil. From trauma. Hands that protected her and loved her and cared for her. “I often think I didn’t find the time I truly belonged to until the moment I stepped through those stones. Until I met you,” she finished simply.

Jamie felt his heart break at her words, only to be reformed again stronger and beating with a rhythm dedicated to only her. Taking his hands from hers, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tilted his head until their foreheads met.

“Wherever you are— whenever you are, James Fraser,” Claire whispered, her breath mingling with his, “you are my home.” Those words held their own time traveling powers. First spoken all those years ago as an admission, then with crushing resignation, and now again as a promise. “And I am grateful for every day we have.”

Finally closing the short distance between them, Jamie captured Claire’s lips in a dance neither had to be taught, both having learned the steps by heart together a lifetime ago.

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