Loss Ficlet: Cats

missclairebelle:

Anon request from eighteen years ago (July 7, 2018… it was July 7, 2018): I’d love a ficlet where Jamie and Claire, still getting to know each other, tell some of their most important secrets and discuss about life or such […]

This ficlet is smack dab between Boyfriend and Girlfriend.  I’m pulling myself out of a “I hate everything I write abyss.”  @sassenachwaffles and @kkruml fixed this for me. Along with @balfeheughlywed and @notevenjokingfic, they’ve been doing a lot of heavy lifting to fix me, to keep me going in this community, and to remedy my weirdness about writing lately. All of them deserve a lot of my love. 💜


Loss Ficlet
Cats
June 2016

On what was to date the warmest day of our first summer together (a day when sweat wicked across my hairline from the slight exertion of the uphill walk from my flat to work early in the morning), Jamie called me in the early afternoon.  

At that point, we had not really taken up hushed conversations in elevators and hallways in the middle part of the day.  Not knowing what to expect, I answered with over-eager, unsure fingers, and half-expected some emergency.

But he instead went headlong into hard selling me on abandoning my lunch of cafeteria tuna salad and soda water.  

A walk in the park. Some sunshine. A lunch from the line of food trucks that lined up in the park adjacent to the hospital, paid for by him.

Contrasted with the stack of paperwork on my desk and the two outpatient procedures on my afternoon calendar, I was an easy target for such a proposition.  

Tracing the beveled edge of my phone, I played coy, asking, “You’ll let me order whatever I want?”

His response had been cheerful, his breath loose between words. “Aye, whatever ye fancy.”

I bit down on my lip, and asked if was already walking over.

“Of course I am, Sassenach,” he said as though it were the most normal of occurrences for a Tuesday afternoon.

“Little bit presumptuous, don’t you think? Starting a walk over here before I’ve even said ‘yes’?”

He tutted a response to the accusation, turning the questions on me.  “The better question would be whether my favorite Sassenach doctor would ever say ‘no’ to a free lunch.”  

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