Chapter Text
My eyes felt tired, I looked down at my pharmacology textbook and the stack of flash cards I was making. Preferred anesthetic, pre mature atrial contraction (PAC), premature ventricular contraction (PVC), proarrhythmia, prodrug, pro hormone. I closed my eyes, rubbing the sides of my temples. I could see the terms engrained on the back of my eyelids. I opened my eyes, yawning, glancing down at my watch. 1:10AM. Another late night in the medical school library, this class and my clinical rotations were actually going to be the death of me.
“Give yourself a break Beauchamp.” I said to myself. After having enough study time on a Friday night, I closed my text book shut and slipped my laptop and flash cards into my tote-bag. I checked my phone as I stood up and started to slide my jacket on.
I smiled as a text from Joe Abernathy, my lab partner from my biochemistry class when we were first year med students, appeared on the screen.
‘LJ we’re down at Church playing darts and pool. Stop by for a drink or two after you’ve studied your brains out, it’s a Friday — you deserve it!’
I picked up my tote, sliding the chair back under the desk, and texted him a quick reply.
‘Just finished the terms for pharmacology through P…Still have a lot more to do. I don’t think I will join you all tonight. Brain is fried, don’t feel like being social. Rain check.’
I was tired, over worked, and felt like my brain had been fried. I didn’t think I could muster energy to join the rest of the second years— all I wanted was a stiff glass of something strong and to crawl into my bed and sleep for the rest of the weekend.
‘Will hold you to that, Lady Jane. Text me when you get home safe.’
‘Will do’ I replied as I started to make the somewhat short walk back to my flat. I did want a night cap for the night, but sighed as I turned on to 11th Street realizing the packaging store was closed.
“Obviously it’s closed you’ve been studying for the last 7 hours.” I muttered to myself under my breath. I was cold, it was February in Scotland and I was not wearing my heavy jacket. I made a mental note to always keep a scarf and gloves on me. I clutched my coat closer to my body as I made my way down a few more blocks.
I was creeping closer to my apartment and practically raised the white flag on getting my nightcap as I fumbled in my tote bag for my keys. Then I remembered there was that little dive bar on the block behind my building. “Ah, good thought.” I muttered to myself as I turned onto my street, and walked around the block to the bar.
I saw the little neon ‘open’ sign and smiled, looks like I could still get a little buzz before calling it a night. I opened the door to the bar and took in its surroundings. A total dive bar it was, but there was an ambiance that made it almost homey, something that made it very welcoming.
There were dark oak floors and exposed brick on the wall. The place was small, less than 1000 square feet. The lights were old whisky bottles, giving a brown hue to the room. There was a beautiful bar with dark oak that matched the floor and a few tables scattered through out. Being so late, I was surprised to find three of the tables taken by a few people, but respectively found the bar to be empty. This was just the place for my nightcap, I thought to myself, no one would bother me here.
I took a seat at the far end of the bar. I hadn’t seen the bartender yet so I reached across to the little bowl of Chex-Mix. After nibbling on a few pieces, I looked up at the spirits lined on the wall. There was brandy, cognac, tequila, and vodka, and as I looked further down was very impressed with the whisky collection. I got up from my seat walking half way down the bar to admire the selection of whisky a bit more: Monkey Shoulder Blended Malt Scotch, Bushmills Black Bush Whisky, Compass Box Hedonism Quindecimus Whisky, a Glen Alba 22 year old, a Laphroaig Quarter Cask, Benromach 10 year old, Tomatin 12 year old, I continued down admiring the bottles, noted some of my personal favorites, when I was interrupted by a voice behind me.
“Like what ye see there, lass?” A soft Scottish voice asked behind me. Catching me a bit off guard, I startled a bit and turned around.
A tall, redheaded, through and through Scot looked at me with these deep blue eyes. He was so beautiful, it was almost like looking at the statue of David itself.
“I, uh…. I’m sorry. You startled me. What did you ask?” I said, being completely honest. I blushed a little, this man was staring at me up and down, and straight at me— I could barely make direct eye contact with him without feeling uneasy.
“Aye, it’s fine. I just asked if ye like what ye see.” The man said as he pointed to the array of whisky.
Feeling his graze move off me to the whiskies lined on the wall, I was able to think in a more coherent pattern.
“Yes, I was just admiring the whisky selection. Some great choices here and actually a few of my favorites.” I said as I turned and started to walk back to my seat. I really could not be bothered by some guy in a bar, tonight of all nights — all I had wanted was to be alone.
But, I heard the quiet steps of the large redheaded Scot, as he seemingly followed me to my seat. About to say something, ask what he wanted, and tell him rightfully if he wanted my number he was surely not going to get it— I stopped as I watched the Scot walked behind the bar.
“Weel, what can I get ye to drink then, Sassenach?” The redhead asked me.
“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?” I asked the question evident on my face.
“Och, Sassenach. Tis what ye are, an English lady, not from Scotland. I ken tell from your accent.” He said, smiling as he placed his hands on the bar making direct eye contact with me again
“Do you come up with pet names for every customer in this place?” I asked, feeling the temperature in my cheeks start to flare. (God, I must look like a fire truck right now.)
The man did not miss a beat. “No.” He said, simply as a matter of fact. “But ye… Weel yer something different.”
“Well, tonight I’m just a girl in a bar. Who really wants a glass of something stiff.” I said, looking down at my hands.
“Weel, tonight I’m just a bartender, ye ken. Who can help get this Sassenach a glass of something strong.” The man said as he turned to pick up a glass. “Which one would ye like?”
“I think tonight I will go with Glen Alba. Neat please. And make it a double.” I said, putting my hands on my temples and rubbing them, good god I was exhausted.
But I found myself sitting in the bar in an irrevocably good mood, there was just something about this bartender—this man— this Scot. The way he carried himself, his cheekbones, those blue eyes…. I watched him as he quietly turned on his heel, walking the few feet down to where the whisky was. He opened the bottle, poured me a double and then I saw him pour a second glass.
Gingerly he picked up the two glasses and walked back over to where I was seated. He passed me my glass and then picked up the other one.
Again he looked at me directly in the eyes — it felt as if he was looking right into the depths of my soul— and it made my stomach go uneasy.
“Weel, Sassenach. There’s yer double. Ye look like ye need it. Slainte.” He said as he tipped his glass towards mine.
“Slainte.” I replied as I clinked my glass with his.
“Ye may be a Sassenach, but ye do ken how to cheers and drink a proper Scottish whisky, so maybe there is hope for ye yet.” The gentleman said as he took a small sip of his glass.
“I like my drinks aged and strong. Medical school is driving me up a wall and all these hours doing clinicals and following doctors around, and biochemistry and pharmacology. Did you know I’ve spent the lat 3 Fridays in a row at the library? That’s where I was before here….. The library till one AM. Good god.” I said and then took a sip of the whisky. I smiled as I swallowed it and let the slow burn warm me up. “But you didn’t need to know any of that… I just rambled for no good reason.” I said shyly. Who was this man I was talking to and why was I rambling like a love struck teenager?
“Yer a doctor, then?” The bartender asked coming round the corner sitting down next to me.
“Not exactly. I will be, one day.” I answered taking another sip.
“One day.” The bartender said as he took one sip and finished his whisky. I saw him fumble with his phone in his pocket and then set it on the bar. “Och. It’s nearly 2 AM.” He said. I watched him as he stood up and turned to the three tables of people behind us.
“Rupert, Angus, Murtagh and Dougal….Last call ye wee bastards.”
I turned my head slightly and watched as the men all shook their heads and took the last sips of their drinks. I turned back to my drink, throwing down the last sip, and went to pull out my wallet from my bag.
I was stopped as I felt the large hand of the Scot touch my shoulder softly.
“Dinna fash, Sassenach. This one’s on the house tonight.” The Scot said as he smiled at me.
“Thank you.” I said. And then suddenly, my coat was in his hands and he was helping into it. I nodded, grabbing my bag from the hook and started to walk out. He followed closely behind me and went and turned the neon ‘open’ sign off. The Scot politely opened the door for me.
“Next time ye come here, dinna come so close to closing time. I would love to hear some more of yer story.” He said as I stepped right outside the door. I wistfully looked back over my shoulder and smiled.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I replied as I saw him smile and shut the door locking it behind him.
Feeling warmed in my core — whether it be from the whisky or from that man, I wasn’t sure. I did however know, I would be back again soon, and found myself very eager to learn more about this Scottish bartender.
I walked back to my apartment and shot Joe a text.
‘Just got home, safe. Door is locked. Will call later.’
I walked to my bedroom and stripped myself out of my jeans and alma mater sweatshirt as I slid into my pajamas and then hunkered myself into bed. I turned off the light and found myself smiling as I slid off into oblivion.