Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Claire

There are fewer things I love more about my job than collapsing into my bed exhausted from a hard day’s worth of work. My residency at the Massachusetts General Hospital provided me with that satisfaction easily; I was also provided with a way to escape from the reality of my non-existent social life in exchange for helping people in need. Still, tonight I was feeling restless and lonely, despite having been surrounded by other residents all day. And grimy. And I needed a hair cut, I thought absently as I pushed my messy curls out of my face and into a mostly broken clip. It was time to admit that I was working too many days in a row and that it was starting to get to me.

I decided to forgo checking the mail and head straight to bed. I shared a flat just off Harvard’s campus, a small two-bedroom that I only saw for a few minutes before collapsing into a coma, most of the time. I could feel the pull of a hot shower as I opened the door to my flat, unconsciously calculating how many hours I had been up. I had settled on twenty-six when I realized I wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Geillis Duncan, my flatmate and one of my best friends, was standing over the sink eating from a bowl of strawberries while sorting through a large stack of our mail. Mail I had definitely ignored for far too long, I realized guiltily. She looked up and gave me a wild smile, taking in my disheveled scrubs and knotted hair. “Good evening, deary,” she greeted me in her light yet sultry voice.

I smiled back as she tossed her shiny long red hair over her shoulder, showing off her sharp cheeks and pale skin. “Hello, Gilly,” I responded. Unlike me, she looked flawless in a pinstripe business suit, which apparently included a vest, and matching heels. I rarely saw my flatmate these days, between my hours and her jobs, something that pained me a bit of course, but did she really have to show me up like this? Not that she dressed this way for my irritation, but rather she felt that male students were easier to take down if they thought she was some bimbo who got by on just her looks. I didn’t understand how any man could look into her green eyes and not see the constant calculating.

We had met several years ago in undergrad - we had been paired up as roommates and campus buddies due to both of us being international students that had started at Harvard at the same time. It wasn’t long before she became one of my closest friends, though I was the first to admit that even years later, I didn’t entirely trust her.

“How was work?” she asked in a strangely perky voice. She moved my stack of mail towards the end of the counter and pulled hers closer to her, placing two large envelopes at the bottom of her stack.

I put my jacket and purse on the wall hooks, then walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water and offered it to Geillis before pulling out one for me as well. “Work was…..exhausting,” I replied, leaning against the fridge. “But good. I know I say this every new rotation, but Jesus H.R. Christ I am glad to be off the ER.” I had moved on to pediatrics neonatal, which I honestly didn’t care for either, but it was almost done and was my last rotation for this round. I was going to have to declare a specialty soon too and decide if I was going to find a fellowship. I took a swig from the bottle and asked, “How was teaching today?”

Geillis smiled, eating another strawberry. She was a political science major, working on her doctorate while TA’ing for the hardest professor in the department, or so she said. She also had a side job that wasn’t quite legal, but I didn’t press for details. She didn’t bring drugs into our apartment, I had never had to get her out of jail, and so I didn’t need any further details. Plus I knew it was just a means to an end; her true passion was political history and law. She wanted to change the world.

“Undergrads are obnoxious, and now that midterms are coming up they’re all sweet talking me up.” She giggled a little, a sound I knew as her taking way too much enjoyment in watching her students squirm. She opened a few envelops, separating her mail into further stacks.

“What are those?” I asked, gesturing to the envelops she tried to hide.

She grabbed them and then hesitating before looking back up at me. “I think they’re something you aren’t going to like,” she replied honestly, before handing one over.
I held the thick envelope, my name “Claire Beauchamp” printed in fancy script on the front. The return address didn’t look familiar, but I opened it anyways. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion of the long day, but it took me far too long to process what I was looking at. An ivory and lace invitation sat in my hands and read:

Mr. And Mrs. Matthew Travers
Request the pleasure of your company
At the marriage of their daughter
Sandra Travers to Franklin Randall
Son of Mr. And Mrs. Jonathan Randall
At Northside Farm, Horsley
On Seventeenth, June, 2019

My heart felt like it was sinking and speeding up at the same time. My scrubs felt too hot and itchy against my skin. I knew this day would come eventually - how often did I stare at the pictures of Frank and Sandy on Facebook and Instagram and feel the tiniest bit of jealousy, even though I had ended it with Frank years ago?

I turned it over in my hand, as if the back would hold some deceptively brilliant idea of what to do. In my panic haze, I noticed the envelope and RSVP were addressed directly to me - not to Geillis and me. I pointed this out to her, my brain unable to grasp much else.

“Oh, well….yes,” she said, holding out a second heavy ivory envelope addressed to her specifically. “I got a plus one as well.”
The double invitations felt like a weird insult. By sending us both an invitation with plus ones, I couldn’t just bring Gilly as my “date.” I also knew Frank well enough to know it wasn’t an intentional insult, but most likely the opposite. He felt like he was doing me a favor and extending yet another olive branch in our strained friendship.

“I can’t not go to this, can I, Gilly?” I asked. She lifted an eyebrow as she ate yet another strawberry, but didn’t respond immediately.

“You don’t owe Frank much,” she said slowly, “but proper etiquette dictates that you should consider going to the wedding of the man whose heart you broke, if he so kindly requests.”

I groaned loudly in response. She had a point - I valued the friendship Frank and I had forged after our messy breakup way too much to immediately decline without thinking about it. “Do you want to go?” She and Frank had not been close friends, but rather cordial for my benefit. Frank really was being sweet by inviting her for my comfort. Or for the gift.

Geillis shrugged. I couldn’t read the expression on her face, though it was clearly conflicted. After a few moments of thought, she put down her bottle of water and leaned passed me, opening the cabinet door next to my head. “We are going to need whiskey to discuss this.” She smiled, pouring doubles into tumblers. She handed me a glass, then directed me toward our living room while carrying the bottle.

I kicked off my shoes as I flopped into my favorite chair, my feet swing off the arm like I was a child. I took a large swig of the whiskey, waiting for Geillis to continue.

Instead, she watched me in silence for a few minutes, as if waiting to see how I would react. The whiskey warmed my chest, releasing some of the tension in my body. I let my hair down, my curls taking a life of their own. Married. My Frank was getting married. And a small part of me I wasn’t ready to deal with was crushed that it wasn’t to me.

“The wedding is in north England, aye?” I nodded in response. Geillis sipped her whiskey, then said, “Frank is your ex, which is a good excuse not to go, or,” she crossed her legs and leaned back, “this wedding is a good reason for both of us to go home for a long vacation.” I scoffed, shaking my head, but she continued before I could respond. “We go to this wedding, dance and drink the night away, we run around England and Scotland and maybe France, we have a few summer flings, and we come back ready to get back to business. The wedding is at end of term for me; you will be on break applying for fellowships. We could easily sublease the apartment to summer students or put it on airbnb and go visit our families and the homeland for a few weeks.”

She was right, I realized. And I could see in her eyes that she was trying to hide how much she wanted this, in case I really didn’t want to go to the wedding. I felt a surge of appreciation at her loyalty despite her obvious homesickness. But she was right - the wedding was a perfect excuse to also spend time with Uncle Lamb, my surrogate father. It was also an opportunity to visit a few hospitals and set up interviews for potential fellowships. I missed England, just as much as I knew she missed Scotland.

“Okay,” I conceded, draining my glass. “I’ll think it over. And I’ll give Uncle Lamb a call to see if he minds having two guests in his flat for the summer.”
“You don’t have to bring a date you know,” Geillis said, not looking at me. “That just means we can find some fun lads there. Maybe a couple of groomsmen.”
I raised an eyebrow at that and refilled my glass, getting up off the chair. “That is for tomorrow’s worry. Right now I have a date with a handsome pillow.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Jamie

I ran to the small airplane as its propellers slowed down to a stop. I clapped the lad on his back as he got out of the plan, a wide grin on on both of our faces.

“See, not as hard as you thought it would be!” I laughed. Alec gave me an awkward side hug before pumping his fist in the air.

“It was AWESOME!” He did a happy dance before coming back up to me. “I was so nervous at first, but I remembered everythin’ you said to keep steady. I canna wait to go back up!” I laughed again. Even though I was generally an easy going guy, his joy was infectious.

“Okay, calm down for a second, lad. What did I teach you post flight?”

“That while the CAA doesn’t have a required post-flight checklist, Jamie does and who do you want to piss aff more?” Alec recited the words I had taught him for the last twenty or so hours of flight as he began to block the airplane wheel.

I couldn’t stop grinning at my student. I hadn’t been teaching long, but every time one of my kids got to their solo stage or actual license, I felt like weirdly like a proud father.

After I helped Alec check the oil and put the airplane back in the hangar, I finished up some paper work on Alec and checked my schedule for tomorrow’s students. It was supposed to be typical Scottish deary day, and I needed to be sure my pilots were trained enough to deal with it. I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a text from one of my roommates and oldest friends Ian Murray. I opened it, figuring he was checking when I got off work. Since I came back to Scotland eight months ago, we had regularly gotten dinner or drinks. Right about his text, I responded telling him I would meet him in about an hour at our usual pub.

I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling it standing up with my curls sticking out everywhere. It was starting to curl around my ears, and I vaguely contemplated a hair cut. However, it felt good to not have my hair buzzed anymore, so I kept putting it off. Distracted, I looked around the office for my keys for my bike so I could head over to the pub. No use starting a trip down memory lane.

***

I took the scenic ride to the pub as we didn’t get a ton of days with this nice of weather. I had bought the bike shortly after my return home, an ill advised purchase if you asked my older sister, Jenny. Given how frequently I rode in the rain, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Not that I would tell her.

I had beat Ian and our other roommate John to the pub, unsurprisingly. Ian worked as an irrigation engineer and frequently had meetings outside and up in the Highlands. John Grey, my other best friend and roommate, worked in diplomatic relationships. He basically was always working and always late for social gatherings. I grabbed our usual table in the corner, setting down my helmet and leather jacket.

While waiting for them, I headed over to the bar to buy the first round of drinks. I gave the usual waitress, Catriona, a smile and a wink as I pulled out my wallet. “How’s it going, Cat?”

She pulled out three mugs and began pouring our usuals. “Not too bad yit. Where are th’ boys?”

“Should be any minute.” I pulled out a few pounds and put them on the bar, tipping generously. Catriona put the mugs in front of me, leaning on the bar to give me a tempting view. She had become bolder in her flirting over the past view visits, and I couldn’t deny I was tempted.

“I get off at 10,” she said with a wink, picking up the money. I smiled, grabbing the mugs. Catriona would be fun, and I really liked the idea of getting in some fun soon. I had been living like a monk since I got back to Scotland. It was starting to get old.

Maybe I would actually take her up on the offer tonight.

I was still smiling at the possibility as I placed the beers in front of Ian and John. They had clearly just arrived as they were shedding off their winter layers. I knew then that while the thought of hooking up with the bartender seemed tempting, I was more likely close the night and go home with these two.

“Hey!” I laughed as Ian shook water out of his hair. “Watch th’ beers.” John clasped my shoulder in a greeting before taking one of the mugs from me.

“Cheers, mate,” he said before taking a swig. “How did your young pilot’s solo flight go?”

“Yeah it was a tidy flight, well done. He’s got a few months before he can apply for his license, but I think his pilot dreams are solidly on there way. What about ye two? Work going well?”

“Aye. I actually ran by yer uncle’s farm today. Was in the area. Collum sends his regards,” Ian said.

“Oh yeah? How’s the farm lookin’?” My uncles had two of the largest farms in the Highlands, which caused some less than friendly competitions. But they both called upon Ian when they needed help, so JEnny and I Stayed out of it.

“Not bad. They’re considerin’ switchin’ out the backfield for a new crop. Collum is offerin’ me a contract later this year actually.”

“That’s amazing news!” John exclaimed, clinking his mug against Ian’s.

“Yeah, gettin’ enough contracts that you’re considering making an honest woman out of my sister?” I teased. Ian and my sister Jenny had been dating officially for the better part of the last decade, though we could all agree it had been going on probably our whole lives. And while he did technically live with John and me, he and Jenny had started looking for a place of their own.

My sister was nothing short of impressive. She had started an online bakery that had been successful enough to open up a small shop. She worked insane hours and currently lived in an apartment above the shop. When I wasn’t having dinner with my roommates, I was having dinner with her as often as possible.

“Er, well, speaking of…” John started, looking at Ian, trailing off. Ian shook his head slightly and glanced at me.

“You didn’ propose and not tell me did you?”

“Good lord no,” Ian laughed nervously. “I dun have a death wish.”
“You both look like someone’s tryin’ to kill us and yer too scared to tell me.” I took a long swig from my glass. “Spill it.”

Ian and John exchanged a long look before John pulled an envelope out of his pocket. A thick, ornate envelope with my name and our address in calligraphy.

“Who’s getting married?” I asked, recognizing the telltale signs of a wedding invitation. My mother’s side had a few too many cousins - weddings were a regular occurrence. I slid open the envelope and pulled out the blue tinted vintage wedding invitations and read over it quickly. “Oh - Annalise is finally marrying Charles? This is great news!” I was truly excited for her, even if she was marrying the guy she left me for. John looked instantly relieved, but Ian shifted, still uncomfortable.

“Did you boys not get an invite?” I was still confused at their discomfort. Annalise had practically grown up with Ian, Jenny, and me, and she had taken to John quicker than I had in college. She also still remained the sweetest and most kind hearted person I had ever known. Never had raised her voice at anyone, even at her brothers.

“We are also invited,” Ian confirmed and drained his beer. “It is that….I was talking to Jenny this afternoon. Anna asker her to be her maid of honor.” An obvious choice, of course. Jenny and Annalise had been best friends since Anna’s family had moved from France when we were eight. “But she also asked Laoghaire to be a bridesmaid.”

I swore under my breath. No wonder Ian was hesitant to tell me about this. Laoghire was one of the reasons Annalise and I had broken up. She was bad news then, and I did not want to find out how much worse she had gotten since.

“I have an idea,” John piped in. “Look, the wedding is soon. I assume that you have not brought up any lady friends because you have suddenly gained an ounce of modesty?”

“No, I’m not datin’ anyone,” I confirmed, rolling my eyes. “What of it?”

John pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen. “There is this new app out that allows you essentially trade faux relationship experiences. It is geared towards ‘millennials’ who are trying to get their parents off their backs, or need a partner for a business dinner or something. It is new and still kind of in beta testing mode, and is supposed to be platonic. But it could be a way for you to bring a date to Annalise’s wedding without having to risk mixed signals if you start dating someone?” John showed me the app’s “About me” page, essentially showing me the same thing he had explained.

“I dun know about this,” I said hesitantly. “It still seems risky.”

“No no, they run background checks on everyone that signs up. Plus I would be willing to keep an eye on your account and run additional background checks if you would like.” He went to take another drink from his now empty glass. “I have used the service in the past. For when I needed a plus one last minute, and the co-workers I was meeting up with were not very….progressive.”

I nodded understanding. “Aye. If you’ll help me vet them, I am willin’ to give this a try. But If it gets too weird, we close the account.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Claire

Even on my days off, I set an alarm on my phone. I hate myself even more on days when I have stayed up late chatting with Geillis and drinking whiskey, like I did last night. The whiskey had caused some seriously weird dreams about Frank. But while part of me would love nothing more than to steel until noon, these were the days I had to tackle the important and mundane things such as laundry and bills and my half of the chores.

God bless Geillis, I thought while stretching. She never complains on the weeks she had to pick up my slack.

I did some mental math as I yawned, rolling out of bed. I wasn’t too sure where my uncle was these days, but it was early enough here that I shouldn’t be risking waking him up. I was fairly certain he was on “vacation” in Greece, if not Croatia. Still, a text message was a safer bet. I reached for my phone and typed out a quick message as I walked to the kitchen.

UP FOR A VIDEO CHAT LATER? X

I sat my phone on the counter and filled up the kettle, then grabbed some eggs and lox. My phone buzzed as I finished up scrambling the eggs. I pushed the screen with my elbow to see my uncle’s response.

SURE LOVE. I’LL RING YOU AT 3 PM YOUR TIME.

SOUNDS PERFECT. GOT SOME EXCITING NEWS! X

I smiled as I put my phone down, digging back into my eggs and toast. I hadn’t seen my uncle in nearly a year, when he last swung through the United States. He didn’t care for Boston, but did love the rest of the Northeast. We spent some time in Maine on the coast in a peaceful cottage while I studied for some finales and he worked on his latest book.

My uncle had, more or less, been my father figure since I was 6. During the summer, my parents died in a car crash while on holiday in Ireland without me. They had taken a late honeymoon — conceiving a child out of wedlock and a shotgun marriage would do that to you. Still, from what everyone told me, they were ridiculously, sickeningly in love, and had loved me too. Which is why they waited until I was 6 before taking their honeymoon…they finally felt like they could leave me without worry.

Even after twenty some odd years, I was still partially bitter that they had gone on vacation without me, even while I logically knew it could have meant my own early death. They had left me at my Uncle Lamb’s house, the only sibling of either of my parents. He has always been an eternal bachelor. Part of me believe it was because of his career, and part of me believed he didn’t want to complicate my life any further. Either way, he had given me the best childhood I could have. Until 5 years ago he had spent his life traveling as an archaeologist, working on proving a correlation between the similarities of two ancient cultures on two very different continents. I had traveled with him, technically home schooled through an online program that was exhaustively easy. I learned more out on the digs and talking to the people my uncle worked with more than I ever had online.

And yet, I had craved stability. I had wanted to get a proper college degree. And I was intrigued by American culture as it was one I had never experienced. At least, that’s what I pretend.

Five years ago my uncle decided to technically retire and write Indiana Jones-like novels. They’re bestselling novels despite the heavy lean on the archaeology terminology. I have all of them, in various languages even. I can’t help but be his biggest fan.

Strangely enough, after a lifetime of traveling for work and passion, he cannot sit at home to write a novel. He must travel to a new country as he works on each book. I think it’s just an excuse for him to not sit at home, but whatever it is it works for him.

I smile briefly at some fading memory as I put my plate in the dishwasher and pull my hair up, making a mental checklist in my head of what I needed to get done today. Laundry, some bills to pay, lunch with my best friend Joe, grocery run. Talk to Uncle Lamb. Clean the kitchen. Sleep as much as possible. I had a nagging feeling I was missing something, but after a few minutes of pacing and wiping down the counter, I couldn’t figure out what it was. Nothing important, I guess.

After loading up our dishwasher and running a few loads through the washer and dryer, I showered and got dressed for lunch with Joe. We have had a standing lunch date for years now, since we met in undergrad and had been paired up as biology lab partners. Occasionally his now wife Gail would join us, when she wasn’t busy with her law practice. Or incredibly pregnant, as she currently was.

As the weather was getting warmer, I decided to walk over to our regular spot, a decent Korean place. Which is also next door to a great pizza place, in case one of us wasn’t feeling like some kimchi. There is also a wonderful bench that gets just enough sunlight that I’ve studied many days on.

As it was my day off, and I had promised Joe that I would not study or do anything intelligent on my days off (especially where he could see me) I pulled out a worn out copy of an abridged Count of Monte Cristo. It has been my favorite book since I was a kid, and while I did prefer it in unabridged, it wasn’t worth carrying around that big of a book. Joe tapped me on my warmed shoulder just as I was getting lost in prison with Edmund. “Hey!” I stood up and hugged Joe.

“Good afternoon, L.J.!” Joe laughed as he hugged me back. “It is good to see you out of scrubs.”

“You as well! Especially the bloody ones from yesterday. I don’t think I’ll be getting that image out of my mind anytime soon. Unless you want to pretend it was pizza sauce?” I pointed to the pizza shop for emphasis. He nodded and gestured for me to lead. “How is your ER rotation going?”

“It’s going well. I think I still want to stick with surgery, but I am actually loving the energy in the ER. Minus the number of kids who are shoving things up their nose.” We both waved at the owner as we took our favorite booth. Joe paused midway sitting down. “My… kid is going to stick something up his nose for every time I laugh at a kid right now, isn’t he?”

I laughed at that. I had seen my fair share of nose marbles and beans. “Remind me not to have children if that’s the karma pay out?”

We looked over the menu before settling on our normal meals - veggie lasagna for Joe, a small pepperoni and mushroom pizza for me. The waitress took our menus as I fidgeted with my watch band. Joe noticed and nodded at my arm. “What’s up?”

“Any chance Gail can do without you for a week or so next month whilst you accompany me to a wedding?” I flashed a charming smile, hoping that he could tell I was teasing.

“Who’s getting married?” Joe munched on some bread.

“Frank,” I sighed. Joe’s eyes got wider. “He and Sandy are tying the knot.”

“Wow. I guess that is a long time coming. And he invited you?”

I nodded, picking up a piece of my own bread. “He invited Geillis too, so I can’t bring her as my plus one. Want to go hang out in London with us slightly buzzed for days on end to get through this while your wife is home with your first child, the heir to your family fortune and all things?”

“Not even a little bit,” Joe laughed. “You forget, I know Frank. And his asshole of a twin brother, Jack. After what went down between the two of us, I don’t think Frank would want my drama at his wedding.”

I tried to smile at that, but he wasn’t wrong. Jack had caused so much chaos, his parents had held his trust fund hostage until he came back to England. I shook my head, not wanting to relive those memories. “Yeah I definitely don’t want to go alone to this with Jack being there. And there’s no way Frank is getting married without…” Joe was shaking his head before I could finish my question.

But then he gave me a quizzical look. “Aren’t you dating someone, L.J.? For a couple of months now? Can’t you just invite him? What’s his name again?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Claire

I blanked for a moment, not a clue what Joe meant. Then I realized I WAS dating a guy, and actually had dinner plans with him this evening. “Oh, god, Matthew,” I put my head in my hands. “I completely forgot about him.”

Joe laughed at my expression, setting down the piece of bread and wiping tears from his eyes. “Are you serious? You forgot about a man?”

I sighed and took a long drink of water. “I keep meaning to end things with him. I was lonely, wanted someone to go out with occasionally. But he’s just… boring,” I groaned. “I can’t bring him to the wedding. Jesus H, Joe, I forgot I had dinner plans with this man tongiht,” I whisper at him, scandalized, as he laughed.

We stopped chatting for a moment as the waitress brought over our lunches. I added some pepper flakes to mine. We sat in silence for a few minutes, eating. Joe put his fork down for a second and looked at me seriously.

“Claire.” Joe rarely used my actual name, unless it is something incredibly serious. I looked up from my slice of pizza, a bit confused. “I’ve seen the paper work on your desk. I know there is a fellowship out there near your uncle that you’ve been considering. Are you going to try to get an interview while out there?”

Joe and I never talk about the possibility of me returning back to England. And part of me couldn’t imagine working in medicine without him by my side. But I also knew I couldn’t lie to him about what I was considering, even if it meant putting a clock on our time together. “I don’t know. That’s a lie. I am considering it, but I don’t know if I would want it. I miss my uncle, and it would be good to spend some time in England. But I’ve only practiced here, and Boston has been more of a home for me than England ever was.”

He nodded silently, stabbing a piece of noodle and cheese. Then he looked up at me with a smile. “You should go for it. It is an amazing program, and you would do wonders in it. And then you can come back and teach me everything you learn.” I laughed a bit at that.

“Okay, enough sentimental talk. Tell me about the surgery yesterday.” Joe laughed and launched right into the surgery, fully detailed. We both ate and laughed as we discussed various surgeries we had talked about numerous times, neither one of us shying away from our food or the gory details.

A few hours later I was settled on our apartment’s porch, my feet in fluffy house shoes and propped up on the plastic table. I had a few binders out with medical journal printouts strewn all over the place, things I should be studying, but instead I was staring out into space. Our porch was in the perfect spot. It gets enough sunlight, but not direct enough that we would burn up sitting outside.

My phone jarred me out of whatever daydream I was in. I looked down at the time, realizing it was my uncle calling. I hastily picked up and shouted “Uncle Lamb!” at the screen.

“Hello, hello deary.”

“Oh you…you have the camera backwards. Hit the button…” I laughed trying to direct him to turn the camera around.

“Ah yes. I am starting to understand these phones. Now I can see you too. All is well?”

“All is. And you?”

“Everything here is dry. I miss the rain. Who ever thinks that?” he took a long pull from his cigarette. “So you don’t usually need to talk outside of our weekly scheduled chat. Everything okay?”

“Oh yes, of course! Did I worry you?” He made a face to imply that I hadn’t, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. “No, actually, Geillis and I got invited to a wedding in a few months. In June, actually. And well, it’s between her classes and my rotations… well, we were wondering if you had some time to host a few uni girls for a month or so.”

“Oh my dear, that sounds lovely!” He leaned over the phone, giving me a close up of his shirt for a second, then came back with his black binder. “What dates are you thinking? I am traveling a bit at the beginning of the month.”

“Um, maybe the 9th? Sometime that week. This was pretty much put into motion last night, but checking to see if you and your place is available was priority one.”

“Everything is available even if I am not here. You know that. Who’s wedding is it?”

“You know I would be terribly sad to come home and not see you. Even if I would throw a party every night in your flat.” I sigh and play with my ear before responding. “It is Frank’s wedding.”

I see my uncle’s face droop slightly, and my heart drops with it. I knew he loved Frank, but I really had hoped he had stopped holding out hope we would get back together. He was the one to introduce us, after all. I shake that thought out of my head for now and decide to ignore his reaction to the news.

“Anyways, Geillis and I were both invited and want to remind ourselves why we ran away from home. I’ll send you flight information when I have some?”

“Sounds great. I’ll try to remember to look at my email later this week.” He looked at someone off screen and held up a finger. “Claire, my dinner date is here. I’ll call you on Sunday, okay?” He waved and hung up, leaving me smiling. Dinner date. It was good to see my uncle getting back out there. Perhaps I had missed all the signs of him dating while I was growing up.

I went back to laying around my porch after opening a bottle of wine. I peered through some articles on new medications geared towards upper respiratory diseases and the side effects, but my heart wasn’t into it like it normally was. I was focused on Frank and my time with him.

Had I messed up? Had I been wrong to end it? Usually when I get like this, Geillis is here to help me out of it. But she was working late at a protest on campus - I vaguely remembered I was to keep an eye out in order to bail her out. And I didn’t need her to remind me that I was looking at everything through rosy colored glasses.

I pulled up my Facebook up and scroll through it for the first time in weeks. Are there any guys on here I can talk into going to the wedding with me? Realistically… no. I had maybe 150 friends, and talk to next to none of them that lived in the UK. Frustrated, I switch to text messaging and pour another glass of wine. I was going to need to find some food - and maybe get inside as the sun had almost gone down entirely and I was getting chilly.

I NEED A DATE TO THIS WEDDING. HEEEEEEELP. X

I shoot off a text to both Joe and Geillis as I scoop up all of my mess and drop it on the coffee table to sort out. I kick off my fluffy slipper and pull my hair back, throwing on my threadbare university hoodie. Perfect comfort for an evening in. I put my laptop on the couch and clean up the living room a bit. I was fluffing some pillows when my phone chirped.

JOE
MY WIFE SAYS IF YOU CARRY THE BABY I CAN GO.

I laugh and type back.

CLAIRE
HAVE TO PASS. ANY OTHER IDEAS? X

JOE
SHE SAYS TO CHECK OUT THIS WEBSITE.

GEILLIS
COME DOWN TO THE PROTEST AND CHAT SOME GUYS UP. X

CLAIRE
PASS ON THE PROTEST. HIT ME UP WITH THIS WEBSITE. X

Joe sends over the link, and I make a mental note to buy them even more baby stuff. Not that I hadn’t spent too much money already - I just loved baby shoes. I open it up and laugh. It’s a matching service for essentially faux partners from the looks of it. Sure, it isn’t advertised that way - “a matching service so you don’t have to answer those awkward questions as to why you are single!” or some asinine concept. I love it.

CLAIRE
I OWE YOU BOTH A POST-BABY BEER. X

I create a profile and pick the free option, while also claiming that I’m already in the UK for obvious reasons. A screen filled with questions popped up. I groaned slightly - this is going to feel like a job interview and a bad first date rolled into one.

“Who am I?” That one is easy. Claire, a Brit living in American studying medicine.

“What am I looking for?” Maybe a little less easy. “I need a date for a wedding in June” seems too desperate to type. “In need of someone to provide moral support during a few events over the summer.” There, that feels a little less…desperate.

“Six things I could never do without” Strong Earl Grey tea, penicillin, a map, puppies, the chips at the diner around from my flat, and running shoes.

“What do you do to keep sane?” Hobbies? Should I make up some hobbies? I took a drink from my wine glass, contemplating what hobbies I could even fake. And was it worth it, for someone I am not technically dating? Frank would realize he’s lying if -

I jolt up as someone knocks loudly on my front door. Had I actually ordered sushi, or had I just …thought it into existence? I quickly get up and move to the door and peak through the peephole. It took me a moment to register that Matthew was standing on my doorstep, but why?

I opened the door and plaster a smile on my face. “Matthew, love! To what do I owe this pleasure?” He is always Matthew and never Matt by his own admission. Nicknames are for children, and top lawyers are not children.

“Claire!” I see his smile drop as he looks at what I’m wearing. “You aren’t dressed?”

“Dressed?” I lean on the door and look at him in confusion. “Dressed for…our dinner date! Tonight! Oh Matthew, I’m sorry it has been a whirlwind of a day. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be changed. Here, come on in.” I move out of the door frame to let him in.

He doesn’t take the offer though. Instead he runs his hand through his hair and rocks on his shoes. “Listen, Claire. This is the fourth date in a row that you’ve had a ‘whirlwind of a day.’ I think it may be time to call it quits before this gets too embarrassing.”

“What oh no I just-”

“Look, I’ve dated plenty of smart, successful women. You aren’t in to me, and that is okay. But I have no interest in being your placeholder.”

I sigh and take his hand. “I am so sorry I made you feel that way. I am awful. You deserve so much better, and I am so sorry.”

He leaned in and kisses my forehead, then walks away. I closed the door and groaned. I had no feelings for him, and overall this is something that needed to happen, I know. What a weird day. I definitely needed sushi…and to change to whiskey. And to scour through boys on a dating site.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Jamie

“I canna believe you signed him up for multiple online dating sites!” My sister Jenny had tears from laughing so hard. John looked at me sheepishly, while Ian laughed along with my sister.

“It’s only three! I wanted to cover all the basis,” Ian said. I put my head in my hands, not sure if I was amused or horribly embarrassed.

“Okay, but the pictures you used?” John held up his phone, scrolling through the pictures for Jenny to look at. She started snorting from laughing so hard.

I looked over her shoulder and groaned. “Ian, you didn’t!” Ian had selected a picture that had no less than ten guys in it for the first picture, then the second picture was of Ian, John, and kinda of me on their first day of university. None of the pictures were just me, and most of them you couldn’t pick me out of the line up. I passed him back his phone. “This was supposed to be easier for me, no pressure and no work,” I groaned.

“Your problem was trusting these two,” Jenny said, getting up from the table, picking up her glass and Ian’s. She went over to our da’s whiskey and refilled their glasses. “You should have trusted me,” she said.

“Oh, god, no!” John said, stealing Ian’s glass as soon as Jenny sat it down. He took a big gulp, then added, “Do you remember the girls she tried to set you up with a few years ago?”

“Hey! Olivia and Sophie are both wonderful people!” Jenny smacked John on the arm.

“If you three are going to argue over my love life, I am going to start the dishes,” I laughed, picking up the last of the dishes off the table. This was frequently how dinners at my dad’s house ended up. My dad would sneak out after a drink to check out something on the farm while the four of us started arguing about something. It was comforting in how normal it is. Tonight the argument was apparently about my love life. I shook my head. I guess if anyone was going to figure it out, it would be those three.

I carried the dishes to the kitchen and began to fill the sink as my dad came in. “Have I missed all the arguing?” He asked, wiping the dirt off his hand with an old towel.

I smirked. “I think you can jump in and still help decide which of the three is going to solve my love life problems, if you want.” He smiled a little as he continued to wipe his hands in silence, but did not looking at me. I wasn’t sure why I suddenly had the overwhelming desire to apologize. “Da, what is it?”

He placed the towel on the counter and looked at me. I have been several inches taller than my dad since my last growth spurt around seventeen. He had aged since, but to me he had always looked he was pushing forty-five, though now that I was pushing thirty, I was taking in how old he actually was. His hair was fully gray, but was not showing any signs of thinning. He had just started wearing glasses regularly, which made him look like a scholarly professor rather than a farmer. He was looking a little exhausted and overworked, but I chalked that up to a long day out in a surprisingly sunny day.

“I am not one to give you big speeches,” he said, looking up at me finally. “And I know that you’re not asking for my advice. On love or anything, that this is all transactional. But I do wish you would consider actually looking for someone to date. Not on these ridiculous websites, but the old fashioned way. I just want you to be happy.”

I sat down on the stool, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. He was clearly uncomfortable with this conversation he had started, but he hadn’t darted back out the door. “Where is this coming from, da?” I asked finally.

He shrugged, looking even more uncomfortable. Da isn’t one for serious emotional discussions, and it’s clear he was regretting starting this one. “Forget I mentioned it. I just want you to find a nice lass and consider settling down. As slow as Jenny and Ian are moving, I may need to wait on you to give me grandkids, and I’d like them while I’m still young enough to chase after them.” He claps me on the back and grabs the bottle of whiskey and heading back into the dining room. I stared after him, even more confused, not understanding what I was missing. Ian was likely to propose within the year, and they both wanted a whole brood of children.

I, on the other hand, hated settling down. I worked on my family’s farms when they needed help, and I loved being a pilot instructor. I had tried my hand at a desk job after college, but I hated putting on a suit. My law degree was getting some pretty great use out of it, as my Uncle Dougal liked to point out when he was annoyed with my suggestions for his farm.

Still, I had always hated sitting for long, much less settling down for any reason. It wasn’t a big secret, so what was my dad getting at?

I poured a glass of water and grabbed the plate of cookies Jenny had brought over, heading back to the dining room. I sat the plate in the middle of the table, not interrupting some story that John was sharing about something that happened at work. My cellphone laid forgotten on the table in front of my chair. I picked it up, thumbing through the multiple dating apps John had installed on my phone at Jenny’s insistence this evening. I decided on one, then added a few pictures from my phone that were more recent and more obviously me.

I had a recent one with a student on an actual clear day. Another picture was of me and my motorcycle. I was dirty from changing it’s oil, and I wasn’t looking at the camera, but it was still a good picture. I was debating a third one when I realized the chatter around me had quieted down. “I like those!” Jenny said from over my shoulder.

I jumped, slamming my phone against the table. “What are you doing that for? Sneaking around on me, for the love of god!” I yelled. Jenny laughed, putting a hand on my shoulder. She leaned over and picked the phone up, scrolling through my pictures.

“You’re a brazen woman,” Ian laughed. What if Jamie takes shirtless selfies or saves pictures of him that he could send over snapchat?”

I threw a towel at him. “I don’t do that, you daft fool,” I said, my face flushing. There were definitely a few shirtless pictures in there, and a few saved photos from an old girlfriend or two. But they didn’t need to know that.

“What about this one?” Jenny said, handing me my phone. The picture on the screen was of me and Da a few weeks ago with his newest plow. I was in a plaid shirt and jeans, my sleeves rolled up and sweaty but not too dirty. My hair was a little on the longer side, with a deep red curl falling in my face as I laughed. Da looked happy and excited to play with his new toy. I couldn’t remember who had taken the picture, but clearly they had said something hilarious right before snapping it.

“You’re right — it is perfect.” I added it to my profile and snapped the phone off. “Now, no more talk of my love prospects tonight, got it?”

***

John and I headed to the car with leftovers, teasing Ian for trying to hide the fact he was going to Jenny’s house for the night from my father. She had left a few minutes before, not fooling anyone.

“Fake passengers get the back seat,” I teased, calling shotgun. I had drank enough to be feeling good and happy and was glad that John was driving. Ian smacked my head as he got in behind me.

“Are you two going to behave yourself long enough for me to drop off Ian at Jenny’s apartment?” John asked, faking annoyance.

“Yeah yeah, we’ll behave,” Ian grumbled from the backseat. We headed off out of the farmlands, back towards town, the teasing continuing as it always did. But the further we got from my dad’s house, the more something nagged at me. After we dropped off Ian, John and I settled into a comfortable silence as we headed home. “Hey John?” I called after him as he headed to his bedroom.

He peered around the corner. “Yeah, mate?” he yawned.

I pulled at my ear out of nervous habit, trying to figure out how to phrase my concerns. “My da said something weird to me tonight. I think…I think he’s mad or ashamed I’m not actively looking for someone to date. That I’m just looking for a transaction or something.”

John shrugged and leaned against the door frame. His face set into problem solving mode, one I was used to seeing as he practiced for court. “Well, look at the facts. If you look for someone to just date, then spring on the wedding, that’s going to send the wrong message. Either way you decide to go here, you need to be straight with the lass from the beginning about the wedding, you know?” He paused, looking at me as he clearly pondered something.

“Spit it out, John,” I said bluntly.

“Okay, okay. I guess I am just pondering if you are actually ready to date. It hasn’t seemed like a priority, and it isn’t like you can’t fill your bed when you need.”

I felt my ears go hot at the mention of my bed and women in it. No matter how old I got, any mention of anything sexual in normal conversation still made me feel like a thirteen-year-old boy. “Yeah, alright settle down,” I said, shrugging. “You’re right, it hasn’t been a priority. I’m over analysing his words. Too much whiskey.”

“Whatever you say, man. I am here when you decide what you want to do. Just decide in the morning, so I can get some sleep first.” He gave me a half salute as he turned and shut his bedroom door.

I nodded absent-mindedly. He was right about one thing at least. Nothing was going to be resolved tonight, and sleep was the best way to make a decision.

Chapter Text

A shrill noise split open my skull, threatening to spill my brains all over my pillows. It wouldn’t be the only fluid on my bed, I realized, wiping the drool off my face. I pulled my phone off the window sill it spent nights on while charging, looking at the screen. Notifications filled my vision, all brightly pink with blue or yellow or flaming. I scrolled down until I saw the culprit: a text from the head of rotations at the hospital.

ANTHONY

Claire —  I need you to come in today.

I scoffed. And instantly closed my eyes in pain.

CLAIRE

I am taking my 48. I was on rotation for 7 days. Would you like a video of how shaky my hand is? Do not call. X

ANTHONY

We’ve had 3 people call in sick.

CLAIRE

And you just came home from a two week vacation. Phone is on dnd. See you in two days. X

I put my phone on a focus mode labeled 'Fuck You, Tony,' so that he’d see the ‘Do Not Disturb’ in my text box. When I started rotations, I would have jumped at the opportunity to do more, learn more, until I realized my asshole of a boss was using my work ethic to do his work. Satisfied, I checked through a handful of other texts and news articles.

Content the world wasn’t burning to the ground on my rare day off, I opted to check the notifications that didn’t look familiar after coffee. Lots of coffee. I hadn’t drank much, but I was definitely out of practice after starting at the hospital. No more wine until London, I decided. I threw some s’more pop tarts in the toaster, picking up the phone. The blue and pink ones were OkCupid, a popular dating app I had heard of, but did not remember downloading. The flaming one looked like some Tinder inspired UK-ers only app, while the yellow one was CompanionTrips.

None of these apps were familiar.

I flipped open my text messages, going to my group chat with Geillis and Joe. It was clear Geillis was a bit tipsy, having gone to a local pub post protest, and Joe and Gail (who had been added to the group chat by me) enjoyed feeding into our silliness, sending me more apps to sign up for. Based on the texts I had — oh JHR Christ.

Seven apps were downloaded to my phone. I closed my eyes, willing the coffee to finish sooner.

Starting with the four apps I didn’t have notifications for, I quickly confirmed I fell asleep while signing up for them. Given my lack of desire to date or buy a plane ticket for a Christian Farmer or a Med Student FWB, those were deleted first. I deleted Tinder, but considered keeping Feeld as it started in the UK, according to Geillis. A quick look through my messages on OkCupid led to nothing productive, but I was likely biased as it appeared to be more for longterm relationships.

My finger hovered over the Flame app — London Bridge it appeared to be called — ready to delete it, but decided to mute the notifications instead. I wasn’t ruling out everything while overseas.

CompanionTrip was the first app Gail recommended, and the one with my best profile. I had a dozen or so messages from a variety of genders. Not too overwhelming… definitely worth a peak over my pop tarts.

I curled up on the couch with a mug of coffee, tarts in a paper towel, deciding to open the first person’s message. I realized it didn’t have a profile picture as the message loaded — ew. No thanks on that offer.

Two more profiles follow suit before I landed on one whose message didn’t mention their penis right off the bat. I opened the profile to see a beautiful man with dark blue eyes and curly red hair. I scrolled through the first three pictures, muttering “bot,” as there was no way a man like this was on an app. Unless he was gay — what did his message say?

I hit the back button, reading the message from JAMMPilot92:

Good… morning, I believe, based on your current location? Unless you are up late waiting for messages, understandably *winky face emoji*. Your profile discusses needing someone to go to a wedding with — would you be willing to do a second wedding on your trip? Can guarantee your own room and free booze.

Anxiously Awaiting, JAMMPilot92.

“Flipping bot had me going,” I sighed, flipping back to the profile. No twenty-seven year old was interested in a thirty-two year old. Okay, it wasn’t like I was ancient, and I had a few older friends because of my field. But someone looking like this? I wondered where they found the model, until I hit a picture of him with a man who was clearly his father, standing proud in front of a tractor. I copied the picture and dropped it into Google’s picture search, seeing if it was an ad for some Scottish tractor company. Instead, an article came up about Fraser’s Farm.

I furrowed my eyebrows. Okay, well, didn’t mean he wasn’t a model. I skimmed the article for confirmation, but all it said about the Fraser son was that he was a pilot trainer at the local airport on top of working on his father’s farm.

I switched back to CompanionTrip, shrugging a bit. The profile matched the son — Jamie — based on the article I read. I studied the picture of him in front of a plane.

“Oh, screw it,” I said, finishing my pop tart. I wiped my hand on my shirt. I started typing out a response, talking through the message as I typed. “‘You’re correct — it is morning here. Good afternoon, I believe? I’m having a hard time convincing myself you’re not a bot’… yeah I can’t not add that. ‘But I really like your green sweater in the picture with your dad.’ Maybe bots won’t pick up on that being wrong? ‘I have no issues trading a wedding for a wedding, assuming they’re not on the same day and while I’m over there. Talk soon, IDoBeauClaire.’”

“That’s enough screen time for now,” I finished, setting my phone on the table and pulling up a blanket. I turned on the tv, the volume low, snuggling down for a nap.

Chapter Text

Jamie’s phone lit up for the fourth time during his student’s practice test of the written portion of their flight test. He hit the side button, ignoring the third call from his roommate John. The student lifted their eyebrows. “Got a hot date tonight, Mr Jamie?”

“Get back to your theoreticals, Lewis,” Jamie quipped back. The kid held up their hands in mock defense before getting back to the exam in front of them. Jamie stepped out of the room, double checked the kid’s phone was in a basket at the front desk before he closed the door. He could see Lewis hunched over the table, their leg bouncing up and down. Jamie knew they were taking getting their license seriously, but he also knew leaving a phone in a room with a teenager was never a good idea.

“For fuck sake, John,” he said once his roommate picked up his phone. “Did one of my students fall out of a plane or something? What’s the emergency?”

“I — that’s so morbid. Why is your phone not on do not disturb if you’re in the middle of something?” Jamie heard the honest confusion in his roommate’s voice.

He shook his head, though John couldn’t see him. “You know my phone is always on vibrate with the visual light alert things you set up. Otherwise, I’d forget it exists. And — remember two weeks ago when Hamish called me because he and Fergus ended up in that holding cell? Collum would have murdered both—”

“Sorry, Fergus and Hamish went to jail? And I, the only one out of our group with a law degree that I'm actually using wasn’t called?”

Jamie almost laughed. Whenever John felt affronted, his tone somehow became more haughty. “I called Ned, mate. He’s actually licensed to practice in Edinburgh; you’re not, remember?”

“Oh. Right. Wait, this isn’t why I called. But please bring that story to the pub tonight. Right. Your dating profiles.”

“My dating profiles warranted —” Jamie looked at his phone — “six texts and four missed calls in the last three hours?”

“YES. I need you to actually open them and clear out the blasted notifications. I had to double check we didn’t accidentally sign you up for Grindr.”

“Hang on.” Jamie pulled the phone away from his ear, swiping the notifications down. Outside of a few other missed calls and texts, no other notifications popped up. “I’ve got nothing. Only your missed calls and texts, and a few others.”

John gave a frustrated groan, taking the phone away from his mouth so that it wouldn’t be that loud in Jamie’s ear. “I don’t know how you’ve turned off all notification — you do have the apps installed?”

“I do, yes. Look, I’m working. I’ve got maybe ninety minutes of clear flight time with this kid before their test, so if no one is dying, I’ll meet you at the pub at the normal time? Just,” he started as he heard John begin to protest. “turn off the notifications, okay? Or better, turn off your phone and go for a nice, relaxing walk.” They both said their goodbyes once John agreed to relax.

“Right,” he said as he walked back into the room. “Your time’s up, mate. Hope you answered them all correctly, because we aren’t taking a peak at anything before the pre-flight.

The rain came in right as Jamie finished hangaring the flight school’s Bulldog. Most of the school had turned over to the newer planes, Cirrus’s with their parachutes and barely different from an iPad avionics. But part of why Jamie loved the school was their requirement for students to learn just as much in an older aircraft. It helped with emergency training, and made students less likely to pull the ‘chute.

He had left the motorcycle at home, instead driving in with Ian. Jamie knew it would take him another half hour before he’d be on his way to swing by and pick him up. He checked in the instructor’s office, a small room with two desks for the five flight instructors who weren’t in charge, finding it fortunately empty. He quickly dropped his flight bag on the desk and slid into the seat, pulling out his phone.

In the end, Jamie had agreed to two apps geared towards finding friends, not necessarily dates, and passed along the photos he had for John to use. He opened up the first app, CompanionTrip.

“Aw Christ,” he said as the app pulled up. He saw what John must have been seeing all day: Jamie had over a hundred messages and several hundred likes. He sat the phone down quickly, overwhelmed. Jamie had never hurt for a date, but this was too much. All these women wanted to be a fake date with him? Jamie bit on the inside of his cheek pondering this. After a moment, he picked the phone back up and refreshed the messages. Three more had popped up.

Comically, he closed one eye as he looked at the messages, finally seeing a way to reorganize them. He decided to look at the oldest ones first, starting from the beginning of this insanity. 18 hours. John had started this profile 18 hours ago. He still couldn’t process it.

Jamie opened the first few messages, realizing they were actually conversations started by John. Most looked like he had been blocked for lack of photos or because John’s messages made him sound like a bot. He couldn’t help but laugh at that.

He clicked on the next conversation, surprised it contained a reply. He clicked on the woman’s profile, IDoBeauClare.

A beautiful, smiling woman popped up on Jamie’s phone. He scrolled through her pictures, laughing at a picture of her on the beach where her hair reminder him of Medusa. There was one of her in scrubs with a giant coffee mug, standing next to a few others in scrubs as well. Her profile confirmed she was in her residencies, and that while she was British, she lived in America. She was a few years older than him, but that hardly mattered. He flipped back to the message, laughing as she also appeared to think he was some kind of bot.

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows at her reply, then clicked on his own profile, going through his pictures. I don’t often wear green, and could confirm there wasn’t a picture of me in a green, especially in the picture with my Da.

Still, Jamie clicked back on her message, and started typing. “I’m afraid you may need to get your eyes checked for color blindness, miss. I’m wearing a red sweater in that photo. Does my hair come off green tinged as well?” He didn’t know how that blindness work and now was genuinely curious. “I apologize for the previous message; you’re not the first person to claim I sound like a bot. I’ll work on it. The wedding I’m attending is on the 23rd of June. It’s likely to be an all weekend thing, unfortunately, but completely covered. And with a group of people you’ll be comfortable around. What about your wedding? Take Care, JAMMPilot92.”

Satisfied with how easy that was, Jamie clicked on the next message to see what kind of Companion this person was looking for.