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Language:
English
Series:
Part 6 of TSES
Stats:
Published:
2022-12-21
Completed:
2022-12-24
Words:
2,432
Chapters:
4/4
Comments:
48
Kudos:
123
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5
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2,023

It's Beginning to Look a Latte Like Christmas (TSES Holiday one-shots)

Summary:

Four tiny holiday one-shots/ficlets to bring you a bit of joy!

Chapter 1: Caroling

Chapter Text

                                       

 

Gail Abernathy had gone through a rapid round of introductions that included rather typical names that Claire didn’t think she was going to remember. How many Jessica’s were there? She’d graduated with at least three that she personally knew, and that was at a small school. The same could be said for Matt though. She could have sworn the first couple Gail introduced was Matt and Jessica but only moments later there was another Matt. She plastered a smile on her face and turned her focus to the kids.

Joe had popped his head into her room after school, inviting the family to come Christmas caroling. Gail was a part of some mothers of toddlers group and they had decided to spread some holiday cheer. They had song books, adorable kids who knew at least most of the lyrics, and a game plan for the day they were going caroling. 

Up until that moment it had never crossed Claire’s mind to actually go caroling. That was something people in movies did, not something people in a chilly (both the weather and the social dynamic) Seattle suburb did.

Yet here they all were. It wasn’t exactly like a Christmas movie, but it was heartwarming all the same.

“Can we go in yet?” Fergus pleaded. He bend his wrist, recently un-casted, back and forth, gingerly. “I’m getting cold.”

They were waiting at the main entryway of a sprawling building that housed a retirement villa, assisted living, and a nursing home.

"Soon as the activity coordinator says we can." Jamie's voice was steady and patient, in spite of the cold and all the wiggly children. "Remember what we've been talking about as far as being prepared, gracious, and attentive," he reminded the boys. Especially Fergus.

They'd had conversations ranging from "a nursing home might smell different from what you're used to" and "the residents might miss their own families or may even think you are a family member" to "don't walk off, distractedly." 

But after all the waiting, it was like Christmas magic to actually begin to sing.

They’d entered the building, stuffy and warm, and had walked the labyrinth of hallways to get to the cafeteria where several residents were waiting.

The weight of Jamie’s big hand at the small of her back and his nearly-monotone voice droning softly in her ear were joined by so many other tiny events that she was sure she’d remember like snapshots.

Fergus smiling ear to ear as he stood in the front row of children and sang out, not an ounce of self-consciousness or stage fright.

Rob singing with a shockingly clear voice, then turning to her and whispering with a quietly pleased smile, that he’d tried out for the school musical without telling anyone.

The elderly lady who used her feet to shuffle her wheelchair close and grabbed Claire’s hand. Papery skin, soft and wrinkled, grasped her as a shaky voice thanked her for bringing some holiday joy.

The man who sat near the back, who reminded her of Uncle Lamb, and who sang with them the whole, without a song book, time in a mellow tenor.

She leaned closer to Jamie. This was Christmas.

Chapter 2: Baking

Summary:

Claire and Suzette share a family recipe.

Chapter Text

                                                         

Claire wiped the smooth countertop one more time with the clean dishcloth. The entire kitchen was already the picture of perfection and wiping the counter again was completely unnecessary but for some reason this felt significant. It felt as if everything should be perfect. 

Which was nonsense.

Suzette had been to their house hundreds of times. 

But today she was coming to do some Christmas baking with Claire and for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, Claire felt as if it was more than just baking.

A knock, or more accurately a thud, sounded at the front door.

“You can come in!” Claire called out.

“I could if I wasn’t carrying so much!” came the shouted reply in the softly accented voice.

Quickly making her way to the door, Claire swung it open and held out her arms to take things from the other women who promptly transferred an armload of supplies.

“I have more,” Suzette told her, turning and heading back to her car. “This should be all of it though!” she called over her shoulder.

"You didn't have to bring everything, " came the mildly confused reply as the younger woman tried to take in with a glance an inventory of what she was now holding in her arms.

Suzette gave her a look that said she obviously did need to bring everything. "These are macarons , Claire. We don't experiment with any part of this. We use an exact recipe, ingredients, and supplies." She slipped past Claire who shut the door and followed into the kitchen, arms still laden with whatever Suzette had placed in them.

“I’ll confess right now to having never successfully made good macarons,” Claire admitted. “And trust me, I’ve tried.”

“This is why you have me!” Suzette beamed at her as she spread things out over the shining countertop.

Then began the baking. They fell into an easy camaraderie, Suzette giving instructions or demonstrating, offering comments to support along the way until finally they were done.

Claire stood, hip bumped against the cupboards, staring at the perfectly formed macarons with a smug expression. “Can you send me that recipe?”

“I’ll write it down for you.”

“Oh,” Claire turned toward the other woman, curls bobbing. “No rush! Just wait until you’re home and you can take a picture of it and send that or whatnot.”

“This recipe isn’t written down anywhere,” came the soft reply. “I learned it from-” her voice caught a bit, “my mère and my grand mère when I was young.”

The moment of silence that followed could have been awkward. It could have been cold. There could have been distance between them. 

But instead there was a subtle peacefulness.

“Do you miss them?” came Claire’s soft question. In her mind she pictured a tiny version of herself, orphaned. She wondered what it would be like if her parents were here now, noticing with a bit of surprise that their absence no longer caused sorrow, but rather a hollow space filled with curiosity and what-ifs. Fuzzy memories, but no pain. Then the words of her friend penetrated her mind.

“Not so much. Not anymore,” Suzette’s gentle smile seemed to warm the whole room more than the oven had. “They are my history, my past. I am their future, their legacy. And now,” she reached out and set a hand on Claire’s shoulder, “I have someone, family, to pass this on to as well.”

Chapter 3: Staff Party

Summary:

A party at The Gathering

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

                                                       

“Geordie, ye ken you could smile?” A teasing note infused Jamie’s voice as he looked at his employee.

“I am smiling.”

“Ye may want to tell yer face,” he retorted, then laughed as Geordie finally laughed as well.

It was well past closing at The Gathering, but a fire burned brightly in the hearth and the shop was filled with people.

“Yer wee lad, the one who is always happy doesna look all that pleased,” Geordie chuckled and Jamie followed his gaze.

It was true. The party was intended for the staff and their families, and that meant that some years there were several children present. Fergus sat across a chess board from two small children. Two small children, either twins or just very close in age and appearance, who looked too small for a full understanding of the complexities of chess as explained by an impulsive, only slightly older child.

“You can’t move it there, Winnie,” Fergus told the girl, whose blonde pigtails bobbed when she tilted her head in confusion. “That piece moves in the shape of a letter L.”

“She doesn’t know what L is,” replied her companion, an equally blonde boy.

“Nope,” shrugged Winnie.

“It’s like a 7-shape, but upside down,” Fergus continued.

“We don’t know numbers either,” the small boy said.

“We can count them, but we can’t draw them or chess them,” Winnie sighed dramatically.

Fergus inhaled heavily then puffed out his cheeks on the exhale. “Fine. You can move two spaces forward and one sideways. It doesn’t matter if it looks like a letter or a number!”

The little boy moved and his sister cheered, “Great job chessing the horse, Paxton!”

Jamie came close and ruffled Fergus’ hair as Fergus mumbled something under his breath about chessing and horses. “Yer a good coach, son.”

Fergus did smile then.

Jamie looked around the shop again, eyes landing on his wife. Claire stood behind the counter with Lindsay and Pam. Both mostly worked in the afternoon and he knew that Claire rarely got to talk much with either one. They were behind the counter because his stubborn wife was determined to learn how to make art in the foam on their drinks and she’d been practicing with nearly every “order” during the party. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but laughter filled the air abundantly.

“Ho, ho, ho!” boomed a voice from the door that had jingled loudly only a second before. Half a dozen children scrambled to get closer to Santa. Murtagh’s eyes shot daggers at him from the bearded face and he grinned back. 

Every year, for as long as he could remember, Murtagh would reluctantly agree to play Santa. He would hem and haw until he finally caved in and he’d act grumpy until the first child climbed onto his lap at which point he would melt into character. Robbie had figured out who “Santa” was a few years back and Jamie could see him, whispering to Charlie who was attempting to hide her giggles, pressing her hands over her mouth. Fergus stared in puzzlement, realizing that something was familiar and Claire looked on with amusement.

The children took turns sitting on Murtagh’s lap until finally it was Fergus’ turn. 

“What do ye want for Christmas then, lad?” he asked in his jolliest voice.

Jamie could see the exact moment the realization dawned on his son’s face. Claire saw it too, he could tell. She’d had her phone out ready to take a picture, but she’d paused and he could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. None of them wanted to lose any of the Christmas magic.

But Fergus did what he always did.

“ I already know,” he whispered. “Don’t worry though.” The don’t worry was spoken in the direction of his parents, accompanied by a smile. “I already have anything I could ask for anyway.” Then he wrapped his arms around Murtagh’s neck in a giant hug that was filled with every bit as much magic as there had ever been.

Notes:

Just one more little chapter tomorrow then we'll have it all wrapped up!

Chapter 4: Home

Summary:

Jamie and Claire put the last of the gifts under the tree and talk about their many blessings.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

                                                       

“Jamie,” she whispered. “ Jamie!”

Nothing. Just another soft snort as he turned on his pillow.

She slid her freezing cold feet over to his side and-

“What? Where? I’m up!” He sat bolt upright, blankly staring at nothing, and Claire couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“You look ridiculous,” she grinned.

“Aye? Well, if you’d been wakened by blocks of ice you’d look ridiculous too,” he retorted. 

Then he smiled back at her and even in their darkened bedroom Claire could picture her husband’s wide grin.

“Come on then,” she slid out of bed and into her cozy robe, cinching the belt around her. “You said you’d help put the rest of the gifts under the tree to surprise the boys.”

It was Christmas Eve…well, no, now it was Christmas, though very early. The tree was surrounded by presents (“We really shouldn’t spoil them like this,” Claire had said. “We’ve been blessed this year,” Jamie had replied with a shrug.) There were a few gifts they’d been hiding until now, playing along with the whole “Santa will deliver presents” thing that apparently neither boy believed anymore. There had been an unspoken consensus that it was more fun for everyone to keep a little bit of mystery and magic alive. So, Santa’s gifts were placed under the tree.

Not needing to discuss it, Jamie lit the logs in the fireplace. Their tree lights were on a timer, but Claire turned them on anyway. A couple of clanks sounded from the kitchen and moments later Jamie brought two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

They sat sprawled on the couch, Jamie in his t-shirt and soccer shorts, Claire in her robe and slippers, both clutching the mugs. She let her head loll against her husband as he tucked her under his arm. It was utterly calm. 

“Happy Christmas, wife.”

She could feel the words from where her head rested on his chest. “Happy Chri-,” she came to an abrupt halt, realizing he was holding a small package out to her. “What is this?” Her smile tinged her voice.

“If ye open it, you can find out,” he teased.

She shifted, still pressed against him at the hip where they were sunken into the couch, but sitting more upright now. Putting her hot chocolate onto a coaster, she took the package, slipping her fingernail under a piece of tape that closed a seam of wrapping paper.

“Oh,” she exhaled, eyes sparkling with firelight.

“They were my mam’s,” he began. “She told me when I was young that I was to give them to my wife. You don’t think…they’re too old fashioned?”

“No, Jamie, I love them. Put them on?” she asked in a whisper, holding the pearls to Jamie to put around her neck. It was silly. She was wearing pajamas. But she couldn’t help herself with something so precious.

“They were a treasure to her when she got them and they’re supposed to be passed on. I remember her wearing them when I was small. And I’m glad the lads will have memories of you wearing them now.”

“Mmm, I love you, James Fraser.” She leaned back into him, holding the necklace out a bit so she could see it better. “Have you ever thought of how short the lives of our parents were?” 

He stiffened and she quickly explained herself. 

“I don’t mean in any maudlin way Rather just that with so little time, they still left you with memories and heirlooms. Mine left me with dear Uncle Lamb. And we have all that to pass down.”

“Aye,” he said huskily. “When ye look at it that way, we’re blessed.”

“We are.”

So, while an icy rainy fell outside, they dozed in front of the fire, a tangle of blankets and limbs on the too-small-for-sleeping couch. And when Christmas Day dawned, they rose with joy, reveling in their many blessings and the life they shared.

 

Notes:

Merry Christmas to all! I hope your holiday, and your new year, are filled with blessings and joy.

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