Archive of Our Own

One  

“I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show”

Sam Heughan knew it since the very first moment.

It was quick and instantaneous.

An electric shock down the spine, a shake in the heart.

And then his eyes, sky blue, so expressive and full of a thousand shades, met her gaze, full of expectation.

Anxiety. Sam could clearly read anxiety in those eyes, and then apprehension, nervousness and a mixture of worry.

Caitrìona Balfe. That was the name of the woman who had just entered the room. His producer Maril had revealed to him the name of yet another aspiring Claire Fraser.

A name like many others. Caitrìona’s cheeks were red, caused by all the running from the taxi to the studios. The little room the agency had reserved for them was bright, but stifling.

After all “Outlander” was an unknown TV series, still in production.

The muggy California climate in September was unbearable.

It was obvious that the poor young woman was panting and sweating. Her dress, a lovely tartan pattern, was wrinkled. Caitrìona was out of breath.

For a split second Sam's cobalt blue eyes met the woman's ones, and from there it was all decided for him.

He had to have her.

He had done dozens and dozens of chemestry tests in those months, each time with a different actress.

He couldn’t even remember their faces. At least not every single one.

Sam had always been kind and accommodating though. His mother had raised him as a gentleman and, honestly, he felt terrified to be alone in this adventure again. Being chosen to play Jamie Fraser was a source of great pride for him, especially because if it went well, he would have had at least another year or two of a secure gig.

Sam had been training tirelessly for the role since June, when Diana saw his audition tape and was moved, reading the books, memorizing the draft of the script, going to the gym several times a day to be physically ready to play a highlander.

There was just one problem.

Filming was supposed to start in October. By now it was almost mid-September and they still hadn't found Claire Fraser.

Like Jamie, he wanted his wife. His telly wife. And he was getting impatient. Ron and Maril tried to make fun of it, but Sam had known them for three months and was pretty sure they were worried too. If they didn't find Claire Fraser, then they would have to delay the start of filming and it would be a problem for everyone. Diana Gabaldon, on the other hand, was putting on a brave face to lighten the mood.

It was Maril who suggested this actress. A former Victoria Secret model, of Irish origin.

Sam didn't know who she was.

But good God, he didn't even think she was so damn beautiful.

Breathtaking.

She has nice legs.That was the man's first thought. And his eyes wandered over the woman's body in a way that he almost felt ashamed.

He was scanning her like he was a horny teenager.

But God, she was so… beautiful.

He couldn't do anything about it.

She had brown hair tied back and a pale face, although her cheeks were still red from running. She smiled shyly. Her eyes weren't hazel, like Claire's, but a clear blue that made practically impossible for Sam not to look back at her. She was also quite tall, at least five feet, since she reached past his shoulders.

Caitrìona had recovered for a moment and he had took his change. He approached and given her a paper tissue to allow her to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

She smiled at him. Her touch was light and gentle, and when her fingers touched him, Sam felt a tickle in his heart.

His heartbeat was racing so fast that he feared he was going to die.

If there was a perfect way to die, well it was that one.

-Caitrìona Balfe. And sorry for the delay- they shook hands.

He had smiled at her like an idiot, oblivious to the fact that they were currently doing a chemistry test and that the producers of the show were in front of them.

And then they started rehearsing that scene. Jamie and Claire were going to have a fight and Sam was basically yelling at a complete stranger. And judging by the woman's response, it really pissed her off.

She was really anngry and was looking at him so intensely, as if she was going to kill him at any moment.

Oh, great! He said to himself. Now she would probably hate him. Maybe he had really gone too far.

At one point he even pulled her and gave her a bear hug.

And when they parted, she had been extremely professional and respectful. They were both sweaty, but smiling. Caitrìona had raised an arm, as if to hug him, but then she had a second thought and stopped.

Sam looked down then. He looked at her with the certainty that no matter what happened, he would be by Caitrìona Balfe's side. No matter what. In every way possible, he would support her, guide her, and make sure she was okay and always had everything she needed.

She was the right one.

That was love at first sight.

-Well done!- he told her, and she blushed.

Sam wasn't looking at her, though. He'd looked up just enough to see Ron and Maril's smiles in front of them.

They liked it.

It was done.

Caitrìona Balfe was his Claire Fraser.

She had accidentally hit him in the face and Sam smiled nervously.

-My ring ended up under that chair,- he said, as she apologized, touching his face.

As if they had known each other forever.

Sam gave a light, nervous laugh.

It had been so easy in the beginning to mask his true feelings toward his co-star.

He just had to be Jamie. He could kiss her, touch her, hold her whenever he wanted.

All in front of a camera.

After a brief initial shyness, he and Cat, as he had nicknamed her since he didn't know how to pronounce her name correctly, had become friends.

More than friends. What started out as friendship has grown stronger and now it was turning into something more.

At least for him.

So he started flirting with her, a bit jokingly but in reality he was smiling just at the sight of the Irishwoman.

In interviews he looked at her as if she had hung the moon and stars in the firmament. He had also made some comments about the perfection of the woman's breasts and about the fact that he always had to calm down after shooting some sex scene with her. There had been some quick kisses, during interviews and photoshoots.

Because she turned him on.

But he would never have said this out loud.

He could listen to her for hours. She had a delightful accent. She was funny, had a similar sense of humor, and was extremely intelligent.

They talked about everything from their families, to cooking, to traveling and their passion for nature and animals. They drank whiskey to warm up after endless days on set in the cold and under the incessant rain. They often dined together at sushi or in typical Scottish restaurants and knew each other's favorite orders.

God, it had only taken a few days together for him to be totally obsessed by her.

Intoxicated.

Was it too much?

Of course. He had never really fallen in love with any woman, except during his teen years. He tried to fill the void inside himself with one blonde after another.

Sam mentally called himself crazy. 

He really hoped he had the strength to show Cait how much he loved her.

But that wasn't the right time.

He can fight this feeling a little bit longer.

Two

  “I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction

You make everything so clear”

He had been on the verge of telling her countless times.

I love you.

Three seemingly simple words, but he mean it. He really did. He mean everything behind those eight letters.

There was a whole world behind it. That belonged only to the two of them, that could belong to him if only he hadn't been such a coward.

There was no room for anxiety and sadness when he was next to her.

There was no absence of his father, no sense of abandonment, no worry that his many relationships with stupid blondes were getting him nowhere.

There was only her.

His Cat.

Again and forever.

Sam wanted to be there for her every second of every single day.

Their chemistry was now obvious to everyone. Not just the two of them or the rest of the cast and crew.

But to the whole world.

“Outlander” was a huge hit after the first season aired.

And with popularity and fame came questions. Insistent ones.

Sam hated them. Caitrìona had put a good face on things and made it clear that they were just great friends. It would have been very difficult for either of them to fall in love, since they had to work together for at least seven seasons.

It would have been a real problem to give in completely to your feelings, to sleep together, and then break up for some silly reason.

Or not?

Sam had laughed nervously and whispered, “We could try…,” but then Caitrìona had moved on to answer another question.

As she always did. The Scotsman didn’t know if that was a strategy the woman used on purpose or if Cait felt the same way, but was afraid.

He had stopped countless times. I can fight this feeling, he had always told himself, but he didn't know if he could do it forever.

Sometimes Sam thought that all those questions, in those interviews, and every time fans stopped him on the street and asked where his costar was, it was all part of a plot against him.

He was getting paranoid.

But by now two years had passed.

And he didn’t know how long he could last. He and Caitrìona were best friends, close friends. Every time Jamie held his Claire, every time his fingers touched the pure white skin of the woman, Sam felt like he was dying. He could die of happiness right then and there and he wouldn’t care.

God, fate had been cruel. Making him fall madly in love with the one woman he couldn't have. He would have given up everything for her, even his career. But he knew all to well that it wasn't the same for her.

And he couldn't ruin Caitrìona's life just because he couldn't get her out of his head.

She would never forgive him. And Sam would never forgive himself too.

Their friendship was too important for both of them.

Cait had made that point many times: when she had stopped him, delicately, with a hand on his chest when he got too close to her. Or when she had turned down his numerous invitations to go out.

Sure, they went out together. They saw each other. Friends dates. That's what they called them.

Catering lunches on set, collective dinners with the rest of the cast to silence the gossips. 

Road trips in the wilderness of Scotland that turned into daring adventures because he wanted to be her personal GPS and, inevitably, ended in the middle of nowhere.

He had made her laugh then too, lightening the mood.

Her laugh. As if making her laugh was the only goal of his life. He couldn't help it, he had to have her near him. Just the two of them. In their little enchanted universe.

Those were his favorite moments. He lived to spend a few minutes alone with her.

And so when one day in January, she had written to him: “Would you like a beer in Dublin next week? I have a surprise! xxx” he had not hesitated for a moment.

They were on break from filming season two and he didn't have much to do other than hang out with his mother, brother, and nephew. He left the book he was reading about Scotland halfway through. His mother gave him a worried look, clearly offended that he was always thinking about work.

Business trip. That's what he called it to justify himself to Chrissie Heughan.

Now he was lying. It was one of the few lies he had ever told his mother.

But for Caitrìona this and more. After all, he would have done anything for her.

Even taking a plane from Glasgow to Dublin at the last second.

They had arranged to meet in an small pub, away from the crowded streets of the city center.

It wasn’t an unusual choice. He and Cait used to love the pub’s wood interior. And they served pretty good whiskey. He had to admit.

He had dressed in a hurry and had brought only a duffel bag, which was now lying on the checked floor of the pub. He was wearing only a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and his beloved leather jacket.

He was unusually nervous. He had already had an Irish coffee, but his nerves were not no cooled off.

With his right hand he kept tapping his knee, eager for her to arrive.

Because she gave him security, she gave his life direction.

He hadn't seen her for a week and his body was in a withdrawal.

And then she had arrived.

She was radiant.

She wore a scarf, gloves and a wool hat and a heavy coat. Because, of course, she was always cold and Sam loved that too cause he was the one who could warm her up during breaks in filming.

He raised his hand in greeting and that's when he realized Cait wasn't alone.

Her hand was holding a distinguished man.

Tall, dark hair and hazel eyes. Definitely serious in the face.

And they were both coming towards him.

Oh, shit. No, it couldn't be.

Sam cursed. He cant' fight this felling. Not again. Why was she doing this to him?

-Sammy!- Cait hugged him tightly and the sweet, pungent cinnamon scent that characterized her hit him and, for a moment, Sam felt at peace.

-I couldn't wait any longer! I wanted you two guys to meet in person!- she said when they were face to face again.

Sam's heart stopped beating.

I beg you. Please, no.

He put on the look he used when he was asked the same boring, insistent questions during interviews.

He had to be neutral. He couldn't let her know that she was sticking a knife right into his heart.

He had always been better at reading her. Cat can not read his mind so clearly like he does with her.

She wasn't supposed to notice anything.

Because for the Scotsman Caitrìona Balfe's happiness was more important, it was like air to him, it was the gravity that held his entire universe together.

Sam’s soul might be battered and his heart broken, but she, her angel, must not notice a thing.

So Sam made the best of a bad situation and held out the man hand, shaking it more than he should have.

-Antony MacGill-  he said, introducing himself.

Antony. Who the fuck introduces themselves with their full name?

-Samwise Heughan- Sam replied, making Cait laugh. Even Tony smiled slightly.

-I told you it was a surprise! This is Tony-.

Sam felt like he was dying.

She was so happy. So damn happy, with a big smile on her beautiful face.

Who was he to deny her that happiness?

Three

“'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting' for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor

Like crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore”

Since Tony had been in Caitrìona's life, things between the two of them had changed drastically.

Sam, of course, couldn't blame that damned Irishman.

He would have done the same. If he had her, if Cat had been his lover, he would have taken care of shielding her from everything and everyone. He would have done everything to spend every minute of his life next to her.

And so he had learned to hone his skills.

He was lying to himself, to Cait, to MacKenzie. Because he couldn't tell everyone what his true feelings were. He couldn't say that his heart broke in two at the mere sight of Tony, or that he kept himself from jumping at his neck every time the Irishman's hand joined Cait's.

“I'm so over the moon for her and Tony.” It had become his interview mantra.

Bullshit. A lot of bullshit, Heughan.

The questions had become even more insistent, regardless of the fact that both he and Caitrìona Balfe were now in romantic relationships.

At first, Sam had tried to be friends with the Tony. Really, he did.

But they had nothing in common.

Sam was affable. Tony was reserved.

The Scotsman was adventurous, while Cait's better half's idea of ​​fun was spending hours flipping through old vinyl records.

Sam loved rugby, never staying still and filling his agenda with a thousand commitments. While Tony had declined several times the various outings together because he wanted to rest.

Honestly Tony had nothing in common with Caitrìona either.

That was another thought that tormented him at night.

Sometimes he even forgot that he had a girlfriend. He had MacKenzie Mauzy.

No, not girlfriend. He and Mac had an on/off relationship.

If Caitrìona could be happy with Tony, then Sam had tried too.

Really. He really tried. He and Mac met in the summer of 2015. She was stunningly beautiful. Blonde hair, green eyes. She was fun and fun to be around. Why not? Blonde has more fun. Sam had said to himself.

It was nothing serious. They didn't even live together. They hung out together, that's for sure. They traveled together and fucked.

Sam had been pretending for a long time that everything was great, that MacKenzie was the one for him. But every damn time he was around Cait, mostly at work these days, he called himself a fool.

-You say you love me, but I'm not blind. I saw the way you look at her-.

MacKenzie was eight years younger than him and certainly didn't mince her words.

A part of him genuinely felt sorry for the girl. Mac was sweet and trusted him. They had both started dating for fun, but now it was clear that she was in love.

Oh, life was indeed cruel.

Because Sam knew he couldn't love her back.

He couldn't have done it, even if he wanted to.

But would he have wanted to? His heart was tired and his brain was now exasperated by the number of times he had had to fight against the flow of his thoughts. 

When he and MacKenzie had sex he had always to close his eyes. And he think about her.

Cait.

Because even though with the blonde he was having a lot of fun and she was really good in bed, she wasn't her.

She wasn't even a gram like Caitrìona. His Mo Nighean Donn.

Mac's green eyes weren't as hypnotic and expressive like the Irishwoman's. 

Because Cat was his everything. Loyal, sweet, respectful, stubborn, lovable.

Mac was just Mac. A good girl. But she didn't make him forget everything like his costar.

And Sam was disgusting to himself. What kind of man had he become?

The arguments and small discussions had become a constant and after having a few break up in a year of relationship, Sam decided to stopped all this madness.

When Mackenzie Mauzy disappeared from his life Sam didn't feel a thing.

Four  

“My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you

I've been running 'round in circles in my mind

And it always seems that I'm followin' you, girl

'Cause you take me to the places

That alone I'd never find”

And as in the most terrible of clichés, they ended up in bed together.

They were drunk. Of course, if he had been sober Sam would have prevented it. If she had been sober she would not have shown up distraught on his house at three in the morning.

In tears, after an argument with Tony.

That bastard.

Sam had resisted the blind urge to march to McGill's house and beat the crap out of him.

But he had offered his best friend a safe shoulder to cry on. He had given her a tissue, like when they first met, and hugged her. Then she had gotten up from the couch and opened the cupboard.

She knew where he kept his whiskey collection. 

One shot. Another one. They started laughing.

-I had enough! He actually said these exact words to me: “You prefer your job and your colleagues to me, Caitrìona!”. That is, for him! I would have to choose between being a little wife and having a respectable career! Does that seem fair to you, Sammy?-.

She slapped him on the chest. Her fingers, usually cold, were now hot.

Or maybe it was just Sam who was on fire. Because the woman he loved was standing in front of him wearing a robe and little else. Her jacket, wet from sleet, had been carelessly thrown onto the parquet.

-I mean, does that seem fair to you?- she repeated out loud. Then she covered her mouth and laughed out loud.

Yep, she was definitely drunk.

The woman took another shot, this time of tequila, and stared at him.

Her sapphire blue eyes shone in the dim light of the room.

-Did I wake you up, by any chance?-

How could she be so flawlessly beautiful? With tears in her eyes and wild, disheveled hair… and still be perfect?

Sam shook his head, grunting in amusement.

-Oh, God… Sam, were you with Mac?-.

The woman seemed genuinely sorry. A bit of lucidity struck her. It must have been three in the morning and she had rushed unannounced to her best friend's house.

But Sam stared at her in complete silence.

Petrified.

It was an eternity before the Scotsman opened his mouth to speak. His voice was extremely calm.

-Oh, Mac. She's gone-.

And that was enough to make him lose control.

They had practically jumped on each other. Clothes on the floor. Skin against skin. Sam had undressed her and tried to lift her up while still keeping his lips on hers. He had almost tripped in the process and he could still hear her laughter echoing in his ears.

They ended up in his king size bed.

He had looked her in the eyes, to ask her permission.

Now or never.

She nodded and he didn't understand anything anymore.

Sam held her close and his heart skipped a beat when he heard her call his name, in the throes of pleasure. He had never heard her call him like that, in the throes of extreme euphoria halfway between a desperate cry and a moan.

Sam can’t fight his feeling. Not again. Not any more.

-God, Cat I love you so much it hurts- he had whispered those words in her ear, just before he too reached the peak of pleasure.

He didn't know if it was the symptoms of alcohol talking or the post-orgasm bliss.

But it was the first time Sam couldn't hold back his feelings and said those three words out loud.

Can't fight this feeling anymore.

He had expected some sort of reaction from his co-star. Ex-best friend? Lover? Sam didn’t know what to call her anymore.

Now everything had changed.

She was no longer Caitrìona Balfe or The Wife.

No.

She had become his, finally.

Then he pull out of her and heard her sigh.

She, on the other hand, hadn't said anything. She'd just stared at the ceiling, and when Sam had laid down next to her and had stretched out a hand, to try to make contact again, he had seen that the woman's face was marked by tears.

-Cat, everything's okay-.

Sam mentally called himself an idiot.

They were both drunk and ended up in bed together. And now Cait was crying in his arms.

Of course she would cry. It was natural.

Sam knew Caitrìona better than anyone on the face of the earth. He knew she didn't believe in love at first sight. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't hide his feelings any longer, the way he'd always felt for her.

He rolled onto his side, so that their faces were perfectly aligned. Then he reached out and cupped the woman’s face, forcing her to meet his gaze.

-Cat- he told her. His voice was shaking, almost like a whisper, as if he was afraid to finish his sentence and hear her answer. -I’m sorry, Cat-.

Liar. He didn't mind at all.

The Scotsman's eyes filled with tears. A hand from the woman had grabbed his arm. She had stopped sobbing now. Caitrìona was looking at him with her eyes still veiled, but she had a confused expression on her face.

Almost scared.

He had to ask her. He couldn't wait any longer. The man closed his eyes and sighed for courage. Then he opened them again.

The sapphire blue eyes of the woman he loved reflected in his equally concerned gaze.

-Are you going back to him now?-.

Hold his breath, expecting the worst.

Caitrìona was traditional, responsible, after all. She wouldn't have ruined her marriage to Tony for a one-night stand with his best friend.

She can't do no wrong. Whatever choice she would ever make.

Instead… the woman shook her head and Sam's heart skipped a beat.

-I have never loved anyone, but you. I want you to know that I won't ever let you go. I promised-

Cait nodded. Her eyes filled with hope.

Sam leaned down, his lips trembling, and kissed her.

The morning found them still embraced, naked, under the covers.

Sam's alarm clock made a decidedly unpleasant sound and was impossible to ignore.

Caitrìona grunted and reached for the bedside table, but found no alarm clock there.

-My head is exploding! Make it stop- the woman grunted, turning to the other side of the bed.

-Oh, I’ll take care of it-. Sam reached over enough to pick up a shoe from the floor and throw it across the room: onto the dresser containing half his clothes, where his alarm clock actually sat.

There was silence.

Cait opened her eyes. The sunlight blinded her and she turned back to Sam. One elbow resting on the mattress. Her hair disheveled.

-Why the hell do you keep your alarm clock on the wardrobe and not on the nightstand, next to the bed?-

Sam shrugged.

-Motivation. If the alarm clock is placed far from the bed, then you are forced to get up to turn it off-

The woman burst into laughter. Pure and sincere.

Straight to the heart.

Sam smirked.

He was dead and this was heaven? Because he was naked next to the only woman he had ever been in love with.

And she was smiling at him.

-You are a ridiculous human being Samwise!-

-I love you- he said all in one breath.

God! It was magical to be able to say it out loud. Finally. He had been holding it in for almost three years.

-If this is a dream- he leaned in close enough to kiss her. -Then I want to stay here with you forever-

It was gentle, uncertain. Cat stepped back a little, and then Sam stopped.

He didn’t want to upset her. He didn’t want to ruin everything, but deep down he hoped that… God didn’t want to see her get up and disappear.

-I love you Cat and if this is a dream I don't want to wake up again- he repeated and kissed her again. On the neck this time, and he heard her sigh.

-Sam…-

The woman's hand was gentle, but stopped her movements.

-I'm serious Cat. We can really try to be together, please. I would do anything for you. You know that-

The woman bit her lower lip and tilted her head to the side.

-How long?- she asked. Her face was serious. She was breathing slowly, but her rising and falling breasts, with their hard nipples, were highly distracting to the Scotsman.

Cat certainly hadn't missed his gaze. All Sam wanted to do was bury himself inside her again and never let go.

But he knew she was more rational. And she wanted honest answers.

-Since the day of the audition- he answered, without any shame. Because by then he was out and wanted to tell her everything. Every single little thing she made him feel.

-Three years? Since the day of the audition?- she stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth half open. She was surprised.

Caitrìona pulled him close and kissed him, letting their tongues wrestle. He shivered as their privates touched again.

-Just hold me- she whispered, along with words full of tenderness.

She didn’t say “I love you, too.” Not yet. It was too soon for someone as cautious as she was. But for Sam, that was enough for now.

That was the first time in ten years that Sam didn't get up early to go for a run.

Five  

“And even as I wander

I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window

On a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might”

-You are beautiful, Mo Ghraidh-.

From that fateful night he repeated it to her every day.

He praised her every second of the day, whispered sweet declarations of love to her every night, before falling asleep in her arms.

Since that night, now almost three years ago, the Scotsman's life had taken a very specific direction.

She made him better. He wanted her to make him better.

A better man. A better father.

Because everything Sam loved most in the world had only been possible because of her.

His Cat.

The woman smiled and blushed slightly.

Even after all those years together, Sam had the power to make her laugh with just a look.

Caitrìona Balfe was honestly certain she wasn't beautiful at that precise moment.

She and Sam were walking through the narrow streets of Edinburgh. They had come to visit Chrissie and had spent a lovely weekend, indulging in her delicious vegetarian dishes.

It was their last morning in town so they decided to have a  bruch for breakfast.

They had dressed in a hurry. So the woman felt anything but attractive: she was wearing an orange wool hat, jeans and a sweatshirt, a black coat and a gray scarf to protect herself from the freezing wind despite it being early September.

Sam can't fight the felling any longer.

He leaned forward, squeezed the woman's hand tightly, and kissed her knuckles.

-You know it's true. You're perfect.-

-Aww!- they were interrupted by their son's gurgle.

Allister James was nine months old and, by far, the kindest baby in the world.

He looked a lot like his mother: he had the shape and the sky-blue shade of her eyes, her features, her smile and nose. While from Sam he had gotten the reddish-blond hair, the broad forehead, the big hands and the more serious expressions on his face.

And he was already a giant.

Allister was also bundled up: he was wearing a soft Chewbacca jacket from “Star Wars” and, despite that, he sneezed, making both his parents smile.

Cait put the pacifier in his mouth and kissed his cheek, pulling Allister closer to her and tucking him more firmly into her side.

-We're here, love, hold on. It'll be nice and warm inside-.

They sat at a secluded table, away from prying eyes.

Scotland still offered them a false pretense of normality.

They ordered pancakes, scrambled eggs and toast, baked beans and fried green tomatoes.

Cat took Allister's jacket off and put him on her lap, making a thousand funny faces to make him laugh.

Sam couldn't take his eyes off Cait.

She was his. His in every way possible, and all the love he had for her was locked inside Allister.

She was an extraordinary mother.

Fingers intertwined. Allister's little hands reaching for him and Sam obliged by picking him up and tickling him, enjoying the squeals of joy and contentment the child produced.

Lister was his number one priority now.

Not fame, nor financial stability. But the health and well-being of his family. 

It was their last Sunday brunch before filming Season 4 of “Outlander.”

Sam should have been eating his avocado toast, but he was too busy watching how tenderly the woman he was in love was feeding their little man.

Allister had maple syrup all over his face and was smiling, gurgling happily.

-Slow down, love, or you’ll grow up too fast with all that food you eat!- she warned him, her eyes laughing with so much joy.

Sam looked at them with so much pride and devotion that he think his heart could burst with joy.

His gaze fell on the Claddagh Irish ring Cait wore on the index finger of her left hand.

He had given it to her when they found out they were expecting Allister.

-You know, I think it's time to make you an honest woman- the Scotsman's fingers brushed the woman's knuckles. Sam brought Caitrìona's hand close to his lips and kissed it. His eyes didn't leave her side for a second.

-Are you serious?- the woman's voice was calm, but it concealed a hint of surprise.

-I asked you over a year ago- the grip tightened -and I think you know... it is just the right time. We can go to the town hall with two witnesses, our parents and our siblings and sign it up a marriage certificate-.

So he wasn't joking! He was really serious!

Caitrìona smiled, her eyes immediately filling with tears of joy.

-Is that a yes, then?-

Cait nodded.

And Sam raised both arms in the air in triumph.

He can't fight his falling any more. And the whole world would soon notice it.