#drunk!jamie

Jamie smiled larger than he had before; tears streamed down his face as he comprehended everything. He laughed and yelled in excitement then leaned down and kissed her, hard. His love pouring out of him in the kiss.

“I’m so verra happy, mo Sorcha. First ye agree to marry me, then wee Faith, yer selflessness in taking Fergus in and now this, this miracle of a bairn. I’m no’ sure how I deserve ye, but am so verra thankful that God gave ye to me.” Jamie lifted Claire up and swung her around kissing her soundly yet again.

She pushed on his shoulders in muffled protest. Scrambling out of his grasp, Claire flung herself to the floor and at the chamber pot just in time.

Jamie ran to her side and held her hair back while rubbing her back. “I’m sorry, Sassenach, I didna mean to make ye ill again.”

“It’s…not…your…fault,” she said breathlessly, her face red from the exertion. “You don’t need to stay with me through this.”

“Is this all from the bairn?” he asked in shock. She feebly nodded.

“Go. I’m sure you have things you can do. Maybe Murtagh could watch Fergus and Faith and you can get some downtime of your own in.”

“Ach, Sassenach, I couldna leave ye here alone in such a state.”

“Go,” she demanded. He kissed her brow once more, caressed her still flat belly and bounded out of the room, buoyed with happiness.

“Jamie, lad what has gotten into ye? Yer grinnin’ like a mad man,” Murtagh exclaimed, as Jamie bounded into the room, his smile bright and unwavering.

“Claire is with bairn again! I didna believe after the scares of almost losing her and Faith the last time it would ever be possible again!” Jamie gripped Murtagh’s shoulder in elation.

Murtagh’s scruffy, bearded face crinkled into a smile; his heart filled with pride and joy for the lad. Abandoning the ledgers he said, “Aye, that’s a bonnie reason to put a smile on yer face! What’s say we celebrate?”

He slapped the younger man’s shoulder and led him out of the apartment. Jamie grinned and bounced every so often as the two men walked down the street to the closest tavern.

“Two of yer finest whisky. We’ve reason to be celebratin’!” Murtagh yelled to the barman.

Jamie sat at a table. His grin seeming to be a permanent fixture on his face. The other patrons of the tavern gave him curious glances, but he couldn’t be bothered by their stares; his heart was too light and happy with the news of another bairn. Another member of the family, another person for him to protect, take care of, and teach…another person to love. Claire brought so much love to his life that he overflowed with it.

“Can ye believe it man?” Jamie beamed as Murtagh sat down and handed him his dram. “Another bairn!”

“Aye!” Murtagh slugged him again on the shoulder. “Perhaps this time a lad, eh?”

Murtagh lifted up his mug and Jamie enthusiastically met it in the air, whisky sloshing over their hands. Quickly finishing off the first dram, Murtagh ordered more rounds for Jamie and himself, letting the joyous news overtake them.

Murtagh drained the dram the moment it touched his lips, the drunken stupor only enhancing his happiness for his godson.

“Another!” Jamie drunkenly slurred, with a smile.

The barman sent two more drams out to the drunken Scottish men. They were posing no threat to his customers and so long as they paid for their drinks, he would make a pretty penny off the pair of them.

When the next dram arrived, instead of gulping, Jamie took a sip of the alcohol and turned to Murtagh, “What if it isna a lad?”

“Weel, then ye’ll have yer hands full with bonnie,” he hiccupped, “bonnie lassies. A toast!”

Jamie raised his glass, but Murtagh chose to stand. Staggering, Jamie got to his feet, and not to be outdone, stood atop the bench. Murtagh joined him and then went one step further to the top of the table. He raised his arms and yelled, “Ye good frogs of Paris! Ye may no’ be Scotsmen, but tonight we celebrate the occasion of a new bairn! Je suis prest!”

The men in the tavern looked at the funnily dressed, drunken, bearded man in confusion. The words slurred together in a tongue they did not understand until the very end, brokenly shouted, but shouted as a cry of elation.

Jamie stood next to Murtagh and threw his arm around his godfather’s shoulders, both of them unsteady as whisky sloshed from their drams. Together they looked at each other and began to sway together and loudly belt a folk song from their home about love. They sloshed their whisky while trying to tap to the beat only heard in their heads, as the crowd of patrons booed.

“Les deux d'entre vous, dehors!” the enraged barman shouted as Jamie and Murtagh fell from the table laughing, breaking furniture as they fell. “En dehors!” he shouted again, this time shoving them out the door.

Falling into the cobbled streets, Murtagh pulled Jamie up and exasperatedly said, “I dinna ken what’s wrong with that particular frog!”

Jamie grinned and slapped his godfather’s back. “It was probably from yer poor singing! Ye sound as tone deaf as a horse!”

Murtagh grunted, “Weel, I dinna ken what ye are speaking of either. Both of us are no’ half bad when it comes to singing the sweet melodies of the Gaelic songs! The frogs just dinna ken how to appreciate it!”

“Aye!” Jamie agreed as they stumbled back down the streets, getting turned around—twice—before finally making their way back to the apartment.

Murtagh tripped over the entry table and sent up a curse. The house was silent and every sound echoed eerily.

“Murtagh!” The fierce whisper yell of Suzette came from behind them. Murtagh swung around and knocked the fixture on the wall to the ground with a clatter.

“Suzette! Come, let me love you!” he said in Gaelic as she huffed and slapped away his hands.

“Non! You smell like swine and piss.  You’ll no be sleeping with me until you’ve cleaned and sobered up. Shoo!” she huffed, ushering him back to the servants quarters to draw him a bath.

Jamie continued to hum and sway to the tunes of many a song his Mam had once sang to him as a bairn. He couldna contain his joy or the idea of teaching these tunes to Fergus, Faith and the new bairn when the time came. Jamie stumbled into the main bed chambers as he attempted to pull off his boots, landing face first into the bed next to Claire.

He looked up and saw her still sleeping and couldn’t resist her lips. Kissing her sloppily, he hummed a tune and ran his face from hers down to her navel, planting another sloppy kiss just above the growing child.

Claire awoke to the timbre of Jamie’s voice vibrating against her stomach, a tune that made her wince seemed to be coming from his mouth.

“Jamie?”

“Ah! Mo Sorcha! Tha gaol agam ort!” was all she could make out as he switched from speaking to singing again, rolling his head across her stomach.

“Jamie, you need to stop.”

He shook his head, smiled and began a louder chorus of the song he had been singing, into the folds of her shift.

“Honestly Jamie! If you keep singing you’ll wake Faith. Now stop it this instant!”

Jamie’s head lolled to the side and he grinned up at her. “Let her wake! I intend to teach her this tune all the same! She’ll be a bonnie singer, just like her Da!”

He then continued his song while Claire winced. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t say bonnie, love. More… abhorrent.”

Jamie looked up at Claire in shock, the first time that night his smile gone as he dropped his jaw. “Claire!”

“Well it’s the truth, you’re tone deaf and you know it. If you weren’t so drunk, you know you never would have sung in the first place.”

“Murtagh and I were kicked out of the tavern down the way because of our singing. The people here canna recognize real music when they hear it!” he murmured… or thought he murmured. All Claire heard was muffled slurred syllables strung together that made no sense to her.

She smiled and played with his hair, “Sleep, my Jamie,” she whispered and kissed his forehead. “We’ll speak more in the morning.”

He never heard her; he slept as he lay, head at an awkward angle against her stomach, one hand stretched out covering one of her breasts, the other protectively beside his head over their unborn child, one boot off and the other dangling halfway off his foot.