Subterfuge (Outlander, Jamie).

[Nebula]

A/N; Just a little blurb/drabbley thing to help me cope with the fact that I finished the show yesterday and idk what to do with my life now lol. Obvs set some time around the first half of S2.

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"hhUH'EIHDSSSZ'uh!"

The sound of it, impossibly thick and almost damnably uncivil despite the clear intonation that it had at least been muffled by the fabric confines of a handkerchief, echoed through the closed double doors separating the married men of the party from their wives as they took to brandy and their pipes. It also, most effectively, cut through the ladies' idle but incessant chatter, giving Claire a momentary reprieve from trying to keep up with the nonsensical gossip only worsening her growing headache.

"hhhH'HIDZSSSIY'ue!"

Huh. Always taking care of her - even when he isn't aware of it.

It turns out playing around at espionage in the hopes of changing the fate of an entire nation was all fun and games until the Bonnie Prince himself insisted upon the presence of one of his 'most trusted and loyal advisers and confidants' at yet another society event as his proxy - regardless of the circumstances - resulting in Jamie's own refusal to listen to reason about declining his own invitation.

At that very moment, with Jamie well and truly overtaken with cold - from stress and exhaustion, no doubt - and herself seemingly not too far behind him now (as she often found herself), she wasn't sure whether she was immensely proud or regretful of how good her husband was proving to be at subterfuge and making himself invaluable.

Of course, one word from herself about feeling ill and she could've immediately gotten out of it, with a loving order to take to bed for the evening, she spent enough time alone in their bed without him as of late and it had long lost its novelty. So it had been settled - they both go or neither.

"ehH'EHGTSZCH'uhh!....hh-iH...HUH'ADTSSZC'huh!"

She didn't need to see it to know that it was him either, she thought briefly as she winced in sympathy at the scraping outbursts, with a hint of amusement. Not only from the fact he'd been plagued by similarly violent volleys all afternoon, but she'd swear you could hear the slight almost-growl of his distinctive Scottish brogue in them. On reflection, his voice itself tended to garner attention wherever they went, as it thrashed apart from the melodic lilt of Parisian accents surrounding it.

Such a distinction must be clear to others too, as Louise turned to her with a detachedly polite expression of condolence, the sneezes simply too obtrusive not to mention now. “Your husband - Lord Broch Tuarach -” she supplied, the specification for the sake of the rest of the group of ladies, “…is he quite well?”.

Claire’s placid smile held in place though her own throat ached, both in sympathy with Jamie’s plight and with the growing promise of her own upcoming misery. She took a large sip from her wine.

“Not one bit” she concurred “But woe betide anyone who’d try to tell him that”.

[Elyze]

That's lovely ❤️ 

When I finished the series for the first time I watched it again 😉 I also started reading the books. 

I do, however, like the way you're coping with finishing the series by writing fics 🥳

[Elysnzz]

Oh I love Claire and Jamie 🥹 this is v cute 

[rockbell]

this is so cute! absolutely love this  

[Lady Blessington]

This is great! Amazing spellings!