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All I want for Christmas is you

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December 15

“Bloody hell!” I stammered as a flash of papers scattered into view.

“IFFFFRIN.” A loud Scottish voice echoed in anger.

Reaching down to the ground to gather my chart the voice registered in my brain.

“Fraser,” I muttered in dismay as I clutched the files to my chest. “What are you doing on the ICU floor?”

“I was droppin’ off some new flyers for the New Year’s Gala…” His voice was thick and properly, Scottish.

“Oh.” I shook my head and finished grabbing the last of my papers. “I see.”

“What are ye doing on the floor? Isn’t it the annual staff party?”

That earned him a laugh despite my best efforts-- I hated parties, I despised large groups of people- I truly loathedputting the both of those things together.

“Not really my scene.”

“Hm. Well then, I guess I won’t have to fight ye over the last glass or two of spiked eggnog then.” He raised his brow and took stock of my appearance. I was in scrubs from yesterday and my three day old hair that was miraculously saved by dry shampoo.

“No, I don’t think you will. I didn’t even know that the marketing department was allowed at the party.” I put forth my most prompt British accent trying to put up my professional facade back up. “Goodnight Mr. Fraser. ”

“Night, Sassenach.” He gave a thick Scottish back at me.

I hate that bloody, arrogant, know it all Scot!

“Take care, lass. Dinna drink too much, I dinna want to have to take care of ye.”

“In your dreams,” I said, sashaying away to finish my dictations.


“C’mon, Claire.” Geillis wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me into the elevator. “Just one drink! It’s an open bar and paid for by the board!”

She had already gotten me into the lift- there was no stopping her now. “Fine,” I hissed. “Just one drink at the staff party- then it’s off to bed for this doctor.”

I gave my best attempt at a smile and let my hair out from it’s curly updo.

“See,” She smiled as she hit floor six, “Even the Resident Grinch can enjoy a Christmas party.”

The doors opened and my vision filled with Christmas lights and smelled of cinnamon.

“Just ONE drink.” I said firmly crossing my arms.

“Och! Alright,” She nodded at stepped out of the lift, “Just a drink.”


One drink had turned into four- the eggnog much better than I cared to admit, with a nice bourbon mixed in- made just my favourite way.

I refilled what would most definitely be my last glass and took a sip, swaying somewhat drunkenly from side to side as Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ filled my ears.

I might have been singing, though I thought I was humming, when a firm hand on my shoulder brought my attention back to reality.

“Steady yerself there, lass.” His voice was warm and breath smelled of whisky, “Dinna want ye to get into trouble.”

The familiar Scottish voice rang in my ears as his hands found their way to my waist and stopped my swaying.

“Mister Frassser,” I could feel the world starting to spin, “What can I do for you?”

I looked up and pushed a stray curl out of my face and saw a smirk across the bastard’s face.

“Ye are bonnie when ye let yer hair down, Dr. Beauchamp.”

His hands were still on my waist and our faces just inches apart. “You aren’t so bad yourself. Half the residents fantasize over banging you in the on-call room.” My gaze traveled from his arms down to his hands as they were still on my waist. I could feel his gaze intently on me causing the temperature to rise in my cheeks.“I just always pictured how I would tell you I love you.”

He was quiet for a minute. My mouth had moved faster than my brain could register and I was hoping he didn’t catch what I had admitted to him in my bourbon induced haze.

“Hmmphm.” His finger traced the outline of my cheek. “Do the residents really talk about me like that?” He smiled quietly tilting my face up towards his, a glimmer of hope filled his eyes.

“Uhm…”I tried to find the words but nothing came out. “Yes. There’s also a bet as to if you have six abs or eight, and which one might be the lucky lady to take the shirt off to find out.”

Good god, I was drunk, and the words were just coming out of me.

“What if there was only one doctor in this place I might take up on that offer?”

“She’d be a lucky lady,” I could feel the bourbon in my belly giving me liquid courage, “Because even I am dying to know what’s under that shirt.”

“Are ye then?”

“Aye,” I gave my best attempt at a Scottish accent and his hand moved around the small of my back. “I am.”

“Well let’s find out, lass.”

“Let’s.” I grabbed his hand and led him towards the lift.