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otheroutlandertales · 6 years

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A prompt passed on to OOT from @imagineclaireandjamie: I would to read some canon or AU about Ian and Rachel! I know this blog has J and C's names attached but I and R are my second favorite couple!!

This will be a multi-chapter story.

Wine and Whisky - Chapter 1

by @whiskynottea

“It’s just another job interview,” Rachel murmured to herself as she stepped out of the bus, closing her eyes under the blinding sunlight. With a smile, she breathed in deeply, reveling in the feel of the sun against her skin.

How she’d missed it.

It was an elegant move of the hand, reminiscent of a Hollywood actress, that brought Rachel’s sunglasses to her face before she looked around, almost sure that she’d see the two-story houses on the main street of St. Helena.

Almost.

Instead of the colors that painted her memories, the lovely little shops and galleries, Rachel saw only the grim gothic houses of Edinburgh. So different from California. And so much colder. It was mid-June and she was still wearing a blazer. A light one, but still, a blazer. So much of the clothing and shoes she’d brought would probably never see the light of day. Her summer dresses. Her beautiful sandals.

But today it was sunny. And the days were still long.

Rachel walked across the street, phone in hand, searching for the bar where she was supposed meet the man. Conducting an interview in a bar. Scots were strange.

Rachel had pondered for more than an hour about going to the interview after she’d gotten the call.

How serious could an interview in a bar could be?

It was then, when she googled the bar’s name, that she discovered the Lallybroch Distillery and the Whisky and Freedom had the same owner, a man named James Fraser. She was supposed to meet William. Not meeting with the big boss yet.

Five minutes on foot, the app calculated.

Her pace was faster than normal, her anxiety passing from an overthinking brain to sweaty palms and fast strides. No matter how awkward this first interview was, the Lallybroch Distillery made one of the best whiskies in Scotland - or so was written in the reviews. It would be a great position to get. Assistant distiller in the firm’s branch in Edinburgh. And Rachel needed a job.

She wasn’t used to staying idle, and the idea of Denny having to provide enough to pay for them both was like a nettle, irritating her skin. She’d started applying for jobs, for any job available, from her first week in Scotland. She would compromise if she had to. But for this job, she didn’t need to compromise that much.

Just a little. Whisky wasn’t wine, after all.

Rachel had to say goodbye to the days when she tried to find the perfect balance between cherry and tomato notes in a rosé. The complementary taste of butter and vanilla in a white after staying in an oak barrel for six months. The deep color of a red, hitting her palate with black currants and plums.

Rachel was a chemist and her love for wine was at first sight. Or rather first taste. She had been the only woman in the team of winemakers in the Vittorio Sattui Winery, earning her position with studies, hard work and her unwillingness to accept “no.” She’d achieved all this before her brother decided it was a great opportunity for him to attend one of the specialty programmes in Scotland. Rachel didn’t talk to him for a week after his announcement. She then tried to put Italy and France on the table, too, but Denny was resolute. The Trauma and Orthopedic Surgery training programme in the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh was the one of his dreams. He applied and they’d accepted him. As simple as that.

And as simple as that, Rachel left the vineyards, the wine tasting, and her passion behind. She had promised to their mother that she’d never leave Denny alone. Not that she could, even if she wanted to. Denny was the only person she had in her life.

Well, he and Andrew, but things with Andrew were merely beginning when the siblings left for Scotland. Rachel and Andrew said their final goodbyes at the airport in LA, and never talked again.

She still missed his voice. The feel of his fingers in her hair.

The sunny, warm days on the beach, watching the sun setting into the ocean, orange flames burning around them as they glided on the water, swallowed by the waves only to emerge again fiercer.

The thoughts of a past life, of memories that formed less than a month ago and yet were so far away now, brought Rachel in front of the bar ten minutes early for the interview. Standing in front of the place, half a world away from the sunsets in California, her gaze travelled to the soft, worn wood of the sign.

Whisky and Freedom

Whisky. A whole new world to discover. A whole new world she knew nothing about.

Rachel knew grapes. Their varieties and peak harvest times, how long before the skins had to be removed so that the color of the rose color would be Provence-perfect and what casks should be used for the desired round body and just enough tannins. She had absolutely no idea about whisky. She knew nothing about barley and rye, about temperatures and distillation apart from what she’d read on Wikipedia, just before the interview. And she hoped it would be enough.

Rachel checked her watch, fixed her shirt and hair. Taking a deep breath, she opened the heavy door while looking at the reflection of her face on the yellow glass, hair smooth as silk, lipstick perfect. Removing her sunglasses, she put them on her head and squinted her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness of the bar. It was empty at such an early hour, but the interior’s deep brown wood gave her a warm and relaxed feeling.

Dude. The sunglasses. Be professional.

Hearing the little voice in her head, Rachel placed the sunglasses back in their case and in her purse.

Much better.

Seeing no one around but a man behind the bar, doubled up, making noise as he moved bottles into empty crates, Rachel walked towards him with her head up high, shoulders proud, facial expression well-controlled. Ready to make a good impression.

Her efforts were in vain as the man, on his way up, bumped his head on the counter, making her burst out in laughter. So much for professionalism.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to…”

Fuck.

The man - the young man - gave her a genuine smile, rubbing the back of his head. “Do I amuse ye, lass?” He asked her in a thick accent, making a grin blossom in her face.

“Maybe… a little…” She grimaced, shrugging apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m horrible.”

“Aye, ye are,” he leaned on the counter, looking at her. His eyes were a common brown, much like hers, but his gaze was sweet and straightforward; open. Like a dessert wine, easy to drink and easy to get drunk with. A Napa Valley late harvest with notes of apricot, orange marmalade and honey.

“What?” She asked, realizing that she hadn’t heard a word of what he’d said.

“I asked, how can I help ye? Tis early and the bar is still closed but for ye, I could make an exception.”

Is he hitting on me? How long have I been staring at him?

Rachel composed her features again, and with a blunt voice she announced that she had an interview with William. Feeling the absence of a last name echoing in her short request, she turned her gaze on her hands, fidgeting with her bracelet.

“Are ye applying for the position?”

“Apparently,” she said, immediately regretting her clipped response. However, he didn’t seem to take any offense.

“Willie isna here yet, lass, but ye can keep me company, if ye want to.” Pointing at the stool across from him, he smiled. “I’m Ian, by the way.”

“Rachel,” she said, propping herself up onto the stool.

“From?”

“Pennsylvania. But I lived in California for years.”

“If I was in L.A…” He sang-murmured.

“Exactly! Well, I was,” she said, feeling the same rueful smile forming on her face again.

“And judging from that tone, you want to go back.” He simply stated reading her expression as he moved a bit closer.

“Well, it’s not - ”

“I’m here!” A voice came from the opened door, which was now letting the sunrays sneak into the bar. A tall man, with broad shoulders and brown curls, approached the two, a huge smile displaying an array of white teeth. He seemed nice, but Rachel’s gaze instantly went back to Ian. He was looking at her. With a wink, Ian stood straight inside the bar counter again and turned to the newcomer.

“Willie, this is Rachel.” He said, rolling the ‘r’ of her name, and Rachel realized how beautiful it sounded.

“Nice to meet ye, Rachel,” William extended a hand and Rachel rushed to take it in hers. “I’m William.”

A firm shake. Good start.

“I’m sorry that I’m late,” William said, pausing for a moment before he added, rolling his eyes and looking at Ian, “Bree.”

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. “Will you two want anything to drink?”

“I think we’re fine, Ian,” William looked at him with his r his lips in a prudish pucker.

“Could I have a glass of water, if that’s not too much trouble?” Rachel asked with a smile.

“Sure,” Ian grinned and cocked an eyebrow to William, making it hard for Rachel to stop the smile from turning into a grin. “Here ye are, lass,” he placed the cold glass of water on the counter, his eyes in hers.

“Shall we go then, Rachel?” William gestured towards a closed door, that most likely was the office.

“Sure,” she said and followed William with a last glance back at Ian, who mouthed ‘good luck,’ boosting her confidence and making the grin reappear.

William, apparently, was the son of Jamie Fraser and worked in the distillery department at Lallybroch, a place in the Highlands, near Inverness. The interview lasted for about an hour, and William was much better prepared than Rachel thought when she first met him. He was about her age, but he’d been educated in the prestigious ‘Wine and Spirit Education Trust’ and knew a lot about wine - not as much as she did, but still enough. They talked about the Fraser distillery, its history and values, and its whisky production. Rachel assured him that she’d learn the art of making whisky fast, if properly trained, as she tried to project her passion from wine to whisky. She must have been quite successful, because at the end William stood up, shook her hand again and told her that she should wait for a phone call, to arrange a second interview, this time with Jamie Fraser.

“Would you like to stay? For a dram?” He asked her before reaching the door, his slanted blue eyes fixed on her. “To have a taste of the Fraser whisky?”

Was that a trap?

“Yes, sure,” she nodded, nervously opening and closing the clasp of her purse.

The door opened, revealing a bar that was half full now, with a busy Ian serving the patrons occupying the stools on the counter.

She briefly contemplated why she seemed to be so concerned with Ian’s work, but brushed the thought aside as William stopped at a small table.

“Shall we sit here?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

Rachel took a chair as William left to get their drinks. He was impressive, towering most of the men in the bar and yet he was modest, as if he didn’t know the effect he had on women. Heads turned discreetly towards him as he passed by the tables, gazes moving with him. Rachel’s eyes followed him as well, until he reached the bar. From that point on, they stayed fixed on Ian.

Ian poured whisky into two low glasses and passed them to the men standing in front of him before raising his head to find her eyes. He tied his light brown hair into a bun, and smiled at her, shyly, giving her a questioning thumbs up as he nodded at William. Rachel shrugged in response, only to see him winking at her encouragingly, and raising a glass as if in a toast. William moved behind him unaware of their silent communication, taking a bottle from the display and two glasses before he walked back to the table.

In the next couple of hours, Rachel had more whisky than she’d had in her whole life. She searched for the complexity, the different notes - fruity, flowers, nuts and smokiness - and she found them all.

Yes, she could work on whisky. It offered a challenge.

As time passed though, the qualities got mixed, her head buzzed and she just wanted her bed. Thanking William - not William anymore, just Willie - for all his help, she tried to focus on placing one foot in front of the other and reach the bar’s door.

She stood in the fresh air for a moment, feeling the cold breeze against her face when she heard her name, followed by a hand on her arm.

“Are ye okay?” His voice was low, hiding a hint of worry.

“Mmm,” she responded with her eyes closed.

“D’ye want me to take ye home? I canna leave right now, but - ”

She opened her eyes then and saw him. Lean and tall, with toned muscles just visible beneath his T-shirt. Strong but subtle. “I’m fine, Ian,” she smiled, searching for the pine honey in his eyes. “I don’t drive, I’ll just walk back to the bus.”

“Are ye sure?” He asked, pressing her to admit her drunkness. His gaze trailed over the grey sidewalk and he added, somehow regretfully, “Willie could walk ye home.”

“I’m more than sure, no need to call Willie. I can hold my alcohol.”

“Aye, that ye do, lass.” She smiled at her, and she thought that his smile held just the right amount of sweetness and mischief. Like a merlot, fruity, with tantalizing hints of vanilla and spice.

“Good night, Ian,” she said and squeezed his arm. “And thank you!”

“Good night, Rachel.”

These ‘r’s again, rolling like the water when it reaches the roots, nurturing, giving life.

Rachel walked back to the bus station, seeing, for the first time, the Edinburgh buildings for what they were.

Mysterious and beautiful. Like whisky. Like the Scots.

Continue to Chapter 2.

#outlander fanfiction #otheroutlandertales #mod whisky #pair: Young Ian x Rachel #ch: Young Ian #ch: Rachel #ch: william #modern AU #category: mf #Wine and Whisky #oot #*

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