Would a continuation of next scene of “Okay” be ok? I loved that fic! :)

antennapedia:

As requested by you and by an anonymous prompter! The next scene of “Okay”, in which Clara heads off after delivering her news, and Malcolm thinks it through.

Malcolm kissed Clara at the door of his office, then walked out with her through Sam’s domain to the outer door. He kissed her again there and let her fingers trail out of his as she headed off. He bit at his thumb and turned around to see Sam looking at him speculatively. He yanked his thumb out of his mouth and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Sam, yeah, look, send more roses to Clara’s flat, would you? Also her classroom. Same message as always. I’ve got to shout at Abbot for a few, then try not to eviscerate Baldy and fuck, there’s no point to it, is there?”

“You need to eat some breakfast,” Sam told him, kindly enough. She handed him a tray with a coffee and a muffin on it. He took it, stared down at it. He was going to be a father, fate willing. He and Clara. A father. There was no way he was going to do that without marrying her first, was there? He was going to make an honest woman of her and an honest man of himself.

“Fuck Abbot,” he said. “Baldy can fuck himself or hire a rentboy to do the fucking, I don’t care which. Get Jamie here as fast as his little legs can carry him. And Sam? Yeah. Thanks, Sam. I’m gonna– there’s gonna be some things I need your help planning.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow at him. She was considerably more intelligent than most of the politicians that shuffled in shame through his door.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “Look, yeah, it’s what you think, but I need to talk to some people first. Lips sealed, yeah?”

Jamie came by about ten minutes later, out of breath.

“What the cunting fuck is going on? Sam said top priority, which she never says.”

Malcolm drew him into the inner office and shut the door.

“Yeah. So. Here’s the thing. Clara’s up the duff.”

“Fuck.” Jamie’s face went dark for a moment, then it cleared of all emotion. “You need it handled quietly?”

“What? No! Fucking going to marry her. Need somebody to stand with me. Get me drunk before and then haul me to the church all green in the face.”

“Malc–” And then Jamie had his arms around him and was pounding his back. Malcolm endured it, let Jamie kiss both his cheeks. “You fucking devil,” he said. “No other way she would have you, huh?”

“Yeah, if she’ll have me. Haven’t fucking popped the question yet. She just agreed to move in, and we’re raising the bairn together, but I haven’t asked her this yet.”

Jamie shoved him away roughly. “Get to it, man. Get out of here and go down on your worthless knee.”

“Need a ring.”

“Go fucking buy one. You’re minted these days.”

“We both are, compared to how it was.”

“Yeah.”

Malcolm looked at his friend, his lieutenant of so many years, and saw him for a moment as he’d been in that newspaper office, bad shoes and worse suit, tie untied, no lines on his face.

Then Jamie said, “Feel a lot better about this one than the last time.”

Malcolm would have winced at that reminder of his first marriage before now. Now he didn’t fucking care. He was with Clara. Clara, who was the breath in his lungs, the blood in his veins. “Yeah,” he said.

“Get the fuck out of here and to a fucking jeweler. Go! I’ll gut Baldy when he shows up.”