Quaranteam – Hebridean Hame

This is a story set in CorruptingPower's Quaranteam Universe. Permission has been sought and granted to allow me to attempt writing something in the setting - despite my inexperience!

Thanks to AgathonWrites and The_Licentious_Laureate for their editing and story input. As well as to the other QT authors who contributed to editing and whose work I would recommend you check out - BreakTheBar, AgathonWrites, BronanTheLibrarian, OtterlyMindblowing, SilverRyden, RonanJWilkerson, BirchesLoveBooks, The_Licentious_Laureate, DisquietCertitude, 32inch, Ranthoron and Percheron.

Make sure to check out the newest published QT story by EldritchMuppet

This continues to be a slower burn story than some of the other QT stories. Set in (very) rural Scotland during the DuaHalo/Covid lockdown, I've written without much use of the Scots language for easy reading. No sex scenes in this chapter - they are coming! Honest!

Constructive feedback is always welcome! I do read all comments, and I'm appreciative of those who have been so positive about a (very) differently paced QT story.

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Quaranteam -- Hebridean Hame, Chapter 3

Saturday evening, 26th September 2020

Eilean Arthriagh, Inner Hebrides, Scotland

The hours after Callum and Mira had returned to the Lodge had been hectic. Alison, Emma, and Catherine had asked a barrage of questions. All three of them had been concerned at the lateness of the hour, especially given how dark the island got and how dangerous the coastline pathways could be.

He'd left Mira to answer the various questions while he sorted water and a minimal amount of dry dog food for Karl, placing a handful in a soup bowl. He caught Emma's attention while she listened to Mira give her account of finding Karl and the wreck, quietly asking her to give Karl another handful of food in half an hour, but not too much. Frequent small amounts would be better, or Karl might be sick.

Callum then left the kitchen to make the phone call. He rang 999, selected the option for Coastguard and waited through several messages telling him operators were busy and to please hold the line, interspersed with advice about dealing with Covid and maintaining quarantine regulations. After waiting a few minutes, he got through to an exhausted-sounding call handler.

What followed was a lengthy conversation about what he had seen and where.

The call handler noted what Callum told them before carefully reading it all back. Callum then passed on the 'what3words' locations he had taken, making it clear which one was the shoreline nearest the vessel.

He noted the particular question as to whether the wrecked boat was flying a yellow flag.

Callum stated he was unsure but described the yellow cloth he had seen, which appeared to have been intended as a flag. The call operator sighed before asking Callum questions about how close he had come to the boat, whether he had seen or touched any bodies, and warning him to stay away from the wreck. They seemed relieved when he confirmed he had not been near any casualties - something he had already told them. The call handler had to be following some form of script, suggesting this might be a regular occurrence.

To confirm his suspicions, Callum had asked what the significance of the yellow flag was. The answer came quickly but was spoken sadly. A Yellow Jack means a vessel has sick people on board and is under quarantine. The call handler stated that it was possible that those aboard had been evacuated and the yacht had drifted somehow. But there might also be bodies on board. Someone would be out to check the vessel, but they had no idea when. They reminded Callum to stay away in the meantime.

Only when the call ended did Callum realise that the operator had sounded so tired and spoken so monotonously that he couldn't determine whether he had spoken to a man or a woman. His heart went out to all the various emergency service staff struggling through the pandemic.

He returned to the kitchen to find that Emma had plated some food for him. A steaming bowl of chilli and a mountain of white rice awaited him - Emma knew he loved lots of rice with this meal. The Chilli was only mildly spicy, mainly consisting of beans, chickpeas, and some vegetables she had managed to find for this dish.

"Thanks, Em," he called to her. Suddenly realising how hungry he was, he flopped into the chair and hurriedly ate. It was, as usual, delicious.

The food had so taken his attention that he hadn't noticed Catherine sitting at the opposite corner of the dinner table - daintily holding a cup and saucer, until after he'd made a decent dent in the food. At the same time, he noted the absence of Mira, Alison, and Karl. Skye was curled up on one of the dog beds in the corner, and there was no sign of Piper.

"Alison and Mira have taken Karl for a bath. Somewhere upstairs." Catherine helpfully stated as she watched him look around. "His fur was in such a state, the poor animal, that they decided to try and clean him up a little." From upstairs came a distant howl of laughter followed by various knocks and bangs. "I believe Piper may have gone to 'help'."

Callum nodded his thanks to Catherine, returning to his food.

He grinned at the distant shrieks of the two women as they discovered how little Karl enjoyed a bath and how hard it was to keep an unwilling dog in a slippery tub.

***

Having finished his food, Callum headed upstairs. Loud laughter and voices guided him to one of the smaller bathrooms on the first floor, probably because it had a shower over the bath rather than a separate shower cubicle and a standalone bath, unlike most other bathrooms in the Lodge.

As he approached, he could see water on the floor outside the bathroom - and not an insignificant amount. Popping his head into the open doorway, he quickly pulled himself back with a loud "Crap! Sorry!"

Mira had been kneeling on the floor, wearing trousers but no shirt - only her bra. She held the shower head over the bath while Alison, in panties and a bra, sat at the end of the tub, holding Karl still.

He had seen Emma before in a swimsuit, but this was the first time he had seen the other two in anything other than form-hiding clothing.

He took another step back down the corridor, away from the door - his embarrassment fighting against the thrill of what he had seen. In the room, both girls laughed - presumably at his antics. Suddenly, Piper emerged from the bathroom, pleased as ever to see him - he hadn't even noticed her in the room.

The two nearly naked women had fully taken up his attention.

He had to give himself a shake as his brain refused to move on from what his brief glimpse had revealed. Alison was the taller of the two, but unexpectedly, she had a much slimmer build than Mira. Her skin was pale, and, to his astonishment, she had several delicate but bright watercolour-effect tattoos of wildflowers. One narrow line of flowers was on her right shoulder, below her collarbone. Another line of other wildflowers was visible below her left breast, curving around her side. They were in places hidden by most normal clothing, and she had never mentioned having them.

Even from his brief glimpse, he recognised the art style as hers. She was wearing a dark blue bra and green panties, her breasts small but perfectly sized for her slight build. She had been smiling while she tried to hold Karl still, and the smile hadn't changed when she saw him appear in the doorway. She hadn't seemed bothered by the muddy water from the dog's fur or the splashes of muck covering her torso and face.

Mira's skin tone, on the other hand, was a warm shade of light brown - almost like dark honey. She was shorter than Alison but more filled out - as might be expected for someone at the start of their thirties. Not that she was overweight by any means, he would describe her as healthy-looking. He'd gotten a good look at her elegant long neck atop narrow shoulders as he glanced down at her, mainly because she had her hair tied up. He'd noted she was wearing a dark brown bra which enclosed much larger breasts than Alison's. The bra showed significant cleavage, possibly accentuated by how small Mira was and the act of her holding the shower head up.

If his arm was twisted and he had to guess, he would say Alison wore an A-cup bra very well, while Mira wore a C or D-cup exceptionally well.

Mira had responded to his gasped apology with a laugh. "It's fine, Callum, we've got this sorted. Go down, and we'll do the grand reveal once he's cleaned up."

Making the most of the offered escape, Callum headed back downstairs.

***

Callum was still in the kitchen, giving Skye some idle attention and chatting with Emma and Catherine about Monday's shopping list, when he heard the others come down the stairs - Piper leading the procession, with Mira and Alison, now changed and fully clothed.

Alison carried Karl down, which caused Callum and the other two at the table to laugh. Callum noted that despite her light build, Alison was strong enough to carry the adult dog - although he was lighter than might be expected due to his period of starvation.

After his bath, the ladies had used hairdryers to dry Karl.

The result was the amusing vision of the slight woman carrying a decidedly poofier German Shepherd. Karl was posed in Alison's arms like a king addressing his subjects, but as they laughed, he began to look decidedly sheepish. Alison placed him carefully down, and he limped gamely over to Callum, sitting opposite Skye and avoiding eye contact with everyone.

This lasted until Mira sorted another small bowl of dry dog food for him, and then he was at her side.

The decision had been collectively made that Callum should spend the night at the Lodge, as driving back would take focus and concentration that even he wasn't sure he could manage. Alison had sorted out one of the spare rooms for him despite his protestations that he could manage himself.

When it came to bedtime, Karl followed Callum. Skye and Piper, the traitors, went with Mira and Alison, respectively, much to Emma's disgust. Catherine had long since bid everyone goodnight and headed home.

Callum couldn't remember the last time he had been so physically and emotionally exhausted. He struggled up the stairs, his legs shaking and aching from the earlier physical exertion. Upon entering the bedroom, he quickly stripped between the door and the bed before collapsing on the mattress and pulling the duvet over himself. Callum was almost asleep when Karl whined at him from beside the bed, sticking his nose into Callum's face. He sighed, got up, helped Karl jump onto the bed, and then collapsed back himself.

***

Sunday, 27th September 2020

Eilean Arthriagh, Inner Hebrides, Scotland

Callum woke with a groan - early morning autumn sunlight shone through the windows, the light falling squarely on his face. The room had been so dark when they came to bed last night, and he'd been so exhausted that he'd forgotten to draw the curtains. He squinted as he looked around the familiar yet unfamiliar room, shielding his eyes with an outstretched palm. He was tempted to bury his head under a pillow but was already too warm.

He'd been in this room several times but had never slept in it. The larger-than-double bed should have given him plenty of room, but he was perched on the edge of the mattress, with a small corner of the duvet only covering his chest and legs.

Beside him, Karl sprawled out diagonally across most of the bed. He lay on top of the duvet with the back of his head and shoulders pressed against Callum. One of his ears twitched in Callum's direction, indicating the dog was awake.

"How are you doing this morning?" Callum asked as he reached over to ruffle the fur on Karl's head and scratch his ears. Karl's tail thumped lightly against the bed at the attention.

Callum started to get up. He had no idea what time it was, but the house was silent. Early, he guessed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he used his foot to pull yesterday's clothes closer. Checking his phone, having dug it out of his trouser pocket, it wouldn't turn on. He hadn't thought to ask for a charger.

Callum sighed and contemplated a shower but realised he'd be putting dirty clothes back on afterwards. It was better to wait 'til he got back to the house. As he yawned and rubbed a hand through his hair, he thought about the previous day's escapades - and wondered what today would bring.

Standing from the bed and stretching, Callum looked down on the now much less fluffy Karl. It struck him that he had no idea about Karl's routine, diet or family life. They would have to learn to fit together somehow, along with Piper and Skye.

Although... he was potentially falsely assuming Karl was his now, which wasn't necessarily the case. Given the lockdown, they likely would be together for a while. But it was also possible that his owners had been evacuated to a hospital for treatment and would want their dog back. Remembering the number on Karl's collar, Callum intended to give it a ring later.

For now, Karl remained spread out on the bed, only his tail, ears and eyes moving as Callum got organised to head downstairs. It had been hard to put an age on the dog yesterday, but today, cleaned up and rested, Karl didn't look much older than Piper - possibly around two or three years old. They discovered he was well trained, quickly responding to most standard commands. Even during the bath the previous night, he followed the lady's commands despite his initial attempts to escape.

Taking advantage of Karl's relaxed state, Callum moved around the bed to try and get a better look at the injured leg. Karl seemed happy to let him look but whined loudly when he attempted to touch it gently. Finding a vet was likely to be today's primary task.

Turning away, Callum pulled his trousers on and found himself standing in front of the room's full-length mirror. The bright copper hair he'd been born with had lost some of its colour over the years, darkening down to a mid-auburn shade. He'd last had it cut by Mira a fortnight ago and already needed another trim. She would never take it as short as Callum wanted, always leaving too much on top. His darker auburn beard remained short as he maintained it himself. Having previously let it grow out, it had proven a nuisance in the summer, so he cropped it back.

Strands of grey hair had also started appearing, mainly in his beard, which gave him another reason to keep it short. Leaving those for too long earlier in the year when his beard was grown out had been partly responsible for the 'grandad' nickname.

Above his beard, his face looked much more weatherbeaten now than when he first arrived on the island last year. He'd lost weight despite Emma's cooking. That had been apparent when he'd had to buy new clothes over the summer. He hadn't weighed himself in years but could feel a difference since last winter. Having arrived on the island as a former office worker who had spent a few too many years sitting around, he'd lost the start of the gut that had been developing and now had what he would describe as a healthy 'dad bod'. He was probably fitter now than he had been since he was a teenager. In a relaxed pose, he had no visible arm muscles; there was some tone in his upper arms if he self-consciously tried to strike a pose - the result of all the days spent cutting wood, shifting logs and undertaking other manual tasks around the island.

If he had to pick one feature about himself he disliked, it would have been his height. Not that he was particularly short, standing at 5'10", he was two inches taller than the Scottish average for men. But he believed his height had affected his relationship with Sarah. As a teenager, he'd feverently believed that she would have stayed with him if he had been taller. That one incident had led to him becoming fairly self-aware of his height - and it hadn't helped when many of his school friends had grown taller than him.

Later, once he had the wisdom of age, Callum had realised that if his height had been the issue, the problem was with Sarah, not him.

He'd overcome his shyness when he reached university, gaining some of the confidence Sarah seemed to find attractive. Not for her, but because he had to. At the same time, he had become much more comfortable about his physical appearance. His height became a negative only really in relation to Sarah, and as their lives eventually drifted apart, he'd spent less time thinking about it.

He finished putting his clothes on and then helped Karl down from the bed - before taking him downstairs for breakfast.

***

After letting Karl out of the house into the brisk morning air - and keeping an eye on him to make sure he returned when called, Callum filled and switched on the kettle, and then started to search for breakfast. The kitchen clock showed it was just before 8 am.

Having returned to the Lodge without any problem, Karl wolfed down the small portion of food Callum had set out before finding Skye's spot from the previous night.

Searching through the cupboards, it was apparent to Callum that the ladies were in much the same state shopping-wise as he was, with few breakfast options to hand. He did find a sizeable half-full sack of Scottish oats, so he decided on porridge.

He'd just popped some oats, water and salt in a suitable pan and was trying to figure out how to get the electric hob on the AGA working when he heard someone descending the stairs. No dogs accompanied them, so Callum automatically cringed slightly as he turned to the door, knowing who to expect.

He'd been caught red-handed.

Emma appeared in the doorway, stopping to lean casually on the doorframe with a hand on her hip. She wore the same silky nightdress, though thankfully with shorts.

While it had been an attractive garment in a darkened room, in the light of day, it was apparent how the material clung to her body - and that she wasn't wearing a bra this morning either. The sight of Emma in that item of clothing, after their encounter on the sofa, caused Callum an immediate physical reaction. Despite being fully dressed, he was thankful the kitchen island blocked his lower body from her view.

"Good morning!" she offered brightly before her smile turned ever so sharp. "Now, I know you're not messing with my kitchen! You have more sense than that!"

"Morning Em, sorry - I thought it would be a nice surprise for you to have someone else make your breakfast."

She quirked her lips disbelievingly but gave him a small smile before sashaying across the kitchen, her hips swaying. She stopped at the kitchen island opposite him, leaning forward on her elbows, arms crossed. The view of the cleavage she was deliberately presenting him was spectacular.

"Ok then, let's see what you've got. I'll just watch from here - and supervise." There was a definite gleam of mischief in her eye.

Callum attempted to play it cool, keeping his eyes on her face - or at least above her neckline. She seemed amused by his attempts not to let his eyes wander to the soft, smooth flesh she was deliberately showing off. Not that his efforts were particularly successful - the view was truly spectacular.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, are you going to stand there and enjoy the view all morning, or am I going to get some breakfast cooked for me?"

"Oui, Chef!" He barked as he immediately tore his eyes from her and returned to the cooker, causing Emma to chuckle. With a few directions from her, he got the cooker working. Then, it was just a simple case of getting the pan on the stove.

Over his shoulder, he queried, "It would have been better had the oats soaked overnight, but I'll do what I can. Do we have a spurtle?"

Emma gave him an appreciative look, and walked over to one of the kitchen drawers on his side of the kitchen island, removing a 10-inch-long, 1-inch-diameter rounded piece of round wood topped by a carved thistle. She moved beside him, bumping his hip with hers and handing him the stirring implement.