Another Lifeboat
Fandom: Stargate SG1/Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Janet Fraiser/Carson Beckett
Rating: PG
Spoilers: SG1 Lifeboat
Word Count: 1,459
Summary: Janet arrives home.
Notes: For Wendy, who wanted some music, marshmallows and the use of the word plethora.
It’s well past midnight when Janet gets home, and to say that she’s none too pleased about finding seemingly every light in the house still on is an understatement. “Cassie…” she mutters under her breath, hoping that her daughter isn’t engaging in any more teenage rebellion on a school night. Since the Nirrti-induced hell of two years ago, Cassie’s behaviour has been exemplary, all the more so this year, with her sights firmly Harvard-set. Janet expected her to be fast asleep by now, not still up, looking at Lord-knows-what, or talking to Lord-knows-who, and she grits her teeth, not in the least ready for an argument, not after the day she’s had.
Taking a deep breath, she slides the key into the lock, steps into the house and listens hard. To her surprise, she hears not the television blaring some teen horror flick that Cassie’s got a weakness for, nor some rock music with lyrics that she’s glad she can’t understand. Instead, she hears classical music, instantly recognising Pachabel’s Canon, one of her favourite pieces, and she smiles, because she knows now that Cassie’s not the one waiting up to welcome her home.
She hangs her purse on the coat-stand, hangs her coat over it, kicks off her shoes before heading for the living room, calling out his name as she does so. To her surprise, there is no response, and she frowns, says his name again when she’s actually in the room. There’s still no reply, and when she gets to the end of the couch, she finds out why, and the reason makes her smile even wider.
Of course, such activities would be far
more pleasurable with him awake, so she leans down, lays her hand on his
shoulder. “
“’M awake,” he mumbles, and she bites the inside of her cheek, not quite succeeding in keeping the laugh at bay.
“Sure you are,” she tells him fondly, keeping her voice down, mindful of her sleeping daughter, but a gasp escapes her when Carson’s hands shoot out, closing firmly around her waist, pulling her down on top of him.
Her hands land on his chest, the impact – or at least, she tells herself it’s the impact – knocking the breath out of her, and she lets herself collapse against him, her ear resting over his heart, her cheek pillowed on his chest as it vibrates with silent laughter. “I’m wide awake, love,” he tells her after a few moments. “Just resting m’eyes, that’s all.”
“Is that why you were snoring?” she asks, lifting her head to look at him, and he raises an eyebrow in unmistakable challenge. A second later and she’s biting back another yelp, squirming against him as he tickles her. He knows exactly where her weak spots are, and she begs him in whispered tones for mercy, but she’s still strangely disappointed when his hands still, resting splayed across her back.
“I’m only stopping,” he tells her in lofty tones, “Because I dinna want Cassie stompin’ down here, complaining about us waking her up again.” Because they both know that it wouldn’t be the first time, and Cassie would never let them forget it.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” she tells him after a moment of silence where he reaches up to play with her hair.
“I know that,” he says. “But I wanted to.”
The words warm her from the inside out, and she smiles, closing her eyes as his fingers continue to move over her hair. “I’m glad,” she whispers.
She hears him chuckle, but doesn’t move, is far too comfortable. “How’s Daniel?” he asks after a moment, and she smiles, happiness and tired pride filling her.
“He’s fine,” she says. “Resting comfortably…with just a mild headache to show for it.”
“Well, that’s surely to be expected,” says
“He does have a knack for getting into
unusual situations,” is all Janet says, an understatement if ever there was
one, and
“I saw you there today,” he tells her, his fingers reaching underneath her hair, finding the skin at the back of her neck, kneading there gently. “Fightin’ so hard for him… refusin’ to let go… I was very proud to know you today, love.”
She lifts her head at that, sees a look in his blue eyes that makes her head and stomach swim pleasantly, makes her want to do all manner of things that would make Cassie good and vexed if she heard them and chanced to wander out here. She opens her mouth to say something, stops when his hand finds her cheek, thumb rubbing over her lips.
Her eyes close at his touch, so she only hears him say, “And not just today either,” before his lips close over hers, and then she’s lost in his kiss, in him, and just like always, she doesn’t want to be found when they’re here like this.
She’s making good on her earlier thoughts, one hand pushing up his shirt, fingers of the other hand opening the buttons as best she can, and since Carson doesn’t usually object to her doing that, she’s somewhat surprised when he pulls away from her.
“
“You’re exhausted,” he says, though it
sounds as if the words are costing him considerable effort. “Look at you…
you’re white as a ghost.” She opens her mouth to protest, but
“I’m fine,” she tells him, one hand reaching out to tug at the end of his shirt, and he shakes his head, takes half a step back, putting some distance between them.
“Aye lass, that I know,” he tells her with a smirk, and she can’t stop the blush that sweeps over her cheeks. “But the fact remains… I’ll bet you’ve not had anything to eat all day.”
Come to think of it, Janet can’t remember the last time she ate something, and the mere thought of food makes her stomach growl loudly. He laughs, laughs again when her cheeks flare scarlet, and he moves towards her, leans over and kisses the top of her head. “That’s what I thought,” he says. “Stay here…listen to the nice music… I’ll be right back.”
He’s moving in the direction of the
kitchen, and her eyes follow him. “
“Janet,” he says, in a very good imitation of her I’m-your-doctor-don’t-argue-with-me voice, “Let me take care of you, aye?”
The last is said with a tone of such tenderness that she couldn’t say no if she wanted to, so she just nods once, leans back against the couch cushions and closes her eyes.
The next thing she knows, there’s a hand on her shoulder, a voice saying, “Wake up,” in her ear, and her response comes easily, automatically.
“I’m not asleep… just resting my eyes.”
“Sure you are,” he replies, a knowing smile on his lips, and he reaches behind him, taking up a plate of scrambled eggs on toast. “Eat,” he commands, reaching again and holding up two steaming mugs. “Or drink.”
She leans forward, sees not the coffee she lives on during the day, but hot chocolate, sprinkled liberally with marshmallows, just the way she likes it. “You’re too good to me,” she tells him, and he smiles. She knows he wants to touch her, but both his hands are full, so he nudges her knee with his instead.
“No such thing,” he tells her. “It’s just because I love you, you know.”
Those words do more for her mood than the food, the hot chocolate, the music ever could, and she smiles back, once more the words coming easily. “I love you too.”
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