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Summary: Set in present day. After Enemy at the Gate, Carson and Mary watch TV.

Categories: Ship Pairings > Beckett/Other
Characters: Carson Beckett, Original Character
Genres: Romance, Vignette
Warnings: Adult themes
Chapters: 1 [Table of Contents]
Series: None

Word count: 923; Completed: Yes
Updated: 25 Aug 2014; Published: 10 Aug 2014

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Story Notes:
I love to read, and I read Diana Gabaldon's first three books straight through, as close to binge reading as I could get. I've waited years for this to be on TV, and tonight was the night!


Doctor Carson Beckett pulled his car into his garage and let out a deep breath. The day was finally over. 'Gate travel didn't follow a Monday-through-Friday-office-hours schedule. He pushed the button to close the garage door, grabbed his bag and went into his home.

"Mary, I'm home," he called as he walked through the door. No one in the kitchen; it was late enough that dinner was over and tidied up, although she usually left something in the microwave for him. He smelled popcorn—that meant the lounge. 'Family room,' she called it. "Mary?"

Carson dumped his bag and jacket on the dining room table and headed through to the family room. And there she was. The woman who'd loved him through two lifetimes, who had borne his children, who he loved beyond measure. His beloved wife. And she was...

Totally ignoring him. Whatever the program on the television was, it was much more interesting than he was at the moment.

"Mary, mo chroi, I'm home," he leaned in the doorway and took in the scene. There was his Mary, hair in a messy ponytail, short pajamas and some small knitting in her lap. A bowl of popcorn was on the coffee table, and there were Redcoats running across the television screen.

Her eyes never leaving the screen, Mary patted the spot next to her on the sofa. Carson kicked off his shoes and joined her, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table. Now the Redcoats had gone and some bearded, kilted men were speaking. "Was that Gaelic?" He recognized the words, and they weren't written on the screen in English.

Mary nodded, eyes never leaving the screen. Carson started paying attention.

He found himself drawn into the story. Time travel seemed to be the starting point, and it was quite a costume drama. But this was most definitely a romance movie. Some woman named Claire was sitting on a table, and some man was kneeling between her legs! Not much left to the imagination. What was this program rated? He certainly wouldn't admit it at work, but this was pretty interesting. And arousing.

As the credits rolled, Mary sighed and picked up the remote, switching the TV off. She leaned into Carson and kissed his cheek, snuggling close. "Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?"

"Same old stuff. Away team checks. What WAS that program?"

"Outlander."

"What?"

"Outlander. It's a story about Claire, who goes back in time through a stone circle near Inverness and meets Jamie, fighting in the wars against the English. Chick flick."

"No, lass, this is past chick flick and into soft porn."

"Well...maybe. They're married, at any rate. Jamie has to marry Claire so she isn't turned over to the Redcoats, specifically the Randall one that's her 20th Century husband's great- great- great-great-great-great grandfather, and so later isn't charged as a witch. She's a nurse. Their healer died, so she takes his place. There's another women from the future in there as well, Gellis. And the Randall guy captures Jamie and falls in lust with him."

"None of that happened tonight. So how do ye ken so much about this?"

"That giant book I've been reading?"

"Yeah..."

"That's it. Outlander. By Diana Gabaldon. I first read it long before I met you, lover."

"A romance novel. And you a literature teacher!" His tone was disparaging.

"Yes, a romance novel. And lots of other things. And Diana Gabaldon has a Ph.D. in behavioral ecology. There are eight books, and she's probably made a boatload of money off them."

"So your Claire's a Sassenach. No wonder you like her, you're a Sassenach yourself." Carson slipped his hand under her shirt and lowered his head toward her.

"Aye." She kissed him first. "And she's about to find the joys of a bonny Scots lad in her bed. Just like I did." She kissed him again.

He kissed her back. "Do you want to find this bonny Scots lad in your bed, then?"

"Aye." His fingers stroked her abdomen as his thumb played with her nipple. She tried her best Scots accent: "Carson, you stud, take me to bed or lose me forever."

He went still for a minute and then she could feel him shaking as he laughed. "Mary, love, you're mixing your metaphors. That's the wrong movie."

"You noticed! After all these years, I'm finally getting you properly educated."

"Aye, having an M.D. and a Ph.D or two wasn't enough. And after all these years, your Scots is still atrocious."

"You needed more American culture. You're raising little Americans, you know."

"They're little Scotsmen, love."

"Maybe this one will be a little Scots lass."

His eyes showed surprise that quickly turned to a smile as big as could be. His hand slipped lower. "When, Mary?"

"April, I think." She smiled back.

"I love you, you know, Mary."

"I love you, too, Carson."

He kissed her again. "I didn't think we were planning a fourth."

"We weren't. I'm going to have to stop reading those romance novels. I read somewhere that women who read romance novels have a better sex life than women who don't read them."

"You're sure it's the romance novels, and not the bonny Scots lad in your bed?"

"It's definitely the bonny Scots lad. Now, let's go to bed."