Back to the Future (Sequel to Outlander Reversed)

Five

On the Morn of the majority of her household’s second full Day in the twenty-first Century, Summer was up before the Rooster even started crowing. She’d been too excited for today to sleep, so she thanked her lucky leaves and Stars for that ability to stay up for a week on three hours’ sleep. No doubt she’d have conked out before Sunset that Eve, if she hadn’t had that ability, which coulda easily been attributed to her barely-gestated pregnancy.

        But knowing that her young husband didn’t possess that ability, she’d left Jamie abed when she’d gotten up to get an early start on the Day. Other than a soft hum and rolling from his side to his back, he hadn’t moved a muscle as she’d gingerly thrown her legs over the edge of the bed on her side. His subconscious prolly just thought she needed to run to the bathroom, but that was fine by her–as long as he didn’t realize it wasn’t Time to get up by his standards, she wouldn’t have any questionsta answer later.

        Roughly an hour after heading out to her dairy barn to get the milking done a bit early, the Elvin woman heard gravel crunching. Considering the call she’d promised to make on Ian’s behalf the Day previous, she wasn’t surprised by that, nor the truck that soon appeared through the Trees lining her road parked next her own.

        “Gimme those, and don’t argue with me, Äiti,” her older son–Malcolm–said, leaving his driver’s door open as he ran up to take the buckets full to brimming with milk from her.

        “Just don’t stomp, or otherwise make a fuck-ton of noise,” Summer chuckled, relinquishing them since she knew how he was. “Far as I know, I’m the only one up yet–and even if I’m not, we don’t need Jamie trying to gutcha with his dirk.”

        “Not that it’d kill me, if it’s not made of Iron,” her son laughed.

        “It’s not–I made sure of that when I took it off his person when I first found him for my own sake,” she retorted. “Ya don’t think I’ve survived nearly four Centuries by being stupid, do ya?”

        “Judging by what Grandmother told me of just a couple Days ago, I’d have to beg to differ on occasion,” Malcolm said.

        “Better than Jamie–or his sister and brother-in-law–getting run through,” the Elvin woman pointed out, turning toward his truck. “That sword wouldn’t kill me since I knew it wasn’t made of Iron–but it woulda killed any of them.”

        “Point taken, Äiti,” he acquiesced.

        As her son headed into the house with the milk buckets–his magick at the ready to defend himself, if the need were to arise–she actually headed over to his truck. This was the part she was more worried about than any other the Day might bring, considering the half-unconventional dynamic of her family.

        The oldest of her three sons-in-law–Dallas–had managed to slide outta the passenger’s seat without twisting an ankle or anything. He’d paused once his booted feet were on the ground, a hand gingerly pressed to the small of his back as he arched backward slightly. His free hand readjusted the kilt he’d donned, not outta any Intent to show off or anything once he’d arrived, but ’cuz it was the most comfortable piece of clothing he owned at the moment. Considering he was five months into his third pregnancy, that was lil Wonder–and certainly not surprising.

        Grinning as they heard a sudden startled cry from the house, which was quickly followed by a thud, the Elvin woman gave him a quick hug. Once they’d parted, she was quick to reach into the back seat for the adorable twins who were squealing happily after catching sight of her. The oldest of this batch of grandchildren’d already climbed out since she was twelve, and therefore, no longer needed adult assistance.

        Moments later, the front door opened again as Malcolm came back out to rejoin them, a bit of a dirty look–not to mention a superficial cut–on his cheek. He rolled his eyes as his husband turned into a bit of a mother-Hen, but his magick took care of said cut in mere seconds. Satisfied that he was, indeed perfectly fine, the slightly younger of the pair turned his attention to what’d been in the front floorboard at his feet. None of them paid any attention to another body stepping onto the front porch, that body stopping dead in its tracks as Jamie caught sight of not just what he pulled out, but his kilt.

        “Have ya gathered the Eggs this Morn, Isoäiti?” the twelve-Year-old girl–Rylea–queried.