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Jemma pulled the curtains closed on the front window of her little cottage nestled amid the glens and fells of Perthshire, which were currently dressed in the greens and browns of high summer. There was never a moment she spent at home with her family that she didn’t feel lucky.
It was her dream come true, though currently, her dream was a blasted mess.
Literally. Toys, half-finished projects, and books of all sorts littered every available surface along with random discarded clothing. A trail of mud led from the door to where a confused frog sat in an aquarium. She’d have to return him to a pond later.
Fitz was in the kitchen, supposedly to make dinner, though from the amount of cursing and banging she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. A quick peek showed that there was flour on the floor and all over her husband. It was tempting to go and lick the streak that marred his cheek, but then dinner would most certainly not get done, nor the laundry, nor anything else. She’d better save any licking for later.
In the hallway, she bent over and retrieved two pairs of shorts and five mismatched socks. “Boys!” she called, and her sons, now seven and five, tumbled out of their room. “Laundry in the washer, please.” They grabbed the stuff from her hands, both grumbling under their breath, and plodded back to their room to do as asked. She hoped.
Jemma found her daughter, three-and-a-half-year-old Lizzy, sitting on the floor of her room and gently patting Goose. The cat—well, flerken, but Jemma had never quite managed not to call him a cat—was basking in the attention. Lizzy, brown curls tangled from playing, flashed her mom a bright smile.
“Hey, Lizzy,” Jemma said. “Time to fetch your socks.” Lizzy tended to kick her socks off in her sleep, and they all ended up under the bed. It was a little annoying, but Fitz did the exact same thing. Lizzy hadn’t inherited only his blue eyes.
As Lizzy, talking to herself about fish, scooted under the bed, Jemma sat down and Goose came over to hop in her lap. She was his favorite, probably because her nails were excellent for behind the ear scratches. He purred loudly as she petted him. It was hard to know if the cat was happy with having been foisted off onto Jemma’s family, but she liked having him around.
When Fury had first dropped the cat off, Jemma had been pregnant with her eldest and unsure about having an alien around. The cat had seemed as wary, but since then they’d become a tight-knit bunch. Goose had been there through her worst morning sickness and would act as a warm, furry backrest to help her when she ached late in the pregnancies.
Goose was also an excellent guard cat. Nothing and no one could get close to the house without the cat coming to investigate. And home wouldn’t feel like home now without the cat somewhere about.
Jemma gave the cat’s rear a good scratching as Lizzy eked her way back out from under the bed with an armload of socks. “Let’s get those in the washer,” she said, standing and leading Lizzy to where the washing machine was in the back mudroom.
“Let me help, pumpkin,” Fitz said, appearing behind them. He scooped Lizzy up and held her over the washing machine so she could toss her socks in. “There’s a girl.” He kissed her cheek as she giggled and hugged him. Jemma’s heart warmed at the sight of father and daughter laughing with each other.
She leaned back against the wall, unsure if she’d ever get used to this being her reality. Goose rubbed against her legs, a reminder that things would never be quite normal for her or Fitz. She bent down and scratched the cat’s head. “Love you too, Goose.”
The cat meowed and wandered off a few paces while Fitz put Lizzy down. She scampered back towards her room, and Jemma straightened up.
“What about pizza for dinner?” he asked.
“I take it that whatever you tried first didn’t work?”
“It needs some refinement, yes.”
“Pizza is fine.” She smiled at him. “And while I have your attention, can you work on the plumbing for the lab tomorrow? If you don’t have anything planned.” Their place was on the older side and constantly needed plumbing and electrical work, which Jemma considered an excellent feature because it kept Fitz busy.
“I can.” He scratched his cheek. “I just need to find that missing spanner.”
Goose hunched up and hacked. Both Jemma and Fitz stepped back. A loud cough was followed by something metallic hit the floor of the mudroom.
“My spanner!” Fitz said happily, picking it up and taking it to the utility sink to rinse off.
Jemma smiled at Goose. “Thank you.”
The cat sat primly, his tail around his paws, and meowed.
“Yes, extra treats tonight.”
The cat trotted towards the kitchen. Jemma followed, after kissing her husband’s cheek and darting her tongue out to take a tiny lick at the flour there.
Fitz’s eyes darkened.
Jemma smiled as she walked down the hallway. She loved her home, her life, her children, her husband, and her ridiculous alien cat.