Archive of Our Own ^beta

«I'm bored,» whines Jazzy, long tired of waiting for Dad: even Ray's colorful umbrella fort on the terminal floor's gotten old.

Yancy sighs over his book.

Ray looks around, forehead wrinkling as he concentrates.

Mom gazes absently out the window at the rain.

«Let's practice sign language!»

«Okay!» chirps Jazzy, brightening.

Yancy watches them for a moment.

Ray's using Sabal's signs, not Eowyn's, and Jazzy's gonna be frustrated in no time.

Yancy looks to Mom.

Their eyes meet and they sigh together.

Mom goes back to watching the rain.

Yancy turns a page of his book.

Then another.

And another.

«I'm bored,» whines Jazzy. «This's too hard. I wanna play Pokémon!»

Ray digs out their Game Boys, handing her the one with Sapphire in it and keeping Blue for himself.

Jazzy settles down.

Ray, though ....

Yancy follows his gaze.

A tall man saunters past, shoes squeaking and water dripping from his red hair and scruffy beard.

"I have returned from battle with the elements!" he announces.

"Well, aren't you good and soaked now," drawls another redhead sitting a few benches over from them.

The man flops down next to her. "We're in the middle of the fair Scottish spring, Fen-fen, a little damp's to be expected."

"Yeah, well, people with sense stay inside when it's like this."

"Too bad I've run out then, yea?"

Ray digs in their bag.

The woman snorts a laugh. "You haven't run out: you left it all in bloody England with your German. You should've brought—"

Ray lights up, hops to his feet, and skips over.

Yancy pushes off—

Mom puts a light hand on his shoulder. «Let him do this. It's good for him to practice his English,» she murmurs as she keeps her eyes on Ray.

Yancy sits back, but sets his book aside.

"—an umbrella? Well, hello there."

"We have an extra one. Would you like to borrow it?" Ray asks politely, holding out the bright blue umbrella they got in Cinque Terre.

"Thank you, kind sir, but I won't be needing it. I'm going to listen to my sister here and stay safe and dry."

Ray nods approval. "Are you waiting for your dad, too?"

The man slides off his seat, crouches to Ray-level, and says, "That we are! He's coming in from working out at sea."

"My dad was working on the dam at Achanalt."

"It's a tiny world we've got! Our uncle Twenty-one's from near there!"

"Really?"

"Ginger's honor."

"Is 'Twenty-one' your uncle's real name?"

He laughs. "It might as well be. Ye see, there's too many 'John's and 'Jack's about, so we had to get creative to make sure we got his attention."

The woman rolls her eyes.

Ray nods, then offers, "I'm Raleigh. What's your name?"

The man sits cross-legged on the carpet. "I'm Edan and the lovely lady—"

The woman scoffs.

"—is Fenella. Is that your family over there?"

"Mhmm!" Ray plops down. "That's Jazzy and Yancy and my maman."

Yancy eases off his bench and closer for a better view.

Edan spots him, smiles, and calls, "You're welcome to join us, if you want."

Yancy sidles over, sits beside Ray.

"You're Yancy, yea?"

"Yea, and you're Edan."

Up goes Edan's eyebrow. "Keeping tabs on the little one?"

Yancy bristles.

"Don't mind him, kiddo," says Fenella. "You're just doing what ye should as the oldest—" Kicks Edan in the shoulder. "—and my little brother's being a bit of a jerk."

Edan rocks back to center, grinning.

Yancy relaxes, smiles at Fenella.

She smiles back.

"Excuse me?"

All eyes focus on Ray.

"Can I touch your beard?"

"Ray, don't—"

"Go ahead."

Ray stretches out a hand, pets Edan's cheek like it was a kitten, grinning the whole while.

"Whatcha think?"

"It's cooooool," breathes Ray.

"Always a pleasure to meet a man who appreciates my magnificent facial fur." Edan strokes his chin. "You want to grow one when when you're older?"

"Uh uh. Dad says they look sloppy."

Yancy cringes. "I'm sor—"

Edan laughs, eyes sparkling. "Maybe they do, but I look about your age without one."

Ray wrinkles his forehead. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three this past May."

"That's more than twice my age and ten years older than Yancy!"

"You're quick with your maths."

Ray preens.

««Raleigh! Yancy!»»

They crane their necks.

Mom points to the trickle of people coming from the gates.

«Dad!» yells Ray, throwing himself to his feet and streaking for the entryway.

"Thanks for talking with us," says Yancy, standing. "I'm sorry about Raleigh saying—"

Edan waves it off. "It's alright. He's a kid—and a smart one."

"He's lucky to have you looking out for him, too," adds Fenella.

Yancy ducks his head and smiles, then wanders over to Mom.

She's packing their things away while Ray and Jazzy bounce on their toes.

Yancy's collapsing the last umbrella when a laugh booms down the terminal hall.

Dad's voice snaps, ""I don't appreciate you and your little gang of—""

Yancy rubs the back of his head, as Jazzy and Ray whip their heads toward the sound.

""Ye hear that, Tor? He thinks we take orders from ye!"" yells a voice.

""The poor, deluded Yank,"" adds another.

""Must be all the ink fumes,"" suggests a third.

A big, black-haired man with a bushy beard and a barrel chest snickers, "Aw, relax, Becket. I'll betcha time with your—" Blinks at Mom. "—much too beautiful for the likes of you wife will refresh your spirits." Rolls to a stop, says, "Mrs Becket, I presume." Bows deeply, gently takes Mom's hand and kisses it. "Tor Reid, at your devoted service."

Mom giggles.

"Ditch this stick-in-the-mud and run away with me to lovely Glasgow, my lady."

Mom cracks up.

Dad's face has gone firetruck red and that vein in his forehead throbs.

"Stop winding the man up," scolds Fenella. "You're likely to kill him the way you're going."

Mr Reid—must be—turns to her—completely forgetting about Dad and Mom—sniffs, "Is that any way to talk to your father?" and squashes Fenella in a big hug.

"It is when he's torturing an innocent guy in front of his kids," says Edan.

Mr Reid hangs his head. "Shamed by my own children. On my birthday, no less!"

"Serves you right," declares Fenella and she steers them toward the exit.

Dad's still glaring at Mr Reid, even though Ray's hugging him around the middle and Jazzy's bouncing on her toes.

«Welcome back, Rick» greets Mom.

Dad grunts, scoops up Jazzy.

She throws her arms around his neck, coos, «Missed you, Daddy.»

«I missed you, too, Pumpkin.»

«Hi, Dad!» chirps Ray.

Dad ruffles his hair, leans over and pecks Mom on the cheek.

«Welcome back, Dad.»

«Thanks, Yancy. It's good to be back on solid ground again.» Mutters, «And away from crazy Scots.»

«What did they do?»

«They spent the entire flight singing.» Mutters, «Only the big one has anything like pitch.»

Mom laughs into her hand.

Dad scowls and that vein starts throbbing again.

«Don't worry—» Pats his hand. «—I'm sure we'll find something that can clear that from your ears.»

Dad huffs and sets out with Jazzy on his hip and towing his suitcase.

Mom shoulders their bag, takes Ray's and Yancy's hands and follows.