Chapter 5: August 22, 2004

The next time Rory Daniels met Megan Green, it was late August 2004, and he was in the kitchen making lunch. He heard Tyrone’s door open, and then Tyrone yell, “What the hell, Megan?” and then her rapid feet out of there, followed by Tyrone’s door slamming.

Rory put down the tomato he was chopping and wiped his hands on a towel, then went to investigate.

Megan was standing in the hallway in pajamas of some sort, looking relatively dazed—and relatively haggard, like she hadn’t gotten much sleep recently. “Uh, hey,” he said.

She slowly turned her head to look at him. “When?”

“August 2004. You?” He glanced up and down her body, trying to gauge her age this time around. She didn’t look pregnant, but was still a little on the chunky side, not quite at MILF-level curves yet. The bags under her eyes made it hard to tell.

“Six,” she replied cryptically. “Sleep.” Mechanically, she turned and walked into his room. He followed, confused. She didn’t seem to notice, and collapsed on the bed, curling up in his covers happily.

Still confused, he turned out the lights and left the room, deciding she probably needed the sleep. Just after closing the door gently and turning around, he encountered Tyrone in the hallway wearing nothing but a bathrobe and looking mighty pissed.

Right, he had just gotten out of the shower a few minutes before Megan had arrived.

“You know, Rory,” Tyrone said, obviously annoyed. “I’m glad you get your little booty call once in a while, but I need my privacy.”

“Sorry,” Rory said, hands up defensively. “I’ll talk to her when she wakes up.”

“Wakes up?”

He shrugged. “Sleepwalking? I don’t know. Anyways, lunch’ll be ready in thirty.”

Tyrone nodded and retreated back to his room, and Rory went back to making lunch. He was curious where Megan was in the midst of all that, and glanced at the high chair he’d gotten from the store a few weeks prior. Dealing with a screaming baby, maybe?

Uncertain, he went back to work on lunch.

Tyrone was in a significantly better mood when he came to eat, and then he headed off to the university campus—despite it being a weekend—and Rory was left to his own devices.

He stuck his head back in to check on Megan, but she was dead to the world, and he figured he’d let her sleep as long as she wanted. He was jealous for a few moments, wishing that some of his short nights could have been joined with some time travel, giving him the extra hours for rest.

He wasn’t sure he wanted the rest of the caveats that came with her condition, though.

Content to let her sleep away, he returned to the living room and started playing video games.

When Tyrone called around dinnertime asking if she was still around, she was still asleep, this time no longer under the covers.

When Tyrone came home with three orders from Bamboo Wok—including one of hot braised pork—she was still asleep, and was under the covers again.

Rory and Tyrone played video games for a couple of hours after dinner, and then Tyrone turned in for the night, to get some sleep for Monday, and Megan was still asleep.

By Rory’s count, that was somewhere around twelve hours. Just what had made her so tired?

He quietly returned to his room, and turned on a flashlight so as not to rouse her.

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice dry. “I just woke up ... ow.”

“You okay?” he asked. “Lights.” After a few moments, he flicked them on. She was sitting on his bed, one leg bent in, looking quite a mess, still. She blinked a few times with the light. “You were pretty out of it when you showed up.”

“When am I?” she asked.

She probably didn’t remember the conversation from earlier. “August 2004. You?”

“Our first baby is three weeks old,” she replied. “And hungry. And ow.” She reached up and massaged her breasts. Oh. She probably was full of milk, wasn’t she?

He felt his cock stir, remembering his experience with her when the baby was a little older. But she had said that was the first time they’d had sex after his birth, because it wasn’t safe beforehand.

So wait, how would she get back to her own time, if she couldn’t—

“I probably can’t stay long,” she said.

“There’s Bamboo Wok in the fridge for you.”

“You know me too well,” she said. “But first, I’m going to take a shower and deal with my milk.” She smiled at him. “You know, of all the times I’ve visited you, this is probably going to be the fulfillment of one of my biggest fantasies: a break.”

He laughed. “Alright, I’ll go heat it up while I get ready for bed.”

“For bed?” she blinked. He pointed at the bedside clock. “Oh,” she added. “Sorry about that. I thought it was day when I popped in?”

“It was. You slept.”

She gave him a wan smile. “I needed it.”

“Anyway, I’ll get that heated up. Make yourself at home.”

“It is my home,” she replied. “And I was trying to walk into the nursery.”

“Tyrone wasn’t thrilled.”

She shrugged. “I’ll make it up to him. Go, make me food.” She waved a hand, and he did just that, heading to the kitchen. Once he stuck it in the microwave and hit the timer, he returned to his room and changed into pajamas, then hung around the kitchen waiting for her.