#his uncle loved him even though a branded baby would be considered trash by most people and he gave up his life trying to save him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

welllpthisishappening · 4 years

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Ice Time

Hello, hi, yes, hey there internet. You know what today is? In this mess of a world, today is an exceptional day because today is @optomisticgirl ‘s birthday. B is one of the kindest and most wonderful and talented people on this whole wide web, and you should all make sure to tell her that. Right now. Because it is B’s birthday, and because I love few things more than her love of Will Scarlet, here are about two-thousand words which include the following things:

An AU of an already massive AU, Will Scarlet dad-mode activated, snarky Killian, Will Scarlet best uncle in the universe-mode activated, babies, hockey legacy and the number thirteen.

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“She’s too small.” “Too small?” “Yeah, I thought there’d be—I don’t know...more of her or something.” Will tilted his head, something that probably would have been a laugh if he weren’t so goddamn exhausted bubbling in the back of his throat. And Peggy didn’t blink. She kept staring straight at the kid in his arms, an appraising look, like she was taking stock of an infant and not all together impressed with what she’d found.

“More?” he echoed. “You want to expand on that?” Peggy shrugged. “I don’t know. Just something. Like she could do something.’ “She’s a baby, Jonesy. I’m fairly certain sleeping and laying here, while being almost questionably small, is more or less her prerogative.” “What?” “Haven’t got that far in vocab, huh? Don’t tell Mary Margaret that, she’ll start instructing you out of pure teacher-like need.” Peggy stuck her tongue out, Will’s laugh finally working its way out of him and he could still dimly make out Killian talking to Belle in the kitchen. They’d arrived at the apartment a few minutes before — laden down with team-branded merchandise and another tiny stick, Killian’s grin looking almost abnormally large when he held it out.

As if it was payment in kind for unwanted gifts of yore.

“When’s the last time you blinked?” Will asked Peggy, widening his eyes when she flinched at the question. “You’re going to do damage to your eyes that way and then how will we get on the ice?” “We can get on the ice?” “Is that not why you’re disappointed in the overall size and weight of Evie?” “I didn’t say anything about her weight,” Peggy argued, tugging her legs closer to her chest so she could rest her chin on her knees. And Will nearly cackled at that — even through the lack of sleep — Peggy’s expression turning so Emma-like that it was almost like being smacked in the face with family-type feelings and something about the future being now.

“No?” “No,” Peggy echoed. “I just—I mean, when’s she going to be able to skate?” “There’s not really a scouting report out on her yet, kid.” Peggy seemed to consider that for a moment, mouth twisting in thought and eyes going thin enough that they were barely more than slits. Will had to bite his lip. He was fairly certain his kid had fallen asleep and he wasn’t willing to chance that with even more outbursts of vaguely familial humor.

“Do you think she’ll want to skate?” “With you?” Will prompted knowingly.

“I don’t like when you do the mind-reading thing.” “Ah, but you make it very easy.” She stuck her tongue out again. “You’re getting predictable, Jonesy. Got to keep your opponent on his toes.” “How long does it take for babies to skate?” “Probably when they have some upper-body strength.” She huffed, wholly and obviously dissatisfied with the answer. Will bit the side of his tongue.

“Well, that’s dumb,” Peggy grumbled. “You think she can hold a stick?” “Absolutely not.” “But we brought her a stick.” “That’s because your dad thinks he’s way funnier than he actually is.”

“That’s not fair,” Killian objected, walking back into the living room with an arm slung around Belle’s shoulders and an equally knowing look on his face. “This is just tradition or something.” “Don’t be bitter,” Belle chided.

“Am I being bitter or am I presenting real and true facts?” “Having to add the precursor of real and true before your facts is not helping your cause.” “God, babe,” Will said, “the fact that you can even think the word precursor right now is stupid impressive.” Belle laughed softly, head falling to Killian’s arm. She might not have been capable of supporting much of her own weight either. And that probably shouldn’t have made something warm and wonderful explode in the general vicinity of Will’s heart, but he still was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the concept of a kid and a family and Peggy was doing that staring thing again.

“When did I start skating?” she asked.

“Not during infancy,” Will muttered.

Killian clicked his tongue. “Fairly close though.” “Stop presenting my kid with unreachable expectations, Cap.” “Should we be offended that we don’t think Evie can reach Jones Line level expectations?” Belle asked lightly, tugging on Killian’s shirt until he moved with her. So she could sit down. “Or that they aren’t higher?”

“Legacy and all that,” Killian added.

Will stuck his tongue out.

And Peggy didn’t laugh, so much as she exploded with nearly eight-year-old noise, a pointed finger and impossibly wide eyes and—

A crying baby.

Belle jumped up, reaching a hand out, like she’d be able to help from the other side of the living room, and Will wasn’t sure what he was saying, just mumbled syllables and quiet encouragements, back on his feet before he’d entirely realized he’d decided to stand. He swayed on the spot, Killian shifting back into Peggy’s space when her lower lip started to tremble.

“It’s ok, Jonesey,” Will said, eyes flitting her direction.

She sniffled.

“Evie doesn’t even have any hair.” “Yeah, well you’ve got enough for all of us combined. So, you win on that front.” “Don’t tell Emma that,” Killian warned. “She’ll take personal offense to the state of Peg’s braid.”

Peggy’s hand flew to her hand, more than a few strands already coming loose by virtue of her constantly flailing limbs. Belle’s head dropped, resting on the top of Killian’s, even as her shoulders started to shake. None of them were apparently good at controlling their laughter, it seemed.

That was kind of nice.

Super nice, even.

Maybe Will was the one who needed to work on his vocabulary.

“I bet she can skate,” Peggy announced. “She’s got to, right?”

There was enough conviction in her voice that Will stopped swaying immediately, tilting his head when he met Peggy’s gaze. Steady. Even. Decidedly Jones-esque. With a stubborn streak that ran several miles wide, on and off the ice, and Will didn't bother mentioning that.

Killian would probably bring them another stick if he did.

“Maybe you’ll be able to teach her some better trash talk than just sticking your tongue out, huh?” Will asked, careful not to let his voice shake. Belle sniffled that time.

He lifted his eyebrows when he didn’t get an immediate answer, the muscles in his neck starting to protest the angle he was keeping them in, but then—

“I’m a way better trash talker than MD is,” Peggy said. “Yeah, I can do that.” Will hummed. “I know you can. And maybe when she can lift her head on her own, we’ll get her on the ice with you, ok?” “Yeah, ok.” It took a little longer than that.

After more family skates and another Winter Classic, photos on a variety of websites and hanging in frames on more than one wall of Belle and Will’s apartment. But then there were tiny skates being bought and Emma offering to braid Evie’s hair because “seriously, I’m so good at it, it’s absurd,” and Will didn’t hold his breath when his kid got on the ice with Killian’s kid. He wasn’t really sure he was breathing at all, so he couldn’t possibly hoard any sort of air.

“You’ll pass out if you don’t get consistent oxygen to your brain,” Killian pointed out, dousing Will’s skates with snow when he stopped next to him.

“You suck at that.” “Breathing?” “Stopping.” “Eh, yeah, well, that might be true. But, uh—you don’t.” “Suck at stopping?” Will quipped.

“Don’t be an idiot. This is—” “—Honestly, if you tell me that you’re proud of me right now Cap, I’ll find a stick and check you.” Killian chuckled, bumping his shoulder against Will’s and neither one of them seemed all that inclined to skate. There was a deeper meaning to that. If Will thought about that too long he might cry and he couldn’t possibly cry before Belle did.

And she was way too busy holding Evie up, while Peggy skated backwards in front of them and both Ruby and Mary Margaret took a rather large album’s worth of pictures. Emma might have been recording it. Or sending video to Matt.

The specifics of it didn’t matter. It was all nice.

Super nice, even.

The best kind of nice possible.

“I won’t do that then,” Killian promised. “I don’t think I could hold up against a check at this point, honestly.” “Because you’re old.” “Exactly.” Will scoffed, not entirely prepared for such a quick agreement or the overall width of Killian’s smile, pride in every inch. Even without saying it out loud. “So who do you think scores more goals overall in their career? My kid or yours?” “I’ve got more kids to choose from.” “Well, that’s not fair.” “Isn’t it just?” Killian asked.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” “How come you didn’t bring one of our sticks out here?” “I didn’t think annoying would be a confusing word for you, but—” Will cut himself off, finally taking that deep breath his lungs desperately wanted. “Thanks for being here, Cap. For all of it.” “And I thought we agreed you weren’t going to be an idiot.”

His whole body slumped when he laughed again, blinking quickly so he didn’t do something totally embarrassing. And Killian’s smile didn’t change, but the hand that landed on Will’s shoulder was heavy in a comforting sort of way, like years and experiences and hockey sticks none of their kids were ever going to use.

There simply weren’t enough hours in the day.

“You think she’ll take your number when she makes it pro?” Killian asked. “Or, like at the Olympics?” “Olympics, huh?” “That legacy, Scarlet.” Will scoffed, not entirely surprised when Peggy slammed into his side. HIs hand fell to the top of her helmet automatically. “Something like that,” he agreed. “You want to bet?” “Obviously.” They came up with terms later, shaking on it with photographic evidence and several future NHL stars watching on FaceTime. And none of it really mattered, even more years later, both Killian and Will pacing in a suite, while Emma eyed them with an obvious air of amusement.

And Margaret Jones made her professional hockey debut with the number thirteen on her back.

“Tough luck, Cap,” Will muttered. “Guess you can only have so much legacy.” “Is that a verb in this situation?” Emma asked.

“I have no idea. Ask Mary Margaret.” “She’s taking pictures.” “There are professional people who do that,” Killian said, grunting softly when Evie crowded into his space. Her hair was in a braid.

Emma shrugged. “It’s important to her and she said she was going to text Rol updates. But in even more important news, I guess this means neither one of you guys get to win your weird bet because—oh, my God, wait a second.” “What?” She opened her mouth. And closed it. And—

“Oh,” Belle whispered, a few feet away.

“Took you guys long enough,” Evie muttered, tilting her head up when Killian glanced at her.

“What do you know?” “How to do math.”

If asked, Will would promise it did not take him another few seconds to understand. That would have been a lie. It took a few seconds and another round of not breathing, but then he was adding and gaping at the ice and it all clicked.

“Thirteen,” he said softly. “Like—” “—Seven and six,” Evie nodded. “It was my idea, so.” “So?” “So I think that means you won, right, Dad?” She rapped her knuckles on Killian’s shirt. “Right Uncle Killian?”

“Eh, I don’t know, kid,” Killian objected. “This is a new number and—” “—I’m willing to concede on overall niceness,” Will finished.

Killian’s lips twitched. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Deal.” Emma mumbled something that sounded a lot like idiots under her breath, a kiss to Killian’s cheek and the top of Evie's hair before she moved back to the front of the suite and Peggy was far better at stopping than any of them. She scored in the second period.

And Will wasn’t entirely surprised when he opened the door the next morning to find a box sitting outside. With a hockey stick inside.

From Peggy.

#cs ff #again the use of that tag is used liberally here #but emma and killian are together and making appearances so #blue line!will scarlet #was that the tag?#i should be better at tagging things #anyway #HAPPY BIRTHDAY B #YOU ARE WONDERFUL AND A DELIGHT AND I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST DAY AND YEAR AND LOTS OF GOOD EXCELLENT THINGS

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