Work Text:
Shiro pulled out his phone at the sound of the notification while he finished eating lunch. Seeing a new Snapchat message, Shiro opened it, grinning at seeing his goddaughter’s smiling face, a tooth missing, the remaining baby teeth bright white in contrast to her umber skin, and her small hands mimicking large paws. Lance had added little bear ears on top of Claire’s ringlets, and added a bear nose to her face with the message “Reminder! Claire-Bear is turning FIVE on Saturday! Party’s at 2 at our place!”
Shiro sent a Snap back, promising to be there and that he was excited. He loved Claire about as much as Lance and Keith did, as if the little girl was his own daughter, as if he had adopted her instead of his oldest friend and his husband. And she loved him back, which, to be honest, was probably the only reason Shiro was able to function.
The year before, after the car accident that took Shiro’s arm and left him bedridden for weeks, Shiro’s mental health wasn’t the best. Especially after he had to be let go from his career as a pilot, his dream job since forever. After delaying and putting off Claire’s repeated requests to see her Uncle Shiro, her fathers had finally agreed and she had happily marched into Shiro’s hospital room and climbed on his bed and started telling him all about pre-school and essentially catching him up on everything, as if nothing was different, as if her godfather wasn’t in a hospital room with tubes and wires and needles everywhere and missing his right arm from the elbow down. She snuggled with him, and they played games on her tablet and watched YouTube videos of puppies learning to howl and baby pandas sneezing. She cheered him on in physical therapy, and called him on the days she couldn’t visit, and made him get well presents during arts-and-crafts. She gave him ‘feel better’ kisses at the end of each visit, and after the doctors had declared his stump to be healed enough to be without bandages and the stitches removed, she had put a kiss on his arm, too. (Which made two nurses coo at the cuteness and Lance lament not having that moment recorded.)
Claire had more or less saved his life, her sunshine dragging him out of the deep dark of his own mind.
Which was why he needed a fantastic present to give her.
The problem?
He had yet to find it.
Shiro left the coffee shop and walked down the street, thinking. Usually, he had no problems in finding Claire birthday and Christmas presents, usually had them well in advance.
He had resigned himself to the fact that Amazon and Etsy were completely out of the question at this point, given that Claire’s birthday was in two days and he was taking no chances. He wasn’t certain that he would find the ‘special’, ‘perfect’ something at Wal-Mart or Target.
So when the sign for Holt’s Toy Shoppe caught his eye, he knew he had to go inside. Why not? He still had plenty of time left before he had to be back to work.
It was destiny in many ways, he would later realize.
Shiro pushed open the door, a small bell chiming above his head. The walls were painted pale green, the wainscoting white, with a light-colored wood accenting the windows and making up the counter.
Looking around, Shiro was certain that these kinds of toy shops only existed in books.
The shop was a blend of old and new, but in a way he didn’t expect. A wooden train chugged and tooted along a track around the upper wall. There were rows and rows of beautiful dolls and stuffed toys, all handmade according to a sign. Pokémon cards were sold along with traditional playing card decks and fancy looking picture books. There were Legos and wooden building blocks, doll houses and trucks, games for indoors and out, coding kits and books on crafting with duct tape.
But the toy that Shiro was most impressed with was perched on the counter. The doll looked so real. It wore a pale green dress with a purple sash and cute little matching shoes. The doll’s long pale brown hair was held back with a ribbon. The doll’s light brown eyes were focused on a book—a real book, a book of fairytales. The doll’s skin was made of porcelain and the closer Shiro got, the more he could see of the detail work. The eyelashes, the freckles, the lips, the large round glasses. The doll looked like it could be a living person.
On impulse, Shiro reached his hand out to touch the doll, his fingers brushing the arm…
Then, to his horror, the doll lifted its head.
And blinked.
Shiro jumped and let out a scream at a pitch he hadn’t been able to reach since before he hit puberty.
The doll—no, the young woman—blinked again, reaching up to push her glasses back on her nose and said, as if a grown man hadn’t just screeched like the cheerleader character in a horror movie, “Hello, welcome to Holt’s. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
Shiro didn’t respond, mostly because he was trying to regulate his heartrate and breathing and try not to throw up. (Years later, Shiro would joke that his heart had leapt out of his chest and into her hands at that moment. But, at the time, his heart was beating faster than a hummingbirds.)
The young woman just stared at him. “Sir? Are you alright?”
“Thoughtyouwereadoll.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry?”
Shiro swallowed and tried again. “I, uh, I thought you were a doll.”
To his surprise, the woman just nodded solemnly. “I get that a lot.” She set aside her book, hopped off the counter, and brushed her skirt with her hands. “I’m Pidge. My family owns the store.”
“Takashi. But my friends call me Shiro.”
Pidge’s eyebrow arched. “So what should I call you?”
He shrugged. Having a few years scared off your life apparently made you say weird things to strangers. “Um, Shiro works.”
Pidge nodded. “What can I help you with today, Shiro?”
“I’m, uh, I’m looking for a toy. A gift. For my goddaughter. She’s turning five on Saturday,” Shiro rambled. He brought out his phone and went to his photos, showing Pidge a picture of Claire. “See? She’s adorable, and amazing, and so sweet, and loving, and I really want to get her something special.”
Pidge nodded, smiling slightly. “She’s a cutie. What does she like? Favorite color?”
“Pink. Definitely pink,” Shiro said. “She loves tutus and tiaras and tea-parties, that sort of thing.”
“An all-around girlie-girl, huh?” Pidge asked.
“Pretty much. Though she’s also a little bit of a vicious soccer player, which you wouldn’t suspect because she also goes through her ballet positions whenever she’s playing goalie.”
Pidge laughed. “That sounds adorable. Kid’s got spunk and charisma. Can tell that without even meeting her. That’s a good thing, it says a lot about her.”
“She’s the best,” Shiro said again, smiling. “Best kid you will ever meet. Claire is just this ball of sunshine and honestly I don’t know where I’d be without her in my life.”
Suddenly, Pidge’s eyes widened, her mouth turning into an ‘o’, then her entire expression brightened. “I think I have something that will work perfectly.”
Pidge darted off towards the line of stuffed toys, searching for a moment, then standing on her toes to reach for something. She did not succeed, growled some, then tried jumping, muttering under her breath words that probably should not have been said inside a toy store.
“Curse my short arms,” Pidge groaned loudly.
“Um, need some help?” Shiro asked.
Pidge looked over at him. “Yeah, that’d be great. Easier than dragging out the stupid step stool.”
Shiro walked over and Pidge pointed out the toy.
Shiro looked at the toy and his heart jolted again.
It was perfect.
Fur the same color as Claire’s skin, eyes the same dark brown. Wearing a pink tutu and pink ribbons and little ballet shoes.
“She comes with two other outfits,” Pidge explained. “One is a soccer uniform, and the other is a slightly plainer dress.”
“She?” Shiro asked as he reached up to pull the bear down.
Pidge nodded. “It helps, when making the toys, to give them all a bit of a personality.” She pointed at the train that blew it’s whistle as it passed. “That’s Lucy and she’s a hard worker who also sings while she works, and once was offered a position at the Paris Opera but turned it down because she loved working on the railroad too much.” She pointed at a white stuffed toy dog. “That’s Rover, who likes the ocean but hates the sand, and his favorite treat is peanut butter cookies.”
“So, what about this one?” Shiro asked, gesturing to the bear in his hands. “What’s her name?”
Pidge gave him a Cheshire Cat-like grin. “The name I gave her is Claire.”
*****
A week later, Shiro walked back into Holt’s Toy Shoppe, a wide grin on his face. To his joy, Pidge was behind the counter and she smiled, a gleam of recognition in her eyes as she said, “Hi, Shiro! How did the party go?”
“As perfect as it can get when you put a bunch of sugar high kindergartners in the same backyard,” Shiro said. He pulled out his phone and showed her his new lock-screen, which was of Claire with her birthday present from Uncle Shiro. “Claire loves her bear.”
“I’m glad!” Pidge said, reaching to push a lock of hair behind her ear. “So, that means you’re not here for a refund…”
“No,” Shiro said. “I just… I wanted to thank you. For helping me. And for not calling the police when I invaded your personal space and then screamed upon seeing you move.”
Pidge laughed at that. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time. Seriously. I get still enough and I’m small enough that people think I’m for sale.”
“Still,” Shiro said. Nervous, he took a deep breath and said, “Uh, this is going to sound really kind of weird, but… Um, I was wondering… I was wondering if, maybe, I could take you out to lunch or dinner or coffee sometime?”
“Like a date?”
“Not if you don’t want it to be! I just, I just haven’t been able to get you out of my head for the last week, and I know you’d probably say no, the most logical answer is no, but I figured I could at least try and—”
“I’d love to.”
Shiro paused his rambling and looked at Pidge. “Really?”
She nodded. “Really.” She grabbed a sticky-note from the counter and quickly scrawled on it, passing it to him. “Here’s my number. And my brother comes in at two if you want to go grab coffee then.”
Shiro felt himself relax. “Yes,” he said. “I’d like that very much.