Work Text:
“Aww, Poppa,” Delia smiles as she walks into the house and sees Henry with a photo album open on the coffee table. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
He looks up at her with tears in his eyes, his graying bangs falling messily onto his forehead. He sniffs and looks back at the photos.
She chuckles and makes her way over to him, seamlessly sliding into his lap the way she used to when she was a little girl. She may be in her mid to late twenties but he’s sworn she’ll always be his petit chou .
“You’re not eating enough,” he accuses grumpily while she laughs and wraps her arms around his shoulders.
“I’m eating plenty. I should know. I’ve literally got the diploma to prove it. Besides, second basemen need to be small and quick,” she tells him for the millionth time.
He sniffs imperiously. “Fine, but only because you’re right and you understand your own body.”
“And because I had twenty nine home runs last season.”
“You say that as if I know whether or not that’s impressive,” he teases and she knows he does know it’s impressive. He never misses one of her home games if he can help it.
When Delia had decided she wanted to play pee wee baseball, her Poppa had been concerned but her Daddy had been elated. He’d sworn up and down he could have gone professional when he was younger but the law bug hit him. Delia knows it’s all bullshit because he was a terrible catch partner when she was growing up.
No one had expected that she would be good enough to get scouted and get a full athletic scholarship to UT. Or that she would make the USA Olympic Softball team in her early twenties. Or that she would decide to play professionally for the Smoke once she was done with college.
Playing in Austin keeps her close to her parents. She’s got a degree in Food, Nutrition and Wellness from UT and a solid fallback for when professional softball isn’t an option anymore.
But that’s not what’s got her sitting on her father’s lap and trying to pull him out of a self-imposed funk on a Monday morning.
“Daddy at the office?” she asks him as she glances down at the photographs on the table.
Henry hums. “He’s got a new client this morning that he didn’t want Diego to handle. I think it’s something related to someone he grew up with. Not sure.”
“Control freak,” she lightly accuses her father. Maybe it’s unfair when he’s not there to defend himself but …
“Just as he always has been,” her Poppa agrees. “He needed to take his mind off of it.”
“I’m kind of surprised you’re not at the school,” she tells him honestly. “Is your classroom already set up?”
He hums again. “Your dad and I went in yesterday.”
“You went in … Poppa, didn’t your flight get in yesterday afternoon?” she asks. “And you’ve already got your classroom set up?”
He sighs and she sees the slightly embarrassed flush creep onto his cheeks. “We needed something to do.”
“You two are ridiculous,” she laughs. “You weren’t like this ten years ago.”
“You were in the same bloody city as us ten years ago. Your brother is …”
“In California, yes.”
“UT has a geology program,” he grumbles. “And a good one.”
“So that’s what it’s about. Thor wanted to leave Texas and you wanted him to stay,” she concludes. “CIT is one of the best schools for the rock stuff in the country. Don’t they have a miniscule acceptance rate?”
“Four percent,” her Poppa concedes.
“And UT?”
“Closer to thirty,” he grouses. “I get it, you know. I do understand. And it’s not like we couldn’t swing the tuition after scholarships. It’s just …”
“It’s just that you wanted him to stay closer to home. But isn’t it a sign of his growth that he feels comfortable enough to leave? That he knows he always has here to come back to?”
“Are you sure you don’t have a degree in psychology? Psychiatry? What does your dad call it? The brain stuff?”
She laughs and presses a kiss to her Poppa’s cheek before standing up and holding out her hands. “Come on. We’re getting out of the house and not moping about because you’re officially an empty nester.”
“I believe I’ve earned the right to be an empty nester,” he retorts but takes her hands and allows her to tug him to his feet. “I’ve raised a six year old and a four year old.”
“And have been a teacher of six year olds for, what, eighty years?”
“You’re the worst,” he lies and presses a kiss to her forehead. “What do you want to do?”
“I want you to show me your classroom and then I want to take you to lunch and send Daddy a bunch of selfies of us having the best day ever while he’s stuck wearing a tie, and then I’m going to take you to a museum so you can stop pouting that your son ran away to get an excellent education.”
“Some days I wish you were a little less like your father,” Henry points out as they head to the door. Her Poppa puts on a pair of sneakers and runs a hand through his graying hair. “Should I change?”
She rolls her eyes. “For a Poppa-Daughter date? Absolutely not.”
He nods and looks back at the table where the photo album is still open. “I’m proud of him,” he says softly. “I really am. I just … really miss him.”
“You were like this when he went to sleep away camp when he was twelve too,” she reminds him. “And everything turned out okay.”
“Sleep away camp was an hour away. This is … this is Pasa-bloody-dena.”
She snorts. “Get in the car, old man. We’re gonna make you forget that you’re sad that your son is in California and make you remember your favorite child is still right here to annoy you into a better mood.”
He stops and pulls her into a hug. “I’m not saying you’re my favorite child but I’m definitely willing to concede that you’re my favorite daughter.”
“I’m your only daughter,” she mock-complains.
“But you’re the best daughter in the entire world so I suppose the only of it doesn’t matter,” he answers, a little tartly if she’s honest. It makes her smile.
“Car,” she demands again, laughing, and he finally complies.
They still live in the same house she grew up in, so it’s an easy and familiar route to the school. Her Poppa’s had the same classroom, aside from when it was being renovated and he and the other nearby classes were shuffled out into trailers in the courtyard, since before she was his student. It’s hard to believe sometimes how much has changed but, more surprisingly, how much hasn’t.
“Is Auntie Pezza supposed to be here today?” she asks when he holds the door open for her to enter the building.
“He was set up last week,” he tells her. “He’s in New York visiting with his parents while they’re in the country. He’ll be back on Wednesday for the start of school on Thursday.”
“Remind him that he’s got to actually ask for the meet and greet with the team this year and can’t randomly show up on a day he knows we have practice. We’ve got a new PR rep and he’s …” she blows out a breath. “Let’s just say I don’t want anyone to take Auntie Pezza’s smile away.”
Henry chuckles. “I’ll remind him,” he promises. It’s a short walk to the classroom and when he opens the door, Delia can only smile. It’s so familiar and so new at the same time.
“I can’t believe I used to fit in those chairs,” she says with a smile, walking over and running her fingers over a desk. “You have more pride flags,” she adds.
“Every single one that hasn’t been shot down by the school board,” he agrees. “You know, your dad is getting kind of fed up with them. He’s talking about running in the next term.”
“For school board?” she asks, leaning against his desk. “Isn’t that usually reserved for people with kids in school?”
Henry shrugs. “It’s not a requirement. And I think it kind of makes sense. He may not have a kid in the school system anymore but he does have a husband in there.”
“Daddy always did want to save the world,” she says with an indulgent smile. “Just let me know if he starts seriously talking about it, okay? I wanna be there the whole way.”
“Of course, petit chou ,” he assures her and she rolls her eyes and doesn’t complain.
They spend a little time rearranging parts of the room and Delia helps her Poppa assign seats before they head out for their lunch. They choose a Mexican place her dad will both complain about them going without him and complain that it’s not authentic and they should be ashamed of themselves.
When she sends him a photo, she’s not disappointed.
She promises to bring him a take away bag and he stops complaining.
The museum is fine and it distracts her Poppa long enough to pull him fully out of his funk. He goes on and on about this artifact and that painting and honestly, Delia’s not sure why they don’t do this more often, especially when she’s not traveling. She makes a mental note to start going out with just her Poppa one on one at least once a month when she’s able.
By the time they get back to the house, her Daddy is home and sitting on the couch with the photo album her Poppa had been looking at open on his lap.
“He was so small,” her dad breathes when he looks up and sees them.
Delia groans but Henry smiles indulgently. “I know. And now he’s off being an independent young man.”
“Independent?” Alex snorts. “He said he’s been blowing up D’s phone all day but she hasn’t been answering him so he finally texted me.”
Delia clenches her jaw and shoots her father a dirty look. Henry, for his part, looks some heartbreaking combination of devastated and lonely. He pulls out his phone and when he doesn’t see a notification, he nods and heads to the kitchen, probably to make some tea and slip something alcoholic into it.
“Thanks, Dad,” she says as she rolls her eyes.
“How was I supposed to know today was about distracting him?”
“Deductive reasoning?” she shoots back. “Johnny was only texting me because he wanted me to make sure Poppa was okay since he would be home by himself today. And now you’ve got him thinking that his son doesn’t care .”
“Well I personally don’t care for that sass, Delia Antonia.”
“You made me,” she shoots back, just like every time he gets pissy about one of the traits she definitely got from him. “Now go fix it. I’ve got dinner with Wes tonight.”
Her father sighs as if he wasn’t going to go wheedle his husband back to happiness anyway. “Fine, but not because you said so,” he says, standing and pulling her into a hug. “Thanks for taking care of your Poppa today.”
She hugs him back. “I miss spending time with him,” she replies. “And you. Come to the game on Friday?”
“Already got our seats,” he promises. “But stop by for dinner any time, yeah?”
“Of course. As long as you’re cooking,” Delia grins, kissing her father on the cheek and then backing away. “I’ll text Thor and let him know his plan to make Poppa feel better about him being gone backfired and it was all your fault. Have fun with …” She cuts herself off and shakes her head. “Just go make him happy again. I don’t want any maudlin texts of can you come spend the night so your poor Poppa isn’t missing both of his children at once coming from him at nine tonight.”
“Bold of you to assume he’s going to be awake at nine,” her father laughs. “I’ll text you later, baby girl.”
“Love you, Daddy,” she says as she heads to the door. “Love you, Poppa!” she shouts and Henry pokes his head out of the kitchen with a soft smile.
“Love you too, Delia,” he tells her before ducking back in. Her dad winks and says, “That goes double for me. Love you, kiddo. Have a nice dinner.”
She waits until she sees her dad start heading for the kitchen and then ducks out. Immediately, she dials her brother. “Oh my god, Thor, Poppa’s like some dramatic Dickens character. He was crying over one of the photo albums when I got here. Why the fuck did you have to go to California and leave me with those two basketcases?”
Her brother’s laugh makes her smile as she climbs into her car.