Chapter Text
JULY 2029
The trio of blond heads leaving the jetway in San Jose look, at first glance, like any other young family: on one side, a man with a backwards Boston College snapback perched atop his head, joggers slung low on his hips as he wields a duffel bag in one hand and grips a tiny hand in the other; on the other, a well-manicured woman with soft golden waves and a soft-spoken voice, polished yet comfortable with her purse slung over one shoulder and a suitcase in the opposite hand.
The youngest blonde, however, is gripping tightly to the man’s hand, squirmy in the way only a preschooler can be, pink backpack on her back and curly pigtails high atop her head.
“Daaaaaaaaad,” she whines, practically bouncing from foot to foot as they step out into the terminal, “I hafta find the bathroom, like right now, please–”
“I know, baby,” the man tells her, blue eyes glancing down briefly at his daughter before darting around, looking desperately for the way out of the terminal towards the baggage claim.
“I’ve got her, Will,” the woman says, “the bathroom’s maybe two gates away, just watch our bags while we go.”
“You’re a lifesaver, sis,” Will relaxes a little bit as he looks down at his daughter. “Claire-bear, you okay with Auntie Grace going to the bathroom with you in two more gates?”
Claire nods, the look of determination on her little face almost enough to make Will laugh. “Okay, Daddy.”
“You've got this,” he tells her, and he knows deep down it's not just a reminder for his daughter, not when he’s the one changing their lives as a part of a fresh start for both of them.
His parents hadn’t known Will had applied for a job across the country from them until after the initial interview. Bill, for his part, stays silent as Colleen’s anxiety (like mother, like son) flares up, question after question arising about why now, why at all, when he was happy in Massachusetts, had a support system, had a whole life, had everything he could ever need here–
“I’m twenty-four, Mom,” Will had said, eventually, once she let him get more than half a syllable in edgewise. “I'm grateful for all your help, really, I am, but – I've never lived away from you, and we know how badly I want to work in sports, and none of the Boston teams are hiring.” He takes a sip of his water, sets the glass back down on its coaster.
“But San Jose’s so far away. And hockey? Honey, are you sure you're up for that, after–” Colleen catches herself, but everyone in the room knows what she means.
“I made it through Leno & Gabe’s seasons at BC just fine,” Will points out, “I can handle the hockey, trust me.” He pauses for a moment, chooses his words before continuing. “That and with Claire being ready for kindergarten in the fall, it’s better to make the shift now instead of after she gets settled in with a school system, don’t you think? And anyway, there’s no guarantee I’ll get the job, so I might just be getting my hopes up for nothing.”
What follows is a seven-week whirlwind of an offer letter, frantic apartment hunting (thank goodness for the relocation expenses reimbursement), and enrolling his daughter in a school system across the country on one Firefox tab while looking up the cost of shipping his Mazda cross-country in another.
Thankfully, telling Claire’s other grandparents had gone much more smoothly, and they’d offered their own resources to make things as easy as possible for their only grandchild before she leaves them, vetting childcare and pediatrician options for Will while he plans out every other step of the move down to the hour.
Grace, though, had been the biggest cheerleader, offering to use a week of leave from work after the Smith Family Cape Cod Fourth of July celebration to come cross-country with her brother and niece to get them settled into their new city.
“You didn’t have to, you know,” Will tells her late at night, settled in on her couch with a glass of wine after Claire’s gone to bed before their big flight the next morning. He tries not to think about how they’d managed to condense two lives into six suitcases, a car seat, and a file folder in his duffel bag. “Come with us, give up time with the cousins, sacrifice your holiday.”
“Of course I did,” Grace says, “you’re worth it, Will, don’t you ever forget that.” She squeezes his hand. “We might be a continent apart soon, but say the word and I'll be there. For you and for her.”
The lump in Will’s throat doubles in size, even though he knows it’s been true since Grace showed up in the hospital room almost five years ago, held her newborn niece in her arms for the first time, looked at her like she was the most important treasure in the entirety of New England.
“I know you will be,” he lands on eventually.
He’s come this far and taken the leap of faith that if nothing else, his older sister would have his back, just like she always has for as long as he can remember; it’s what siblings do, what family does, take one another and guide them into the sunshine, where it’ll be alright in the end.
The baggage claim goes fairly smoothly, all things considered, and once the rental van is picked up Will gets to work folding down the back row of seats and loading the car while Grace wrestles with the car seat. Claire, for her part, is content enough with watching a Bluey episode on the tablet Will’s parents had gifted her as an early birthday present until everything’s loaded up and her aunt’s got her buckled in.
The ride from the airport to the hotel, in turn, is also uneventful, with the three of them unloading everything into the room after checking in, since Will won’t get his apartment keys until tomorrow morning.
“I'm hungry,” Claire declares, flopping dramatically onto one of the beds. “Daddy, can we go get dinner somewhere, pretty please?”
“Tell you what, baby,” Will says, sitting down carefully next to her, trying not to aggravate his bad hip, “I've got some stuff I need to go pick up for our new house, but you and auntie Grace can have a Big Girls’ night, just the two of you, and order in a pizza. How’s that sound?”
Claire perks up. “Can she paint my toenails?”
“Of course I can,” Grace says from the bathroom, where the door's ajar and she’s getting set up for the week. “I only brought one color, so that means you and I are going to match–”
Claire squeals in excitement as Will tries not to wince at the sound, but he's relieved it’s been settled so easily.
“Thank you,” he mouths at his sister as he picks up the van keys. Grace smiles and shoos him away.
Target, thankfully, isn't horribly different from coast to coast, and it’s only a couple blocks from the hotel. Will checks through the meticulously curated list that he’d made on his phone, going one by one as he weaves his cart through the aisles.
It’s a little surreal to be hitting this milestone finally, when back in the day, before – well, before everything, Will supposes – he thought he’d beat Gabe and Leno to the punch. In reality, Ryan’s got a nice set up in DC, Gabe’s a stone’s throw from the Rangers practice facility, and Will's spent the last half a decade stuck in between blossoming young man playing house with a tiny human and adult child relying on what help his parents had been willing to give to keep the teenager who’d fucked up from becoming even more of a Smith Family Black Sheep.
At least he graduated college on time in the end, he thinks to himself as he examines the different kitchen cleaning supply options.
Eventually, once all the cleaning supplies are picked up, which is enough to settle him a bit and give him peace of mind about the apartment being ready to his standards before they even get any furniture in place, Will heads to pick up a handful of his daughter’s favorite snacks when a flash of teal catches the corner of his eye.
It’s too big for Claire, but getting the Sharks T-shirt to give her a little piece of his world, after all the uprooting he didn't give her a say in?
He adds it to his cart.
The long day’s clearly getting to Claire, if the scene in the hotel room is any indication.
Her backpack’s contents have been emptied on the floor: her battered copies of Goodnight Moon and The Velveteen Rabbit are next to her tablet, all three abandoned in favor of cuddling her stuffed bunny as Grace concentrates on painting her niece’s toenails.
“Hey,” Will says, and both of them look over towards him.
“Dad!” Claire moves to get up, but Grace gently grabs her ankle.
“Hold still, Claire-bear, I'm almost done,” his sister says.
“'Kay,” Claire says, letting out a yawn as she rubs at her eyes. Will walks over and drops a kiss on her forehead.
“Pizza’s in the mini fridge,” Grace doesn’t look up as she’s locked in on the smallest toenail.
“Great,” Will goes to grab it, and by the time he’s finished off three slices while chatting through all of the things he missed (apparently including a Very Serious Discussion about whether Barbie would rather go to a Celtics game or a Bruins one), Claire’s toenails are dry and Grace is putting away the polish, rummaging around in her niece’s suitcase while the four-year-old puts her belongings back in her backpack.
“I picked up something for you,” Will tells his daughter, producing the T-shirt, “I know it’s a lot of big changes because I got a new job with the Sharks, but I saw this and it made me think of you.”
“Thank you,” Claire chirps, moving to put on the shirt over her pajamas. It’s big enough to hang down almost to her knees. Grace, ever the helpful aunt, snaps a picture and sends it to the family group chat.
“Are you almost ready for bed?” Will asks his daughter after she takes the shirt off, and Claire nods. “Have you brushed your teeth?” Claire hesitates, green eyes scrunching up as she puts on her thinking face, but she shakes her head. “Alright, let’s go do that, and then you can decide if you want to wear a pull-up tonight or just your big girl pants.”
“I'm not a baby,” Claire pouts, and Will nods.
“I know, but it's been a big day for you and I wanted to have the backups just in case.”
“Mmkay,” she says, like she doesn't quite believe him.
“Let’s go brush our teeth,” Will says, and just like that, they’re on track to wind down their nights.
Picking up his keys from the front office goes smoothly enough, and Will’s bad hip sends thanks to every higher power above that the apartment building has an elevator, since his unit’s on the fourth floor. He turns the key to examine what he's working with as he sets down the trash can he’d filled with cleaning supplies to try to make things feel fresher while Grace is off with Claire to have a shopping day.
It’s not a huge apartment by any means: the door opens directly into the kitchen, and the living room’s not quite big enough for a dining table, but there’s two bedrooms and it has a dishwasher plus a sizable bathtub and it’s his so Will’s going to take what wins he can get.
He rummages through the can, pulls out the gloves he’d had the foresight to pick up yesterday night, and turns on his Apple Music playlist before getting to work.
His mom calls just as Will’s finished scrubbing down the bathroom, so he takes a moment to lean on the counter while he answers the phone.
“Hi honey,” Colleen’s voice crackles through the phone speaker, “everything going okay?”
“It’s great,” Will says, “I still need to sweep, vacuum, and mop, but the kitchen’s been wiped down and everything’s been scrubbed in the bathroom.”
“Good,” his mother’s voice relaxes a tad, “and how's Claire adjusting?”
“We’ll see,” Will says truthfully, as it’s still only Monday, their first full day in California. “Grace is supposed to be taking her shopping for bedsheets and a first day of school outfit, so we’ll see how that goes.” It’d been a point of whispered argument across the breakfast table while Claire had gone to town on her Froot Loops, but older sister stubbornness had bested him in the end.
“I can't believe she’s almost in kindergarten,” his mother says, “where did the time go?”
Will huffs out a laugh. “You’re telling me. I mean…” he trails off, thinking of how much his whirlwind of a daughter had completely upended his life, how he’d relied so much on his mom those first few weeks in the haze of first-time parenthood and newborn crying fits and utter terror he’d screw Claire up forever.
“She’s a great kid, Will,” his mom seems to know exactly what he’s thinking, even from thousands of miles away. “As mischievous and sweet and clever as you were at that age, you know.”
A pang hits him in the chest. “Yeah,” he says, wishing that for once, the rest of his family would recognize it: it doesn’t normally bother him, the way his extended family holds him at arm’s length after he failed to live up to his teenage promise, but seeing it beginning to creep into how they treat his little girl not even a week ago reaffirmed to Will that yes, he had made the smart choice in the end to leave that insular bubble.
They’ll never say it, and Will knows, at least, that his parents had let go of that disappointment that he’d committed such a blatant violation of his faith with permanent evidence the day Claire was born, but watching relatives coo over his cousin and her husband’s newborn or play with the twin toddlers of a distant aunt’s late-in-life blessing when most of them had been politely chilly at Claire’s baptism celebration reignited the hurt he didn't realize he’d still had.
(And if he’d prayed at Mass Saturday night a little harder than usual that Claire would find her people here in California, well, none of them had to find out).
“So,” his mom continues, “do you mind if we switch to FaceTime so I can see the space? Maybe help you visualize what all you need?”
“On it,” Will says, and he presses the button.
Once he's off the call with his mom and everything is officially cleaned up, Grace and Claire make the drive back to the apartment complex to meet up with Will.
He’s greeted with his daughter carrying a package nearly as big as she is with all of her bedding.
“It has flutterby – butterfy – butterflies,” Claire trips over the word, but presses on, stressing the syllables when she finally gets it right, “on it, so I hafta have it.” She’s following him out of the elevator, Grace trailing half a step behind with the other shopping bags in hand.
“Very nice,” Will tells her as he unlocks the door. “Do you want to see your new room, Claire-bear?” Claire nods, and he pushes the door open. “It’s not as big as Grandma and Grandpa’s, but it’s all yours, baby.”
“Woah,” Claire looks a little awestruck by the place, and Grace gives it an approving once-over.
“Your room’s the last one on the left,” Will points to the door, and Claire pitter-patters over to the door, dropping her bedding down with a thunk as she pushes the door open.
“It’s empty,” she exclaims, and Will and Grace both laugh.
“That’s the point,” Will follows her into the room, picking up the package and placing it in the middle of the floor. “This way, you get to choose the bed you want, and we can find a place for a dresser and your books and toys, too.”
“Really?” Claire’s eyes go wide at this.
“Yep,” Will chuckles a bit at her face. “I know you've had a big day already, but do you want to go pick out your big kid bed today, even if we don’t pick out anything else?”
Claire seems to think it over. “Do we get lunch too? I’m hungry,” she tells her dad, and Will laughs.
“I know somewhere we can do both of those things, actually.”
Will can count on one hand the number of times he’s ever set foot inside an Ikea, but it’s the only place where he’s reasonably sure he’s not going to be stuck in a time loop waiting for someone to deliver beds for two people, so he plugs in the directions on his phone and only gets them lost once.
After going to the food court for a quick bite, Will and Grace hash out a list of what makes sense to pick up today instead of looking elsewhere or making a separate trip out. Claire, for her part, is pushing her peas around the plate after finishing her meatballs and mashed potatoes.
“You have to try them, baby,” Will says, and his daughter pouts.
“Not a baby,” she tells him, and Will lets out a tiny sigh, trying to think of a way to convince a stubborn four-year-old to up her vegetable intake.
“Do you want to be as pretty and strong as Auntie Grace when she goes to the gym?” When Claire nods, he leans over like he’s telling her a secret. “Auntie Grace stays that strong because she eats her peas, kiddo.” Claire says nothing, but she tentatively puts a couple peas on her spoon and chews them instead of spinning them in circles, so Will counts it as a win.
Once they’re done with their meals, they head to grab a cart and weave their way through the displays. It starts off simple enough: a doormat here, a dish brush there, father & daughter testing out furniture while Grace jots down item numbers for the warehouse.
It’s a good system until it’s not, and it only takes a moment for everything to go to shit.
They’re in the bed frames section when it happens. Will's picked out his own frame and mattress and spots one he knows would be perfect for Claire.
“Claire-bear, what do you think of–” he looks down to find her and promptly short-circuits when he realizes she’s no longer holding onto the cart. “Grace?” His sister’s head snaps up from the mattress tag, and the fear must be all over his face.
“Do you know where she is?” Will asks his sister, who shakes her head. “Where could she have gone?”
Both of them look around the showroom and try to retrace their steps, but Claire’s nowhere to be found even after checking every last room they've stopped through.
“Oh, fuck.” Grace, who rarely swears, lets one slip.
“Shit, shit, how could this have happened, oh my God–” Will’s panicking, trying to steady his breathing, knows he’ll be useless to talk to an employee if he’s this wound up, when the PA speakers he didn't even know the store had come to life.
“Grace Smith to Småland front desk…Grace Smith to Småland front desk…”
Will’s not even aware he’s running until he hears Grace, slightly winded, pressing the elevator button to go downstairs as she leans on the cart. Luckily, the elevator is empty, so nobody sees the crazed look in their eyes as they get off of the elevator & take off towards the playland.
At the front entrance is an exasperated looking employee, a perfectly relaxed Claire, and–
“Oh my God,” Will says, because in the flesh in front of him are not one, not two, but three of the players for the team he's going to represent as of next week.
Even if he was only a casual hockey fan, Will would recognize the Sharks’ top line: Collin Graf, who’s gone viral for looking like a buff haunted Victorian doll; William Eklund, with his impish grin and wild blonde curls; and Macklin Celebrini, franchise center & captain who’s the face of his generation’s Canadian talent. Together, the three of them had dragged the Sharks to their first playoffs berth in nearly a decade, even if they’d ended up losing in the first round despite Mack’s hat trick against Dallas in game seven.
“Daddy!” Claire’s voice snaps him out of his stupor as she runs up and wraps her arms around him. In the background, Grace is showing the employee her license to prove she’s good to pick up her niece.
Will grunts, squats down to loosen her grip, and picks her up to continue the hug. “You scared the daylights out of me, Claire Catherine.”
“‘M sorry,” Claire murmurs into his shoulder. “I just thought Mr. Ekky was you from behind, I didn't mean t’ scare you.”
“I’m just happy you’re okay,” Will says truthfully as he sets his daughter down. “But a new rule for the rest of the trip: one hand on the cart the whole time, Claire-bear, do you understand?” Claire nods, looking deadly serious, and Will glances over to the trio of hockey players when he hears one of them snort in amusement.
“Thank you,” he tells them, and Macklin speaks up.
“Not a problem,” the younger man tells Will, “we’re just glad she’s safe.” Macklin extends a hand. “Besides, it’s always fun to hear a kid talk so much about hockey.”
Will shakes the other man’s hand and chuckles. “Yeah, she gets that from me.”
Mack’s green eyes lock on him, and Will's heart stutters as the other man seems like he might be trying to place him. Thankfully, the younger man doesn’t, so when he lets go, Eklund pipes up.
“Y'know,” Eklund says, “the Sharks play less than an hour from here, and we know people in the front office who might be able to get tickets.”
Will, to his credit, keeps a straight face as Claire lights up next to him. “A real hockey game? Dad–”
And who is Will to deny his little girl anything? Sure, he’s going to get the same tickets through working in said front office anyway, but the other three don't need to know that yet.
“We’d love that, actually,” Will says, and Eklund elbows Mack in the ribs.
“Let me look–here it is,” Mack pulls an honest-to-God business card out of his wallet and hands it to Will, who takes it and puts it away. “That’s our PR contact point, just send her an email and let her know I put you in touch with her.”
“Can do,” Will tells him, and Mack smiles the trademark gummy grin he’s known for around the league. “Seriously though, thank you again for making sure she was okay.”
“Any time,” Graf, the quietest of the trio, who seems vaguely amused by this whole interaction with his captain, finally speaks. He squats down to just above eye level with Claire and looks at her face-to-face. “Behave for your dad, kiddo.”
“‘Kay,” Claire tells him as she prepares to walk off with Will and catch up with Grace, who has the cart. “Bye, Mr. Graffer, Mr. Mack, Mr. Ekky.” The three men wave back to her as father and daughter walk off.
Grace’s eyes are twinkling in amusement as Will catches up with her.
“So,” she draws out the syllable, “those are your coworkers, huh?”
Will goes beet red. “As long as you don't tell mom we nearly lost her favorite Smith in Ikea of all places.”
“Deal,” Grace says, glancing down to make sure Claire’s hand is still on the cart, “but do they have any idea that you–”
Will rolls his eyes. “As if they'd say it if they did.”
“Fair,” she tells him, “but once they realize? That’ll make things a whole lot more interesting.”
“I'm sure it will,” Will’s answer is diplomatic as he steps back out of the elevator. “Now come on, the apartment’s not about to furnish itself, let’s go.”
“Yeah,” Claire pipes up, “otherwise I'm gonna hafta sleep on the floor forever and ever and that’d be so boring.” She emphasizes those two words in particular and Will and Grace crack up.
Maybe, just maybe, this city won’t be so bad after all.