Sheriff Stilinski aka "Dad" (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reallyproudofyou) wrote2014-05-25 09:37 pm
reallyproudofyou) wrote2014-05-25 09:37 pm
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muserevival || Quote of the Day 081.
“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
- Elizabeth Stone
John felt like he was going out of his mind. He was sitting in the hospital cafeteria with his four year old daughter, trying to keep his crap together so he didn’t upset her. She was a cluey little thing, so much like Stiles in so many ways. It was just hard to try to keep your emotions in check around one of your kids when you were worried sick about the other two. His family had grown so much. For so long, it had just been him and Stiles, but now it was them, with Scott and Melissa, and little Hope they had welcome as a untied link between them. He loved his family to the point there weren’t enough words to cover it. He had just always had an extra worry about Stiles, and the danger he could be in.
He was onto his fourth coffee, sitting there watching his daughter draw pictures of unicorns and fairies across the page of the notebook Melissa had fetched from the hospital stationery closet for her with a pack of crayons. Not doing anything was the hard part for John, but the kids in the pack were all adults now, and he had to respect that. It was near impossible to not think of them as naive and scared teenagers, not knowing what they were dealing with but still needing to face it nonetheless. They had already faced too much death and destruction, they didn’t need to be going through this again.
He checked his cell phone – again – getting up well into the double digits of times he had looked at the screen for any news. He was worried sick and kept looking at the door, though never quite sure what he was expecting to see there. He had a habit of fearing the worst, though this time, he knew it wasn’t an unfounded concern. Not by a long shot. He rubbed his hand over his face, having to forcibly fight internally not to just get up and race over there to intercept whatever it was going on. There had been too much time passed now for it to have an okay outcome. He rubbed his hand over his face with a ragged sigh, not managing to stifle it now.
But when his hand dropped back down onto the table, a much smaller one slipped inside it. He looked over at his little girl, big brown eyes so much like her mom’s staring back at him from under a mop of dark curls clipped back with a couple of glittery barrettes. “It’s okay, Daddy. Gus is a fairy, he’ll fix everything. They have fairy dust,” she said with such pure innocence and simple emphasis. John wanted to cry. In fact, he was pretty sure if he tried to reply to her, he would. Instead, he just put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. All he could do was hope like friggen hell that something was watching over these kids tonight and their little daughter didn’t have to be burdened by the notion of death so young like he beloved son had been. Not being able to shield your children from pain and suffering was probably the hardest thing about being a parent.
- Foruntiltheendstarts psl
- Elizabeth Stone
John felt like he was going out of his mind. He was sitting in the hospital cafeteria with his four year old daughter, trying to keep his crap together so he didn’t upset her. She was a cluey little thing, so much like Stiles in so many ways. It was just hard to try to keep your emotions in check around one of your kids when you were worried sick about the other two. His family had grown so much. For so long, it had just been him and Stiles, but now it was them, with Scott and Melissa, and little Hope they had welcome as a untied link between them. He loved his family to the point there weren’t enough words to cover it. He had just always had an extra worry about Stiles, and the danger he could be in.
He was onto his fourth coffee, sitting there watching his daughter draw pictures of unicorns and fairies across the page of the notebook Melissa had fetched from the hospital stationery closet for her with a pack of crayons. Not doing anything was the hard part for John, but the kids in the pack were all adults now, and he had to respect that. It was near impossible to not think of them as naive and scared teenagers, not knowing what they were dealing with but still needing to face it nonetheless. They had already faced too much death and destruction, they didn’t need to be going through this again.
He checked his cell phone – again – getting up well into the double digits of times he had looked at the screen for any news. He was worried sick and kept looking at the door, though never quite sure what he was expecting to see there. He had a habit of fearing the worst, though this time, he knew it wasn’t an unfounded concern. Not by a long shot. He rubbed his hand over his face, having to forcibly fight internally not to just get up and race over there to intercept whatever it was going on. There had been too much time passed now for it to have an okay outcome. He rubbed his hand over his face with a ragged sigh, not managing to stifle it now.
But when his hand dropped back down onto the table, a much smaller one slipped inside it. He looked over at his little girl, big brown eyes so much like her mom’s staring back at him from under a mop of dark curls clipped back with a couple of glittery barrettes. “It’s okay, Daddy. Gus is a fairy, he’ll fix everything. They have fairy dust,” she said with such pure innocence and simple emphasis. John wanted to cry. In fact, he was pretty sure if he tried to reply to her, he would. Instead, he just put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. All he could do was hope like friggen hell that something was watching over these kids tonight and their little daughter didn’t have to be burdened by the notion of death so young like he beloved son had been. Not being able to shield your children from pain and suffering was probably the hardest thing about being a parent.
- For
untiltheendstarts psl