Written for the Hot Dad Awareness Week on tumblr. This is the cleaned up, extended version with ~30% more side characters. All the thanks to Ka, because this is really her brain child, I'm just the executioner that got carried away. Honestly, this should be known as the cotton candy and kiddy puke 'verse, my head hurts from all the fluff.
Warnings: Enough fluff to choke myself on, no jokes.
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Pan Pacific Daycare Centre
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Beginnings/firsts
In a world without the Kaiju, there are no Jaegers.
This is that one, where aside from Saturday morning cartoons, there are no monsters or giant robots built by the world to save the world. This is the one where Hercules Hansen is a single dad running late to pick up his three years old son from daycare, once again.
"Sorry, Ral—" He has just burst through the main door of the Pan Pacific Daycare Centre, apology already falling halfway out to Chuck's usual teacher when he catches sight of him.
"Becket went home an hour ago, Mr. Hansen." The man is all presence even when he is surrounded by an impressive array of colourful toys. He has amusement lighting up his dark eyes when he motions to the small kid curled up on a foam mat in the middle of it all. "Complaining about bruised shins, and how Yancy always gets the older kids."
There is also a little girl lying next to Chuck, Max situated between them. Herc relaxes and it is only then that he lets out the breath he hasn't realized he was holding in. He runs a hand down his face and tries again. "I apologize for the wait, Mr…?"
"I'm Stacker Pentecost, Mr. Hansen." The man supplies with an amused glint in his dark eyes. "I own the place. No harm done, I was planning to work a little later regardless."
Herc lets out a soft laugh before he is bending down to pick up his son. Chuck stirs but doesn't wake up even as he shifts the boy so he is nestled more comfortably in his arms. "Call me Herc, please."
Stacker nods, smile soft when he leans down to gather the little girl in his arms. "And this is Mako, my kid."
In this world, they both notice the lack of a silver band on their respective ring fingers when Stacker hands Herc Max's leash.
"It's nice to meet you."
They share a smile.
000
Battles
There is a shriek first that may have been someone else shouting Chuck's name. And then a resounding scream that sounded like Chuck's war cry. Perhaps that in itself should have been enough of a warning for when it actually hits him. Still, it's a little too late when the water balloon explodes over Herc's chest, drenching him from the waist up.
Chuck is cradling another water filled balloon in both hands, and the grin that spreads over his face as he catches sight of his father is just a little bit too bright for Herc to get angry at. "You're early, dad."
Leaning down, Herc reaches out to push back a wet lock of dirty blonde plastered against his son's forehead. "Yeah, thought it'd be a good idea."
"Sorry about that, Mr. Hansen." Raleigh jogs over, faring far worst with the way he is dripping from head to toe. "Chuck, didn't I tell you, the rule is tha—"
Chuck kicks him in the shin, sticks out his tongue and runs off. At this point, Raleigh doesn't even wince, he only tosses back another apologetic smile at Herc before running after Chuck who is hurling his water balloon at the little girl with the hair that looks blue beneath the sun.
(Not that she looks defenseless, not with the two water balloons she is throwing right back at his son.)
"Herc," Stacker is not loud but his voice always seems to carry. Herc glances over and the man looks a whole lot like an angel with the way he has an arm full of towels. Stacker gestures at his grey tee, soaked through and looking near see through. "Come on, I can lend you a spare shirt so you don't have to go home in that."
Herc is quick to nod when the towel is doing little for the uncomfortable pull of a wet shirt over his body. "Thanks, Stack, I'd appreciate that."
"Well, it's partly my fault anyway." Stacker shrugs and it is easy, like second nature, when he leads Herc back into the daycare centre with a guiding hand on the small of Herc's back. (And if Herc leans back into the heat of his palm, well, that is only fair.) The supply closet opens to the smell of laundry detergent and disinfectant wet wipes.
"Why'd you ever thought it'd be a good idea to sign off on a water balloon fight in the first place?" Herc asks, voice muffled for a second as he pulls his shirt over his head.
"The Beckets make a very convincing argument." Stacker answers, handing him a towel that Herc uses to dry himself, all the while looking pointedly away from the half naked man standing just a bit too close in the narrow hallway. "But at least I wasn't the one working overtime filling those balloons with water."
Herc laughs, and it's a lovely sound. And it is just as nice when the man puts on a shirt with the PPDC logo plastered against the front. It is a little like laying down a claim that doesn't mark the skin.
000
Sick Days
Because even with nearly a decade of experience as a pilot for the Royal Air Force, Sergeant Hercules Hansen has only been a father for three. Still, the call comes regardless, even when he has been meticulous about Chuck getting all his vitamin C.
Herc makes it to the daycare centre in record time, spraying dust and sand as he parks his slick black motorcycle rumbling something low and smooth between his legs. And already, Tendo Choi is waving him in from behind the reception, an indecipherable smile over his face when he gestures to the side, where the man himself, Stacker Pentecost is waiting.
"How is Chuck?" He asks, his helmet still tucked under one arm, worry in every little motion he makes. Stacker takes him down the hallway with a light touch to the crook of his arm, explaining as he goes. "We had our nurse take a look at him, he's fine at the moment, a bit of a fever. But we gave him some fluids and kept him in the infirmary."
They pass the classrooms where Raleigh is reading a story out loud, complete with wild hand gestures and strange voices as his older brother watches over the other groups of kids complete their arts and crafts of the day. Stepping into the infirmary, they are greeted by the sight of a small child dangling upside down from one of the beds, his black framed glasses resting crookedly over his face as he laughs at a man in a white lab coat.
"Is Newton alright?" Stacker asks, glancing at the kid who is also playing with a stuffed monster that is all black and neon blue.
The nurse rolls his eyes at the question, hard enough that Herc is almost afraid he would hurt himself. But he just pulls the child back on the bed, so at least half of the little boy isn't hanging off of the bed, his voice all worn, paper thin patience when he supplies. "Newt was eating glue again."
"It was for science, Herm!" The kid pipes up, grin wide as he pats his own exposed belly. Hermann only drags the white partitioning curtains out from between the two beds so the Hansens can have their bit of privacy from little Newton Geiszler and his odd fascination with blue glue.
Chuck is lying on the other bed, pink faced and while he isn't coughing or delirious, he is all heat when Herc touches the back of his hand to the kid's forehead. Herc brushes the sweaty locks back and it's a methodical motion that calms him in its repetition. There is a soft whine from the sprog that is echoed by Max lying by the pillow. And the sound makes him ache like it is his own body sick and in pain instead, something that every parent knows by heart.
But it is all warmth when Stacker reassures him with another light touch to the inside of his wrist. "Chuck's going to be okay."
"Yeah, I know. But it's just a little different when it's your own kid."
Stacker lets out a soft sigh as he drags a hand down his face, understanding in every line of his body, "Mako got the flu just last week."
Herc gives him a half smile in return. "…I should probably take him home, wouldn't want to bother you or your nurse."
"Herc, stay." Stacker drags a chair over to the side of Chuck's bed. He doesn't bodily force the other man into the seat but it looks just about the same damn thing with the way he levels his gaze on him, "I insist."
Herc huffs out a soft breath before sitting down and it is not helplessness, he is grateful. And Stacker isn't looking for a thank you but Herc still thanks him, just not in those exact words.
"…Alright, but just because I wouldn't know what to do if he gets any worse."
"Fair enough."
It is dependence, and it is something Herc hasn't allowed himself for a long, long time.
It is late into the afternoon when Stacker returns to the infirmary, where he is greeted with the sight of one Hercules Hansen sleeping with his head on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting over the crown of Chuck's head.
The late day sun casting the room to glow around them.
000
Bring your kids to work day (aka Chuck and Mako day)
Herc isn't good at a lot of things but what he is good at, he's the best at. This isn't one of those things. He doesn't know whether he can go through with this. Hell, even if he is the best damn fighter pilot the Royal Air Force has ever seen, Herc still has no idea how dates, and least of all, play dates work.
"I brought juice boxes." Herc offers when Stacker opens the door to his home.
And really, the sight of the Australian with a plastic bag of juice boxes shouldn't be endearing at all, but it is. Stacker looks away with a smile he can't quite hide before waving them in. "You didn't have to."
Herc nearly answers with something like I wanted to but Mako is already running towards Chuck with a grin. She doesn't quite tackle the sprog to the ground but only because she sees Max held up in Chuck's arms.
"Sensei, can we…?" She looks up, eyes wide and filled to the brim with fascination that only children get. She gestures to the back of the house and it's almost cute, if that's a word someone can use to describe the man, the way Stacker seems to melt as he nods. "Go ahead, Mako."
The two of them run to a backyard that is all carefully trimmed grass, unlike the mess of yellow and brown that Herc sees when he looks out of his own kitchen window. But like everything else about Stacker Pentecost, Herc doesn't expect any less. The beer is dripping with condensation when Herc takes one from Stacker's offering hands, the two of them settling down on the lawn chairs overlooking the kids laughing at what might have been Max running after his own tail in the backyard.
Herc doesn't actually know how play dates work but he imagines it to be something like this.
"—I've been told he is special." Herc tells him, resigned as he watches Chuck run after the Frisbee he is relatively sure Mako has intended for Max. Stacker hides his smile behind his bottle, a source of comfort in the endless uncertainty that is fatherhood. "Chuck's not dumb if that's what they are implying."
"You're just saying that, your kid is smart." Herc says, reluctant amusement curling his lips into a half smile. Stacker laughs and it's a low, deep sound that makes Herc's face warm to the touch. And it takes everything to keep his hand around his bottle instead of reaching over the short distance and—
"Dad!" Chuck shouts, hovering over Max on the grass as Mako stands behind him, looking just over his shoulder. And like all perfect moments, kids always know the exact moment to ruin it. "Max just pooped!"
The two of them still.
(But at least this, this is something Herc has dealt with before.)
"I'm coming, Chuck! Just don't touch it this time!" Herc places his beer down on the ground before standing up. He catches Stacker's look, something that is half disbelief and half sympathy, and adds with a sigh. "Don't ask."
Stacker bites back a laugh, holds up both hands and nods. "Special kid, I get it, Herc."
000
Alternate Universe
In a world without the Kaiju, there are no Jaegers.
This isn't that one. This is the world where the Kaiju are still the monsters from deep beneath the sea but the Jaegers are sentient robots with personalities and the accents to match. This is also their kids' favorite Saturday morning cartoon where Gipsy Danger and her friends fight against the evil that has descended on their world.
This is Pacific Rim.
The man picks up on the second ring, "Stacker Pentecost speaking."
"Hey Stack, it's Herc." He is leaning against the kitchen counter, scraping off the extra ketchup from Chuck's breakfast off of the plate. "You've got time?"
"It's Saturday morning, Herc, what do you think I could be doing?"
"Fair enough." He puts the dish in the sink, and continues. "Over breakfast, I asked Chuck whether he wants anything for the start of school next week, he told me, he wanted Striker Eureka. But that's my bike. Chuck named my motorcycle Eureka, and the sidecar Striker."
"It's also the name of one of the Jaegers in Pacific Rim." Stacker waits for any recognition from the other man, but the silence on the other end only gives him all the conviction he needs, "the cartoon Chuck is probably watching right now."
Herc leans over the kitchen counter so he can see the show playing on TV, pass where his son is sitting cross legged with Max lying in his lap. "What the hell is a Jaeger?"
"The robots."
"So what are those black and blue things then?"
"Kaiju. They are monsters from the sea."
"Kaiju. Isn't that Japanese?"
"Yes, Pacific Rim is a Japanese cartoon, Mako watches it with English subtitles. I assume Chuck watches the dubbed version?"
"I guess? They are speaking English." Herc absentmindedly hears something like elbow rocket. "...How do you know so much?"
"I own a daycare, Herc. There's little I don't know about the show. Mako loves it, her favorite is a tie between Gipsy Danger and Coyote Tango. Chuck's favorite is Striker Eureka, the one with the angel wings and the chest missiles." Stacker supplies like Herc knows anything about this giant monsters versus robots cartoon that his son is overly invested in.
Herc lets out a soft huff before he is walking into the living room to catch the last ten minutes of the cartoon, a show that has Chuck focused enough that he doesn't even protest when Herc pulls the sprog up on the couch with him.
"What would I do without you?"
"You would get your kid a motorcycle."
There aren't always lull in their days, but when there is, Stacker Pentecost is more than willing to sit down on the sofa with Mako, watching Pacific Rim as he talks to Hercules Hansen through the phone.
000
Endings/Lasts
This isn't the first time, but for once, this might just be the last time.
The clock is a countdown and it is striking zero. It isn't quite the eleventh hour, but it feels that way when Herc stays behind. He wants to say something to him, anything about them, but words have never been something the Hansens are good at, least of all when today is Chuck's last day at the daycare.
Of course, if he sits down and think long and hard about this entire ordeal of play dates and hour long phone calls, he would feel just a little guilty. But it has always been a convenient excuse, and he has never claimed to be the perfect father either. (And as excited as Chuck is for kindergarten, Herc is terrified that he will somehow mess this up too.)
Herc has an armful of Chuck's arts and crafts, most of which are Max's contorted face. He makes a trip to his motorcycle to drop off the art and comes back in to the sight of Mako and Chuck playing with their stuffed Jaegers, all of which have been repaired by Stacker, twice at the very least.
The last of the parents have cleared out well over an hour ago, and the Beckets have always been timely at clocking out. A few minutes before, Tendo has also popped in to say good night, that same indecipherable smile twisting over his lips. And then it is just the four of them, and it is like that very first time all over again. (Except this is the end.)
"Stack, give them to me." Herc makes to grab the chairs from Stacker's hands, the man who has been cleaning up the remainders of the mess that a last day always guarantee.
In any other situation, Herc knows Stacker wouldn't relent so easily, but he has been dealing with parents and children for a better part of an entire day. So it is with a soft admission that Stacker lets him take half the load. "Thanks."
They work in silence, in tandem, interrupted only by Mako and Chuck's soft murmurs from the other end of the room. And it's comfortable. He doesn't know how long, and he doesn't hear the ticking of the clock. But the room is spotless and they find themselves, once again, at that same stalemate where even their last excuse has ran out.
"Stack—"
"Herc—"
They both pause, each biting back the other's name, halfway to embarrassment and still pushing. They are relentless even if it is a start stop sort of courtship. And oh.
This is exactly that.
Herc doesn't ever find the words he is looking for, he finds that he doesn't need to. Glancing over to where the kids are lying sprawled on the foam mats, stuffed Jaeger toys clutched in their arms and Max on his belly between them, Herc steps up.
Instead of saying hi though, he only reaches across that short distance between them and brings it to a zero in a kiss that is all lips and perfect pressure.
XXX Kuro