This is a little woodle (writing doodle) that I've had on my computer for some time now. I think at some point I was going to actually go somewhere with it, but the place where it was going has long since been lost or misplaced, so don't ask me to continue, please.
Someone complained on my IanOC fic that there isn't enough BenAbby fanfiction out there, so here it is, some very cute and fluffy BenAbby parenting goodness.
The bright halogen lights of the hallway outside the Charles Carroll High School Auditorium temporarily blinded Ben Gates, and he rubbed his eyes, looking at the program rolled in his hands. "1776- Charles Carroll High School drama department." He knew his daughter's name was somewhere inside- Mercy Otis Warren Gates: Abigail Adams.
"Come on, Ben, I want to get a picture of Mercy in her costume!" Abigail, ever the photo-opportunist mother and wife, said with a hurried look, rushing off with Ben, though a bit taller than her, rushing to keep up.
Their daughter was standing by the dressing rooms, smiling and laughing with her friends and receiving her compliments on a great performance with grace. A tall young man, also still in costume, emerged from the stage door with a bouquet of roses- presenting them to her, she smiled and blushed and kissed him on the cheek. Ben fought the urge to rush in, the protective father to the last. That was Jack Doyle, the young man who'd played Jefferson. For the last two weeks he'd heard nothing but gushing remarks over how well Jack played Jefferson, and he had to say, grudgingly, the young man had done quite a good job.
Abigail was fussing over them, taking pictures and calling other cast members over- John Adams, Martha Washington, Edward Rutledge- urging them to scoot in, make room, smile!
"Dad!" Mercy said, breaking from the pictures sounding alarmed and excited. He came over and hugged her. "Easy on the stagepaint, Dad. I don't want to ruin your coat." She broke away from him, roses still in hand. "Dad, this is Jack. Jack, this is my father, Mr. Gates." The young man had followed her, standing somewhat stiffly behind her as she introduced her facther.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gates." Jack said, stepping forward and shaking Ben's hand firmly. Ben grudgingly smiled.
"Excellent performance tonight. You should all be very proud of yourselves."
"Hey, Merce, you coming?" A friend jangled keys at her and pointed at the door. Mercy looked at her dad.
"Cast party, Dad- Can I go?"
"Ask your mother." Ben said, looking at his wife to see if she'd gotten enough photos.
"Stay safe!" Abigail said, loading the camera back into its bag and pulling her husband towards the door. "I saw that look you gave Jack." She said as he started the car.
"What look?" Ben asked innocently.
"That 'Take your hands off my daughter, you juvenile delinquent' look. Mercy's growing up, Ben. Give her some free rein."
"I wouldn't have a problem with her dating if she'd choose someone more appropriate." Ben said gruffly.
"His choice in wearing his hair long does not make him a juvenile delinquent, Ben!" Abigail said exasperatedly. Ben shook his head.
"I still don't like him, Abby. You know that."
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Ben glanced up from the progressively aging photos of his daughter scattered across his desk to hear the front door open and close. He didn't get up, waiting for the familiar crash of keys on the hall table and the soft footsteps, then the door opening and closing and the shower going on.
Ten minutes later, the shower turned off, and the footsteps went down the hall again- a light turned on at the end of the dark hallway, and the light turned off again. Ben slowly got out of his chair, trudging down the hall to kiss his daughter good night.
Her room was messy- she got that from both parents- and the walls were still blue, never repainted pink when it transpired that the baby who was supposed to be Thomas Jefferson Gates was, in fact, a Mercy Otis Warren Gates. Posters covered one wall, a huge shelf full of books another. Ben gazed fondly at the books. Many of them were his old history textbooks.
The first sentence she'd uttered as a child had been, "We hold these truths." Her Grandfather Gates had never laughed so hard when he'd heard that childish voice, the possessor staring gravely at a flag in the den. The kindergarten teacher had sent a slightly angry note home the first day of school saying that Mercy already knew how to read and she was quoting the first amendment about free speech and what that had to do with why she wanted to go to the library and get her own book because "Hop on Pop" was under her. From the time she had been a small child, Mercy Otis Warren Gates had grown up in the presence of History, and History had gladly welcomed her in.
Ben gently nudged aside the soundtrack and DVD versions of "1776" and "The Last of the Mohicans" into her book bag, picking up the wayward copy of "The Patriot" and setting it on the bookshelf that housed her DVD collection. He smiled at the sleeping form of his daughter, and was just about to bend over to kiss her goodnight when she turned over sleepily.
"You gotta be more quiet in here, Dad." She said with a little smile, and Ben gave a chuckle.
"I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you, Merce." He said, kissing her on the cheek.
"Thanks, Dad. Good night."
"Don't let the bed bugs bite." Ben added, and he heard his daughter groan as he closed the door and let her go to sleep, dragging himself down the hallway to his office to turn the lights off and back to his bedroom to get to bed. He had a long day ahead of him tomorrow, he thought to himself as he lay down beside Abby, already sleeping soundly. Pick up Riley and Emma from the airport, call ahead to make sure the bookshop has the signing room reserved for us, get Abby a birthday present…So much to do and so little time. Never enough time.
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Maybe I'll be inspired to write more after I see NT 2 this Friday the 21st when it comes out. Who knows?