Title: Daddy's Hands
Genre: Family
Rating: K
Pairing: Bella/Embry (story is their son's POV)
Words: 500
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Prompt: picture of a man's oil-stained hands holding a shop rag

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Daddy's Hands

I finished tightening the oil filter and slid out from under the car to finish the job. As I reached for a rag and wiped some of the oil off my fingers, my breath caught and I froze. My hands looked so familiar—they looked just like his.

Mom had always said I was a miniature version of my dad, but in the past few years I had passed him up in height. As long as I could remember, my dad's oil-stained fingers had helped me up, taught me to walk, play baseball, and work on cars.

His hands often covered mine as I learned his trade, offering careful guidance and gentle correction. Despite their rough appearance, Daddy's hands were always just like his voice—soft and kind, and full of love.

The faucet in the shop sink must have masked his approach as I washed up, because I nearly jumped out of my skin when Jake came up behind me. Of course, all the wolves were able to move around in silence.

"Hey, kid. You finish the Ford?"

I nodded to his question and turned to grab a towel to dry my hands, pausing another minute as he gripped my shoulder. "You nervous, kid?"

My head dropped and I nodded again, jumping and turning to face Jake when he let out a booming laugh. I couldn't keep the frown off my face as I looked at him in question.

He patted my back and chuckled as he led me from the shop—the shop where I'd spent my childhood, the shop where I now worked alongside my father and uncles. "You remind me of your dad, kid. He was a wreck the whole time your mom was pregnant with you. He had no idea how to be a father."

That thought stopped me in my tracks—I had the best dad! All the other pack kids were a little jealous of me because my mom made the best cookies and my dad was the most patient, most-involved father.

Jake gave me a knowing smile as we walked to our cars. "You forget that he didn't have a dad of his own. He never had that example, and he was so worried he would mess things up with you. So see, kid, you already have a head start—you have that example."

I didn't get a chance to answer because my phone rang, and I heard my mom's voice on the line. "It's time, son. We're heading to the hospital now! Meet you there!"

My newborn son looked up at me, so tiny and fragile in my hands. I felt like the weight of the world was resting on my shoulders.

Dad came up and put his arm around me, reaching out one hand to softly cradle his grandson's head. I smiled at the tears in his eyes as he looked at me proudly. "Congratulations, son. I know you'll do a great job."

"Thanks, dad. I learned from the best."