A/N: Based on the cute video of Prince Harry and the Popcorn Thief (Toddler)
When he'd learned about the Olympics in first grade, he'd found out that, for over two thousand years, people had gathered together to watch sporting events unfold as a select few competed for the coveted title of Olympic Medalist.
For a while, little Jack Shephard had dreamed of being an athlete, of picking one of the sports he really loved and dedicating himself to being the best at it, just like all of the really cool people he'd gotten to watch on TV.
It was the 1976 Montreal Summer Olympics. He was a few months short of turning seven when he watched the United States sweep the Olympic Gold medals in swimming and decided that that would be his sport. He'd always loved being in the water, his mother constantly joked that he was her little fish. It was perfect for him.
But his dreams had been shortlived. When his father, Christian Shephard, a renowned spinal surgeon, told him he would follow in his footsteps, it'd been final, set in stone, his fate determined.
Still, he hadn't let his love of sports die. He'd managed to balance his dad's demands and his athletics in high school, thriving as the Bears' quarterback.
Football was a sport he'd been a natural at, but most of all, it was a sport neither of his parents wanted him to play, which was, of course, why he did it in the first place. It was his one chance at rebellion. His skills and excellent grades had earned him a full ride to Columbia University, and his father had no choice but to bite his tongue.
He'd played through college, and he kept going to maintain his scholarship, but his main reason was that he didn't want to admit to his family to himself that his passion was gone. He didn't want his dad to think he'd been proven right when all he'd realized was that he'd let his dreams die to please a man who would never love him and he was too old to start over.
Still, he found himself an admirer of sports, athletes, and sportsmanship.
He was an avid baseball fan, though his team of choice, the Red Sox, disappointed more often than not. Their losing streak was a running joke amongst the fans, but it didn't stop him from loving them. They had brought home a miraculous title in 2004, which he'd celebrated with more alcohol than he should have, they'd been getting their asses kicked since. Damn, A-Rod.
Still, he hadn't passed up the chance to watch them play live. When his childhood best friend, Marc, had called weeks ago inviting him to see a Red Sox vs Angels match, saying he had tickets, his instinct had been to say no. But how could he? He'd done nothing for himself, nothing fun, since his divorce and his father's passing three years prior, he deserved something, and, with a little bit of a push from Marc, he'd said yes.
Sitting in Angel Stadium, he found himself relaxing. Attending a live sporting event reminded him of how sports could bring people together and reignited the sport-loving child within him. The vibrations of the crowd, the smell of hot dogs, popcorn, and beer, and the late afternoon sun lowering in the sky and painting it shades of pink and orange fed his soul in a way he couldn't remember ever having last.
Neither he nor Marc had resisted the urge to snack. While baseball was a fairly slow-paced sport, the anxiety building within them was enough of an excuse for each of them to buy the biggest buckets of popcorn available. He'd rationalized that out of the overpriced snacks, it was the least unhealthy option. Yet still, he'd paired it with a large Coke.
He was in mid-conversation with Marc, talking game strategy options and cussing the coach for the choices he'd made as they chewed on their respective popcorn when he reached into his bucket for more and felt something odd.
Startled, he looked to his right and found himself staring at a blue-eyed toddler who was happily placing popcorn — his popcorn — in his mouth as he swayed happily from side to side on a brunette woman's lap.
His first instinct was to be mad at the woman. How could she not have seen this child eating popcorn, a choking hazard for someone so little? How could she not have seen him stealing popcorn from a stranger? How could she have allowed it?
But then he realized that she was having a deep conversation with the woman sitting beside her, on her other side. Distracted, just like he had been when he'd also failed to notice the toddler's small hand smuggling popcorn out of his bucket. Popcorn, he noticed, that he'd just stolen again!
"Hey!" He pulled the bucket away on instinct, holding it to his left. He'd sounded more stern than he'd wanted to, but the boy hadn't been spooked, offering him a cheeky grin instead. The woman, however, turned around, shocked and confused, until she spotted the remnants of popcorn at the corners of the boy's lips.
"Aaron! What did you do?", she wiped away at the boy's face and then looked at Jack. "Sir, I'm so sorry, he's never done this before, I swear." He saw a blush cover her freckled cheeks. It made the pale green of her now wide eyes even clearer. In them, he saw honesty and a hint of fear.
He remembered that expression on his own face, whenever his father had been disappointed in him. He'd fill up his glass of scotch, sit on the armchair of his office that was off limits to everyone else, and tell him how he wished Jack was more like him. He'd often raise his voice, point out all of his flaws. And sometimes, if he got up from his chair and walked close enough to pinch Jack's cheeks in one hand, he'd get that exact same look.
"It's okay.", he said, trying to sound comforting and true. After all, he'd been startled more than offended. To show he meant it, he reached into the bucket and pulled out a single popcorn, offering it to the boy. "Here, buddy, a peace offering."
The boy quickly grabbed it and popped it into his mouth, once again swaying on the woman's lap as he chewed with his mouth half open.
"Thank you." said the brunette, as she reached out her hand to shake his. "I'm Kate. And this little guy is my son, Aaron."
She ruffled the boy's hair and he giggled before leaning over towards Jack and reaching into the popcorn bucket with both hands. The woman, Kate, quickly scolded him, pulling him back.
"It's okay, there's a lot of it, I don't mind sharing."
He wasn't sure what made him offer. He was normally very frugal, not keen on spending money on things he wouldn't enjoy, and when he did splurge, like with the popcorn, the only-child instinct in him was to keep it all to himself. He had never been very open to sharing. But he couldn't say no to the boy with rosy cheeks who beamed up at him with the most innocent of smiles as if he hadn't been the sneakiest of thieves.
"I'm Jack, by the way." He fished out another popcorn and handed it to the boy again.
And so they continued.
The game suddenly didn't matter to him anymore (as Marc would point out later, in the car, on their way home).
Jack found out the woman Kate'd been talking to was her friend of over half a decade, Cassidy, who was also at the game with her own child, an older girl called Clementine.
Both single mothers, they helped each other out with child care on occasion and scheduled outings like the game to introduce both of their kids to new things and allow them to experience them.
He continued to feed the boy, playfully pretending to offer him popcorn but eating it instead, every now and again, pleased when it had the intended reaction of making the little guy giggle, and his mother smile.
She was passionate about everything she talked about, from how much she loved being a mother to Aaron to how happy she was working as a wedding photographer and being able to make her own schedule. She showed him the pictures she'd taken on her digital camera earlier that day, of Aaron and Clementine in front of the Stadium and on the seats inside, both still wearing their Red Sox caps then. (It would be a lie if he said he wasn't happy she had good taste in teams.)
He offered to take a picture of the two of them since he hadn't seen one in the mix and she accepted, coaxing Aaron into smiling the biggest smile he had ever seen for the camera. Her smile seemed to nearly freeze time every time he saw it, especially when it was aimed at him.
At the end of the game, she thanked him multiple times, not only for feeding her child a snack he'd bought for himself but for being so gentle and attentive — both adjectives earning snickers from Marc.
Something about her drew him in. Maybe it was the casual setting and situation in which they'd met that took the pressure off. Or maybe it was fate, though he hardly believed in that. But he couldn't deny that something had put her in his path.
And when she slipped her number into his hand on a napkin at the end of the game, he couldn't have been more thankful for sports, for bringing people together, in a way he hadn't even thought possible.