Based on a scene from 9-1-1, s03e15: Eddie Begins:

Teddy wants the Ducks and his daddy to be part of his presentation for show-and-tell.

Show-and-Tell

"Daddy!" His little boy's yells as he came loping into the Eden Hall ice rink made Ted's attention turn to the door, where Teddy emerged looking excitable, or as excitable as he could express due to his diagnosis. He'd been getting better with communication and using his words; it had been a breakthrough when Charlie got the toddler to say "I love you." Now, he was speaking in sentences – brokenly but in full sentences, at least to the best of his ability.

And the Ducks halted their practice immediately. They knew that when Teddy came in, it was Ted's time to do Daddy Duty. Not that they minded. Lucy and Teddy had stolen their hearts from the moment they met them. And Ted was grateful that his children had a bunch of "uncles" and "aunts." The Ducks spoiled his kids rotten. They loved Lucy and Teddy to death.

"Hey, Teddy Bear." Ted leaned down and caught his boy as he ran right at him, arms outstretched. "Did you have fun at school?"

Teddy didn't say it, but Ted knew that he did; Teddy loved school, maybe because he was four years old and the only things he had to worry about were story-time, naptime, snack time, learning about colors, shapes, counting to ten, learning his ABCs, and recess where he got to run around on the playground. Ted knew as his boy got older, school would be far less enjoyable. The only "homework" Teddy had to worry about was coloring in shapes from a coloring page and drawing his numbers on a blank piece of paper, which was hardly what anyone would consider "homework."

"Teddy, do you wanna tell your daddy what you decided on for show-and-tell?" Bella asked.

"I thought he was gonna show off his new pet hamster that Russ and Dwayne got him for his birthday," Ted said, confused.

"Apparently, Buttercup is old news," Bella said. "He went through your closet upstairs and found your old North Stars jersey as well as your old stick. And guess what? He wants you to be there for his presentation. And he also indicated he wants the Ducks, too."

"My daddy's . . . My daddy's famous," Teddy explained, his hands going into Ted's hair and stroking his face, something that he, for some reason, loved to do. He loved any kind of skin-to-skin contact that he initiated.

Ted looked at his son and sighed. "Buddy, you know the Ducks have school in the morning," he said, hating the thought of disappointing his boy, knowing that when Teddy got disappointed, he tended to throw his temper tantrums when he didn't get what he wanted. He knew he couldn't give in to Teddy when he had those tantrums because part of his recovery was understanding when to accept the word "No" to something. And that was the worst part because if it were up to Ted, he'd allow his son to have whatever he wanted.

"But Daddy, I want them there!" Teddy complained, smacking his hands on Ted's shoulders.

"I know you do, but they can't miss school to go to your show-and-tell," Ted explained. "School's important. You know that."

"Actually, Coach, we all have independent study first period," said Charlie, sensing that one of Teddy's temper tantrums was coming on.

Sucker, Ted thought, shaking his head. At least he was the disciplinarian. Charlie allowed Lucy and Teddy to get away with murder. If one thought Ted was bad when it came to spoiling his children, Charlie spoiled them more. He insisted that was his job as their favorite "uncle." Whenever he babysat, he allowed them to eat all the ice cream and stay up all night watching TV, even though he knew Ted didn't allow television on school nights.

"That doesn't mean you can just skip first period," Ted said sternly.

"And what do we do in first period anyway?" Averman asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and if you're so concerned about us not coming into school for the morning, how's about this? Teddy brings his class here to do his presentation?" suggested Guy, grinning.

"Yeah! Please, Daddy?" Teddy begged.

"Okay," Ted said, "who was the mastermind behind that suggestion? You, Conway?"

"No, actually, it was me." Dwayne raised his hand, grinning.

"It was actually the smartest thing he ever said," said Russ.

"Besides, it's only for a half-hour," reasoned Connie.

"Yeah, we let the kids see the rink, skate around with them for ten minutes, have Teddy do his presentation, and then we all make it back to the school in time for the rest of our morning classes," said Portman.

"And how the heck are we gonna transport a classful of special needs four-year-olds to Eden Hall?" Ted retorted, raising an eyebrow at them, and from the looks on their faces, the Ducks had not thought of that. "Oh. You should've thought of that."

Charlie's eyes then lit up with an idea. "Actually, we know a guy. He used to drive us around all the time when we were in Peewees."

"Yeah, besides, as someone who is two chapters ahead of everyone, missing one period of independent study won't hurt my chances of getting into Princeton," Julie said. Portman coughed out the word "nerd," to which she elbowed him hard in the stomach and sent him crashing down to the ice in a loud "oomph."

Ted considered it. He supposed that it could work. Plus, he knew the Ducks wouldn't ever want to let their "nephew" down. "Okay," he said. "So, that means I have until Friday morning to think of hockey stories that will be appropriate to tell preschoolers." He leaned in and kissed his son wetly on the cheek, to which Teddy giggled before extending his hands over to his mama, who lovingly took him into her arms and balanced him on her hip.

"And you, Ducks, you better keep that promise," he added to his team. "I don't wanna have to deal with the temper tantrum of an autistic four-year-old."

"You got it, Coach," Goldberg said, grinning proudly.

"Now get back to work!" Ted barked at them, watching as they scattered to continue scrimmaging.

Ted wasn't quite sure how they did it.

Was it because his four-year-old was just so irresistibly sweet that nobody could ever say no to him?

Was it because he was just a sucker when it came to his children?

Was it because the Ducks twisted his arm into making this happen this morning, even if it meant them missing their first-period independent study?

He didn't know.

But as he watched the Ducks lead a class full of preschoolers onto the ice, teaching them how to skate and shoot pucks into the goalpost, he decided it had been well worth it because it meant that little Teddy was officially the kid who presented the coolest thing in his class for show and tell.

The Ducks had contacted Lewis, their old driver from their Peewee days, who now worked as a public school bus driver. They explained to Lewis the predicament: Teddy insisted on the Ducks and Ted Orion being part of his presentation for show-and-tell and that the only way they could make it work so as to ensure the Ducks wouldn't get in trouble for ditching their morning classes was by bringing Teddy's pre-school class on a little "field trip" to Eden Hall's rink. Lewis graciously said yes, hence why Ted now stood on the ice, watching his son and all his little friends skate around with the Ducks.

Dean and Fulton held Teddy's hands, guiding him along on the ice while Connie and Guy showed a little girl with cerebral palsy how to hold a hockey stick. Julie and Goldberg were coaching another little girl with Rhett syndrome on how to play goalie. This went on for about ten minutes until Teddy's teacher, Miss Lizzy, said, "Okay, kids! Playtime is over. Teddy? Do you want to do your presentation now?"

Teddy, who still had trouble with responding verbally and acknowledging people, didn't answer right away. In fact, he kept skating with Fulton and Dean until Charlie went over to him.

"Hey, buddy, it's time for you to do show-and-tell now," Charlie whispered.

"Oh-Okay," Teddy nodded, taking Charlie's hand as his little friends gathered up to sit on the bench while the Ducks and Ted stood before them, with Teddy requesting that his daddy pick him up and hold him.

"Want . . . Daddy!" Teddy stuttered, and Ted grinned as he swooped down and picked him up, pecking him on the forehead.

"Okay, Teddy, what is it that you are showing us?" Lizzy asked, and Teddy reached his little hand out for Ted's hockey stick, the same one he'd used when he played in the pros with the North Stars. Charlie also held out Ted's North Stars jersey, which displayed his number 21.

"My . . . this is Daddy's stick," Teddy said. "And his jersey."

"Okay, why are you showing us this?"

"'Cause he played," Teddy said, smiling toothily.

"Yeah, he did," Charlie said, ruffling the boy's hair. "He played pro with the North Stars."

"He led us to the State Championships three years in a row," said Russ proudly.

"Okay, Teddy, why don't you tell us a little more?" Miss Lizzy asked.

"Um, Daddy played with . . . with the North Stars for . . . for . . ." Teddy stammered out.

"Six years," said Averman. "From fall of 1985 to winter of 1991."

"Yes," Teddy said, nodding. "He . . . He . . . This was the jersey he wore when he played hockey. And this was his stick. Daddy, tell them about . . . about . . . when you went to the playoffs."

"We got second to the St. Luis Blues," Ted said. "And the North Stars never won a Stanley Cup. Even the Dallas Stars have yet to win one. But none of that mattered. My life was here."

One of Teddy's classmates raised his hand. "Why did you stay with them if they kept losing?"

"There's more important things than hockey," said Ted. "I wanted my children to grow up here. That's why I quit hockey. I quit because I was in a car accident; it led to my daughter getting hurt when she was barely a year old. All of her doctors and friends and cousins were here; I couldn't just leave."

Another one of Teddy's little friends raised her hand. "Do you ever wish you kept playing?"

"Not for a second," Ted said. "I have everything that I need right here." He squeezed his son gently. "And if I had left to play for Anaheim or Dallas, I wouldn't have met this incredible group of kids here." He turned to the Ducks, who smiled at him blushingly. "These kids are some of the best friends I've ever gotten. And I don't know what I'd do without them. I don't know what my son would've done without them. They made it possible for you kids to come here for the morning. And I'm really happy you Ducks came to Eden Hall."

"We're glad we came too, Coach," said Kenny.

"Quack," Ted chuckled.

"Quack," Teddy said.

"Quack," the Ducks collectively said, and it led to everyone in Teddy's preschool class quacking as he wrapped his arms around his daddy's neck.

"Thank you, Daddy." He turned to the Ducks and grinned. "Thank you . . . Ducks."

Connie and Julie skated over before kissing the little boy on the cheek.

"You're welcome, bud," Charlie said. "It's our pleasure."

"Love you!" Teddy yelled. "Love . . . everybody here."

"Okay," Ted said, grinning, "how about a couple more minutes of play, and then you head on back to school? Okay?"

Teddy nodded eagerly, and Ted couldn't help grinning as he watched Portman scoop his son up and put him on his shoulders while the rest of Teddy's little friends returned to the ice to skate around one more time.

He was definitely going to be credited as the world's coolest dad.