Take Note

"There was never any point in waiting, Soos," is the whisper that comes from above the blanket. "You had to get it yourself."

What cradles him to sleep is the voice of a grandma, the one loving voice he knows, and he cares about little else right now. The old sofa is tattered and worn, the blankets has holes in it – but there is an embrace and hot chocolate, and that counts for it all.

"Yes, he is not the dad you wished for," she leads on, the smell of biscuits still hanging from her fingers. "But he… it's like he isn't your dad at all. That is not what a good dad does, you know?"

Soos barely fidgets in her arms. All she sees after that are a pair of wet, devastated brown eyes.

"I don't know," his tiny voice says. "I don't know, grandma. What does a good dad do, grandma?"

"Well…"

In the warmth, he is already dozing off. By the time she speaks again, he doesn't hear her.

"Let me think about that."

"That wasn't kind of you, Soos!"

He grows smaller under her furious eyes. It always happens. Yes, shoving Martha in the mud for calling him fat may have been a little too much, but –

"But you know what?" she growls. "That wasn't kind of her, either. What you did is bad, and what she said is bad, too. For the future, you need new ways to defend yourself. Nobody must feel bad about who they are."

"What do you mean, grandma?"

A pensive pause, and the severe face melts into a sweet smile.

"I'll teach you," she says. "That is something a good father would do, you see."

"I told you to be careful around those tools."

She holds him a little more, with a patient sigh. It doesn't take him long to feel better.

"See, sweetie?" she laughs. "Nothing a little love and a band-aid cannot fix. Don't fix too many things by yourself, you little workaholic."

A flurry of high-pitched excuses talks back. Because Stan is teaching him, and Stan is so good at things, and Stan told him to-

"I don't care what he says, as long as he doesn't pay attention to you!" she barks, angrily. "You need attention. A good father would never leave you alone. That's something else for our little list."

She winks.

Soos comes back from the Grand Third Re-Again-Opening with starry eyes she has rarely seen on him before. He has so much to tell about the new Mystery Tour and the attraction he helped build himself.

He is a little kid with dreams again. It's been a while. She does worry about this shady job, from time to time – but he never returns home sad, and that's more than can she say about everything else he has done in life.

"Mister Pines invited you to come, granny!" he howls. "Almost totally for free! He wants you to be happy! He wants everyone to be happy!"

For the first time in a while, she feels nothing relief.

"That sounds like something who loves you would want," she says sweetly. "Don't forget to write it down. Good Father Notebook?"

It is his turn to wink this time.

"Good Father Notebook, one more."

At the moment, two facts are clear as day. He is on the verge of sobbing, and Stan is about to fire him.

He dries his tears on his wrist, sloppily. He cannot believe it. And he had just begun learning what being hired and being fired meant!

While Stan rants in his usual way, but worse, pages and pages full of his own handwriting flow throughout his memory. He has an endless list, compiled by a grandmother's love in hundreds of small daily moments. A father never leaves you alone. A father never makes you sad. A father knows when to teach you a lesson and when to turn your life into a rush of fun. A father…

A father… wait. When did he start thinking this way?

In his mind, all those pages tear, broken by the wind. It all seems so pointless now. Why does it?

In his reverie, he misses it all – he misses the way Stan stops talking by the second, and loses all his arguments in front of his big, lowered eyes. When Soos happens to look at his face again, Stan's mouth is hanging so low he thinks it might break in sadness.

"Aw… c'mon, kid," he says, his voice trembling. "Don't give me that look. I'm, uhm, actually trying to be a good boss who runs things well. But you – you know I… erm, I like you the way you are. But don't tell anyone."

Too bad Stan rushes to hide behind the nearest door, utterly confused by himself. He misses one of the fastest changes of heart in the world, and the happiest kid in the universe.

Several years later, a young man rushes home to his grandmother, holding a sloppy paper wrapping like the greatest treasure he owns.

He wears one of his happiest looks, just for the occasion. He hands the contents of the wrapping for his grandma to see, half pride, half disbelief.

Her hands, her good, productive hands, are aging. Her skin is withered, but strong as ever, as they clutch the wooden frame.

"Employee of the Year," she reads, each letter filled of surprise. And it is such a small wooden frame, and maybe meaningless to anyone else – still, when she raises her head, she is the picture of pride.

Soos pictures the man who gave him the frame, just a few hours before. Most of all, he can picture his smile, and how bright it was. He thought he'd go blind just by looking at it.

He looks at the one woman who never left him behind, and crushes her in a hug.

Both bring back one image, for some reason. The notebook has been by his bedside for years, and untouched for a while. He never even dreamt of getting rid of it.

He thinks of its contents, of the two most important people in his life, and smiles.

Close enough. He couldn't hope for anything better.

Small prompt fill for Tumblr user pengychan. I requested the prompt as a 20-minute challenge, and although it took me forty minutes to write this, it's okay. She asked for anything with Soos. I complied.