good dad bad dad

When someone finds out you love one direction then asks how you’re dealing with “the break up” and you know they aren’t worth the whole tortured explanation and your belief system re: The Hiatus™ but you can’t figure out what to say other than “fuck off, becky”:

Someone

Inspired by this post, a small fic on Bad Bob just trying to be the best dad he can be. Could also be seen as a companion to Coach. Also on AO3…  

Bob had grown up in locker rooms. The majority of his life was spent surrounded by the sweaty stink of post-game adrenaline, the raucous laughter, the camaraderie. And he loved it… for the most part.

There was the part of it, however, he didn’t like, didn’t particularly care to join in on. Prejudice of any kind had no place in Bob Zimmermann’s heart. When a distasteful joke was made, he retreated into himself. Excused himself to go shower or meet his parents – and later, Alicia.

Alicia was quite vocal many times saying, “If you had been a stereotypical jock I would never have given you the time of day.”

Bob nodded, and didn’t think he was being or not being anything in particular. He just preferred to judge people by their actions and their heart – and nothing else.

Alicia loved his gentle nature, which was a stark contrast to the person he was on the ice. While he was Bad Bob Zimmermann on the ice, off the ice Bob opened doors for little old ladies, he stopped to pet random dogs on the street, he called his parents every Sunday, made corny jokes, and enjoyed cooking for the people he loved.

When Jack came along one hot August morning, Bob held his newborn son as tears flowed freely down his face.

“He’s perfect, Alicia,” Bob murmured as he pressed a kiss onto the baby’s head.

Alicia hummed and closed her eyes, full of exhaustion and bliss.

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