Eric Coulter ⋆ One Shots

⋆ red ivy ⋆

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I love you all SO MUCH <3

+++

"Please come with us, you know she'll love it." His wife begs from the doorframe of his office.

He'd been swamped with work all week and between Max up his ass and the initiates failing at every possible task he was lucky to get an hour of sleep.

"Layla, I-" Eric begins. He wants to spend time with them, it's something that he's come to accept after all these years. Damn him if it makes him weak but he'd love nothing more. But this work...

"Yeah, I get it." Her shoulders hunched and the strand of dirty blonde hair that always seems to get in her eyes falls down and in that moment she nearly resembles their daughter when she is about to cry.

"Listen, you just do your work and I'll take her by myself. Maybe I'll get her two scoops of ice cream to cheer her up."

She sulks to the doorway and a part of Eric's heart can't help but crack a bit at the sight. Before she shuts the door fully he speaks.

"Wait." He rises from his desk reluctantly, already feeling the stress of losing time weigh on him. 

"I'll come. Just give me a minute to clean up."

A smile that's been well known to melt him in the past shines on her face.

+++

"What's that?"

Eric sighs a bit at the question, it's one that he had been answering for the past 20 minutes. 20 minutes that he should have spent working.

"That's pistachio."

So far they'd gone through this enough times to name all the ice cream flavors thrice and the little girl had yet to make a decision on which one she wants.

Normally this would be Layla's thing, watch their kid while he went and payed or bought some random trinket from the gift store to surprise them with later. Instead she'd walked away, claiming something about "father daughter bonding" and hadn't been seen since.

"Ivy, can you please choose?"

"I don't want that one, it's green." She says with a crinkle of her nose that if he'd been any less annoyed he might find adorable.

About ten minutes ago his phone had taken to buzzing in his pocket, most likely Max wanting to assign him another task.

"Please, Ivy." He sighs again, a small headache blooming in the back of his skull. "What about this one? It's red, just like your favorite color."

She contemplates it for a moment before finally nodding her head.

Thank the lord.

"One scoop of the strawberry." He says to the worker who, unlike his daughter, makes quick work of the process and has him out the door in seconds.

Ivy, who recently decided that she absolutely will not be held anymore, even when crossing the riskier parts of the pit, grabs onto the calloused hand he extends to her.

It's a sight to see. A small girl, barely five, clothed in black overalls and a bright red shirt they had specially shipped from Amity, holding hands with the most feared Dauntless leader.

His phone buzzes again in his pocket. He grits his teeth.

"Let's go find Mommy, okay?"

Ivy nods and licks her ice cream contently.

They take a lap of the pit. Then a second. And a third. Layla seemingly had disappeared and with each step his anger rose. Take Ivy out for ice cream, sure, he could do that. But his work was waiting for him and if his phone buzzed one more time he's liable to break it against the rock wall next to him.

At this point Ivy had finished her ice cream and was on to complaining about having a sticky hand.

"Well if you would have eaten it quicker that wouldn't have happened." He grits out, looking around like a mad man for his seemingly invisible wife.

"Mommy cleans it off." She moans, waving her sticky, ice cream covered hand in the air frantically, splattering some into Eric's pants.

He grips her hand quickly but gently and with deft hands wipes all the mess onto her shirt.

She pauses for a moment before her eyes become wet and her lip starts to wobble.

Still down at her level, another phone call coming in, it takes all his strength to not glare.

"What's wrong now?"

"M-m-my shirt," she stutters, the waterworks finally starting, along with soft whimpers every few breaths.

"You're fine." He snaps, still looking around for his wife.

"You ruined it." She says fully crying now, sobs racking her tiny body.

"It wasn't very dauntless anyways." He mutters more to himself than her. It had been part of an old argument him and Layla had dealt with more than once, the fact that the leader of the Dauntless faction had a child who took a liking to the very Amity color.

By his side Ivy's crying paused. She glared at him, the angriest face a five year old could make.

"I am Dauntless." She stomps her foot with the words. Just then, be it miracle or maybe poorly timed fate, Layla emerged from a nearby store and began walking towards them.

Clearly done with her father, Ivy took off towards her mother, throwing her tear and ice cream stained self at the woman.

Eric, his phone buzzing in his pocket yet again, headache going strong, merely walked back to his office.

+++

It had been three days since the incident with Ivy. Three days of regretting what he had said. Three days of not being spoken to by his daughter.

He had to fix this, it was something he realized mere hours after it had happened. His actions had been uncalled for, no matter how stressed he was.

The truth of the matter was that Ivy, despite being so young, displayed more Dauntless courage than some of the initiates he gets each year. He should have realized that. It wasn't important what color she liked to wear, she was Dauntless through and through.

So, Eric stood knocking at his daughter's bedroom door, bag in hand.

Layla was the one who opened it, gave him one look of understanding, and made herself scarce.

"What?" Ivy said, arms crossed. It was the first word she had spoken to him in days.

"Ivy, I'm sorry." He began, getting down on his knees to be at her height. "What I said was wrong, you are the most Dauntless person I have ever met. You are brave and you are strong. I had no reason to say what I did."

She sat still for a moment, taking in what he said. It was times like this that it felt like she was 15 and not 5.

"What's that?" She asks, pointing at it the bag he held with her small finger.

"It's a gift to say sorry." Eric said, placing the present before her. "Open it."

She did as he said, reaching in with excitement. What she pulled out made her squeal.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy!"

In one hand she held a new red shirt, the exact same as the one that was "ruined" before. In the torn open bag was a pair of red combat boots, a mirror of his in every way except the color.

"It's not important what color you wear, it's what's in your heart, okay?" He said, tapping her chest lightly. 

She nods, and giving him one last look, embraces him in a hug.