#leon lapointe

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTW: Riley Lapointes; excavation

For the prompt: Dan and Leon doing son/dad things

Charlie’s easy. Well, that’s not true. Easy is not the first word that would come to mind to describe her, or the tenth, or honestly, one that would ever come up. Charlie relishes being difficult: one guess where she got that from. 

But her interests match what Dan’s were when he was her age. They have the same taste in movies, in books — ‘can you branch out from sports just once?’ Marc asks in despair, but obviously not — and Dan learns the rules of lacrosse, curling, dusts off his baseball mitt in the summers, plays goalie for her in the driveway. That part is easy.

Leon’s not interested in sports, which is fine, but it feels like everything he likes is something that Dan hated when he was a kid. He does his best to encourage it, even though he feels a little out of his depth. Marc is objectively better at anything, well — smart, Dan guesses. He’s not particularly interested in science, but he has a head for it that Dan doesn’t. Hell, Leon has a head for it that Dan doesn’t, which, obviously, but by that Dan means his eight year old is already smarter than him. It’d hurt his ego if he wasn’t so proud.

Leon has collections. Dan had collections too as a kid, but his were hockey cards, hockey figurines. Pucks from every arena he went to. Leon’s collections are a little different. Shells Marc’s parents bring back for him every time they go to Florida. Leaves he carefully presses. Different types of rocks, some he’s ordered, some he’s picked up. Not so much stuff you buy as that you find. 

Living in Montreal makes that a little difficult, so some weekends Dan leaves Marc to shuttle Charlie to whatever sport she’s doing at the moment, takes Leon on day trips, the two of them trailing along the St. Lawrence, do a field trip to an old nickel mine near Sherbrooke that has Leon as excited as Dan’s seen him, filling his arms, sorting through the cache before they leave so they make sure they’re bringing home the best ones. The best ones ends up being basically all of them, and Marc’s visibly amused when Dan comes in the door lugging what feels like ten pounds of rocks that all look the same to him.

When they feel like staying in town, they wander through various parks and keep an eye out for anything that looks different than what Leon already has, though by now it feels like he’s got just about everything.

Eventually Dan starts to pick things up, know how to differentiate by more than colour, quits describing things as, say, ‘that tan scratchy one’ and actually identifying it as sandstone (or, grès) after he consults one of Leon’s million books, knows the main types, some of the subtypes. Dan’s pretty sure proudly telling someone he can tell the difference between igneous and sedimentary rocks at the age of forty-five would get him laughed at, but he is proud. Leon seems proud of him too. He’s a good teacher.

“Nerds,” Marc says with a grin after Dan finishes helping Leon on his geology project — and by help, he means he just helps make the poster look nice, Leon is pretty capable of everything else — and they’ve practiced Leon’s presentation in front of Marc, because obviously he’s the one to go to to double check it sounds right. Dan’s French isn’t there, probably never will be. Leon loudly protests, but Dan takes it as the compliment he knows it is.

[youcouldmakealife]

that ask about veronique and charlie/jaya made me think of something i’ve been wondering for a while: how old are the baby dineens compared to charlie and leon?

That is a good question! Tessa’s two and a half years older than Charlie, Tory’s Charlie’s age. (so three years older than Leon)

[youcouldmakealife]

Dan, Charlie, Riley Lapointes; the best

For the prompt:  Dan Riley. Charlie Riley Lapointe. A+ parenting

I got something in my eye writing this. Fuck, I miss the Riley Lapointes.

Dan did his best.

“It is your motto,” Marc says dryly, when Dan says as much, which is probably fair. That’s what he was always told growing up: do whatever you want to do, Dan, just do your best at it. Sometimes his best has been good, sometimes it hasn’t. Sometimes it’s been amazing. He knows he’s reused that bit of advice more than once or twice with Charlie and Leon, and both of them have been amazing at it every time, knocked it right out of the park. Their best is breathtaking.

“You can’t cry before the Olympics even start,” Marc chides, while Leon pats his shoulder. “What if they do terribly?”

“They won’t,” Leon says in French, softer than Dan’s, “Then I’ll be proud my daughter made the Olympics, Marc.”

“I am too,” Marc says quietly.

“They won’t, papa,” Leon says again.

“I know, Lion,” Marc murmurs in French, something Dan wouldn’t have been able to pick up even a decade ago. He does his best.

*

“Put it on,” Charlie says, after. She’s got tears on her cheeks, and for the first time, it doesn’t hurt Dan to see them. He’s got tears of his own. They don’t hurt. They’re the furthest thing from pain. “You never got one, it’s not fair.”

Dan did his best, but his best was never quite the same as Marc’s, as Char’s. He doesn’t resent that. He’s proud of that.

“It’s yours, sweetheart,” Dan says.

“It’s yours too,” Charlie says, and when she puts it around his neck, it’s heavy, but it feels right.

[youcouldmakealife]

Riley Lapointes, Singhs; audience participation

For the prompt: Dan and Leon showing up at Charlie and Jaya's games with fun signs

Dan’s never been the most artistic guy or handy guy. He always preferred literally any sport to quiet time colouring or building or crafts, and Charlie was the same. The most interested in any kind of toys she got was a Playmobil hockey rink Dan put the stickers on ‘wrong’ and had to let Marc take over, relentlessly mocking his lack of skills until Dan threw a tiny Hab at his head when Charlie left the room.

Dan’s point is that it’s kind of pathetic, but his nine year old is way better at making signs than he is. He’s nice about it, because he’s nice about everything, but he’s put his little foot down and made sure that Dan’s duties are limited to colouring in letters. It’s kind of embarrassing.

Dan’s dutifully colouring in the W in Warriors while Leon carefully draws a little hockey player, looking back and forth from the poster to a reference picture. Dan pauses to watch Leon add a bright yellow ponytail and a kind of terrifying grin to the face of the hockey player. The resemblance is uncanny. Dan’s seen that expression many, many times, from the stands most recently, but also across from the bench when the Sens played the Habs.

Dan’s red marker is dead and so is his wrist by the time they finish the sign. “Looks great, Leon,” Dan says, and it does, mostly because Leon only let Dan do things he couldn’t screw up.

“Thank you,” Leon says. “Now we do Jaya’s sign.”

Dan holds back a whimper. “The red marker’s dead,” he says, without much hope.

“I have another,” Leon says, and Dan does wrist exercises while he goes to get it.

Dan’s not saying that Leon has a favourite or anything, but Jaya’s sign has a lot more glitter than Charlie’s does, though most of it seems to have ended up on Dan and Leon. Rahul grins a little when he sees them, which makes Dan think the glitter’s migrated to their faces.

“For you,” Leon says to Rahul seriously, handing him the poster he made for Jaya.

“Thank you,” Rahul says very seriously in return. “Can you help me hold it up?”

“Yes,” Leon says, and scrambles up onto the riser so he can hold it as high as possible, getting on his tiptoes when Dan holds the Charlie sign up so the Jaya one’s higher.

“Careful,” Dan says, but nothing else, and tries not to laugh when Leon, waving the sign, gets covered in a fresh coat of glitter.

[youcouldmakealife]

Jaya, Riley Lapointes; deceit

For the prompt: Charlie & Jaya try to make cookies for Leon's birthday

Jaya stares down at the tray.

“Baking is supposed to be science,” she says. “I’m good at science.”

“You burned science,” Charlie says, then gingerly reaches for one of the cookies. When she bites into it there’s an audible cracking noise. Jaya doesn’t think that’s a good sign.

Charlie walking over to the garbage and spitting the cookie out is definitely not a good sign, especially because Jaya can count on one hand times she’s seen Charlie refuse to eat something. She’s got an iron stomach. She drank a glass of hot sauce once, just to prove she could, then decided she was hungry and ate a bunch of wings with more hot sauce. Jaya isn’t touching those cookies.

“This was a stupid idea anyway,” Charlie says. “Like, can’t we just buy him cookies?”

“No,” Jaya says. “Happy birthday, have some random cookies? Come on, Charlotte.”

Charlie makes a face at her. “You didn’t make me cookies for my birthday,” she complains.

“Do you want these?” Jaya asks. “Late birthday present.”

“Pass,” Charlie says. “Definite pass.”

“I thought so,” Jaya says, then looks back at the tray with dismay.

“On the other hand, you made some damn good homemade pucks,” Charlie says, and laughs when Jaya chucks one at her. “Look,” she says. “We go buy some cookies from a bakery, none of the fancy ones or anything, just the normal ones, we’re not trying to get caught, and you make him a nice card, and we call it a day.

“That’s deceitful,” Jaya says. “No way.”

*

“You made these?” Leon asks. “They’re really good, thank you.”

Jaya smiles guiltily, and frowns at Charlie when she just looks smug.

"I didn't make the cookies," Jaya tells him when Charlie's gone off to grab her present for him. "I tried to make you cookies, but I totally--"

"I know," Leon says. "These are from D Liche."

Jaya grimaces.

"Thank you for trying though," Leon says. "That's the most important thing."

"How are you Charlie's brother?" Jaya says, and gives him a hug. "Happy birthday, buddy."

"I was adopted," Leon helpfully reminds her, hugging her back. "And thank you."

[youcouldmakealife]

PSOTW: Marc/Dan; inexhaustible

I was asked for an excerpt from Marc’s autobiography and damnit, now I want to write ALL of Marc’s autobiography. It’s hilarious that for years I thought I was incapable of writing Marc, but it turns out I just needed to change the perspective.

So: Dan Riley, everyone.

Marc you are a goddamn sap.

I was always a little sceptical about children. Children as something for me, but also children in general. Handed many children in the course of my duties — those duties generally being signing my name somewhere upon their person — I cannot say I experienced the soft-eyed awe that many of my teammates felt when handed a child, that reverential care. It became evident early that Dan and I differed on this point, which did not particularly surprise me. Dan is a born caretaker; of me, but also in general. Dan is at his best when he is caring for someone else, and the best thing about Dan is that he always is.

Children were important to Dan, and he was important to me, so while I’d never seriously given them much thought, at least in the context of parenthood, I was amenable to the idea.

Amenable. As if it was choosing a sofa or an apartment. I was a fool. Had I known the responsibility I likely would have balked.

It would have been the worst mistake of my life.

We tried adoption first. Through the Quebec system, as I was basically guaranteed a place with the Canadiens through retirement, if not in written contract, in handshakes and fan sentiment, and Dan was facing the option of retirement or short contracts in places he wasn’t particularly eager to go. 

Four to eight years was the waiting list, because I was insistent upon a newborn, uncomfortable even then, unsure I was capable of loving a child that wasn’t mine (I’m getting ahead of myself, but Leon promptly dispelled any notions I had about this. If you read this, my Lion, know that there is no one in the world I love more than you). Dan was devastated. I was quietly, guiltily relieved.

Surrogacy was the second route, and Dan insisted that the child carry my DNA. He never said as much, but I’m sure he was aware of that fear I held, that if the child wasn’t mine it would not be, well. Mine. Dan had no similar qualms, I knew that also without asking.

I don’t mean to, but I think I hoard my love jealously, afraid I’ll run out, afraid that I’ll spread it too thin, that I will not be able to love those who deserve it most as much as they do deserve. 

Dan’s love is inexhaustible.

~~~~

Dan was, of course, eager to hold our child. I was a little more hesitant — this is perhaps an understatement — and excused myself from the room, ostensibly to find my parents, who were in the waiting room, and inform them of the successful birth. I called Ulf. It was the middle of the night in Stockholm, where he spent his offseasons, and rather than answer with a hello, he made an angry noise into the phone.

I perhaps deserved that.

Ulf listened to me try unsuccessfully hide my panic for a few minutes before he informed me he’d rather sleep than enable me, and seemed to care little when I threatened to rescind the title of godfather (it was in fact an empty threat, and Charlie’s godfather he remains, a title I think matters far less to either of them than the ‘Uncle Ulf’ bestowed by her). I delayed further by finding my parents and relaying the news, but eventually I had no remaining gambits.

Dan gave me a look when I returned, a look that told me he was entirely aware of what I had been doing, and he was unimpressed but too incandescently happy to dwell upon it. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen that look on his face — the joy, not being unimpressed with me, which I see as often as I deserve it, which I think we’d both agree is not infrequently — our wedding, Charlotte’s birth, cut with the utter hysteria we shared when Leon was dropped upon us by the proverbial stork. It’s contagious, and every time I see it I’m reminded of the moment we met, because in a Leafs jersey so new it creaked, he’d had that look on his face when he took my hand and promised me we’d be the best of friends.

Dan’s always been the smarter of the two of us. I’m sure he’s laughing, reading this, but it’s true.

And here was a prime example: preemptively brushing away all the protests I was considering as he approached with the tiny, alien bundle, he carefully placed her in my arms, stepped back. I did not trust myself with her, but he did.

“Our daughter,” he said.

And she was.

And she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

And when I looked up at him, I knew without looking that my expression must have mirrored his completely.

[youcouldmakealife]

Hi Taylor! Can you tell us how Jaya and Charlie look? Like, how tall are they? Do they keep their hair long, short, do they dye it? That kind of stuff? Thank you! (I love them both so much. My favorite bromance)

Hi!

Charlie inherited Marc’s eyes, but she, like her birth mother, is a brunette. She has, however, experimented with colours both natural and unnatural (Marc of course sincerely compliments it every time, the asshole). Don’t ask Jaya about The Bleach Incident. At the time of the Olympics ficlet upcoming, she’s back to the natural brown and it’s cut very short. Partly for ease, partly because chopping it short was the fastest way to get it back to the natural brown. She’s 5′7″, so running right around average on the team. 

Jaya’s brown eyed, black hair that she keeps a little past her shoulders and has since she was a kid. Wears it in a ponytail or braid for hockey, but down the rest of the time, usually clipped back (since Jaya was like fourteen, Leon has been buying her sparkly hair clips for her birthday. With his allowance when he was eleven. Very earnestly putting it in the basket at the drugstore and handing Dan the amount plus tax and refusing to let Dan pay for it because it is a gift, he will buy it. ANYWAY SORRY I LOVE LEON I GET DISTRACTED SOMETIMES YOU ARE ALL PROBABLY USED TO IT.) Jaya’s 5′9″ and on the taller side of the team. (she’s also taller than Leon. Dan can’t call Marc short any more because his children get insulted as they are minimum three inches shorter than papa. Dan’s life is hard. SORRY I DID IT AGAIN.)

[youcouldmakealife]

What is Sarah like as an aunt? Is she very involved?

She is very intent on being ‘cool aunt’, and is generally pretty successful at it. She’s much more comfortable with the kids once they’re like…people, to her (Sarah and Ulf shared a couple alarmed looks over tiny bbs). Not to say she had no interest in Charlie and Leon when they were wee, but she wasn’t at all comfortable with them until they really started to develop their own personalities, and she doted on them hard after that (’spoiled’ Dan would use, but Dan would be wrong.) 

Could talk hockey with Charlie and also handle ‘lady things’ (Marc and Charlie and Sarah all look disgustedly at Dan), was over the moon with Leon’s soft spoken thoughtfulness, even though it wasn’t in her field at all, so there was going to be a lot of learning about dinosaurs in her future, and maybe two ROM passes so she could take him to see the dinosaurs in the summer. 

Because the Riley Lapointes spent their summers in Toronto, she would generally make a point of taking a week off when the kids were in town and having at least a day or two aunt and niece (Hockey Hall of Fame!), aunt and nephew (Zoo! Science Centre!), and both kids adore their Aunt Sarah.