Confessions of a First Timer by glovegrrl
Summary: First times can be painful. They often hurt more than we think they will.
Categories: AU Characters: None
Genres: Drama, Shipper, Vignette
Tags: None
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 1470 Read: 2232 Published: 12/28/2010 Updated: 12/28/2010

1. Chapter 1 by glovegrrl

Chapter 1 by glovegrrl
First times can be painful.

They often hurt more than we think they will.

For example, when I first held my first little girl in my arms, when she was all squashed up and goopy and screaming her lungs out at the whole world, I didn’t think she could ever do anything to hurt me.

I was wrong.

Because my beautiful little angel went and fell in love, and as I walk her down the aisle to the man, who, had he not been marrying my little girl I probably would have liked, I feel like a little piece of me is being torn out as she walks further and further, away from me, even though we are walking side by side.

There was a time when she looked at me and I was her world, I was her hero... but she doesn’t need me anymore, at least that’s how I feel.

Marie keeps telling me that it’s not about me, it’s about our daughter. As if I didn’t know that, that’s why I didn’t rip a hole in the kid when he came to ask me for her hand, because that wouldn’t have made her happy.

That’s why I’m here, because she wanted me to be here, to ‘give her away’. What if I don’t want to, what if I’m not ready to let go of her yet?

It’s too late for these thoughts now, we’ve reached the top of the aisle and here comes the part where I have to let someone else take her, to care for, for the rest of her life. I can feel tears pricking at the backs of my eyes, the weirdest sensation that, but I don’t cry, I never have and I never will, especially not now, I have to stay strong because it looks like my little angel is about to crack too.

I have never understood that about women, how they can say they are so happy, yet they’re crying or about to start. I can see in her eyes how happy she is but there is a sadness buried deep in the background and I think that’s what’s making her cry.

I hold out her hand, and as my soon-to-be son-in-law takes her hand in his I can’t help but let slip a few threats of bodily harm should he ever break my little girl’s heart.

When I look back at her, a single tear slips down her cheek and for a moment I worry I said the wrong thing before I catch the amusement in her eyes and smile.

I touch her cheek, through the thin veil and place a quick kiss on her forehead, “You’ll always be my baby, don’t you ever forget that.”

She lets slip a few more tears, and though she can’t speak through the emotion right now she gives me the look I have always loved to see on her face, the look of complete adoration. Then she turns to her soon-to-be husband.

I take my seat next to my own bride and remember the day we stood under this very same tree as we exchanged our vows, this tree has had a good work out as the venue for many weddings over the last few decades, and it seems to be holding up well under the weight of all the ribbons and flowers currently suspended from its boughs.

As the ceremony continues I let loose a low growl when the preacher gets to the part about speaking now or forever holding your piece, I want to say something, I want my baby girl back, I want... But I say nothing, Marie’s hand on my arm sees to that.

I know my little girl heard the growl, she got her sense of hearing from me, and she tenses almost as if she expects me to speak, before relaxing again as the preacher continues.

When they kiss it almost rivals my own and Marie’s wedding kiss, we lasted longer though, before breaking apart under a shower of rice and confetti.

Before I know it we are all inside eating and drinking and laughing at embarrassing stories and bad jokes, I should give a toast to the new couple but I’m no good with talking, especially in crowds, so instead her brother makes a speech, until he gets to a part about being glad she’s moving out, he can have his own room now, and I smack him upside of the head and put him back in his seat.

A sad smile passed over my little girls face then but she brightened again as they cut cake and fed it to each other, I always thought that tradition was pathetic, I still do.

Then came time for the first dance, I watched as my daughter slow danced with her husband, my son-in-law, and it finally settled that she wasn’t only mine anymore, watching the way he held he though, I can’t say I had too much of a problem with it.

As the next song began to play Marie and I joined them on the dance floor and I recalled our first dance, it had been to this same song. As the dance floor filled more I suggested we slip away as we had at our own wedding but she scowled at me good naturedly and told me to stop thinking with my little brain for once, I was here for my baby. And I was.

When that song finished I interrupted the happy couple for the Bride’s customary dance with her father, which my little girl accepted but hurried away as soon as she had. I stood uncertainly next my new son as we both gazed confusedly at each other.
She was back quickly and as soon as she stepped up to me I knew what she had been doing, she had requested a song, this song I recognised too, it was the song that I first danced with my daughter to, at a party Xavier threw, a long time ago now.

She remembered, even though she had only been about seven at the time, she had watched me dance with Marie, and had asked if she could dance, I teasingly asked her if she could before she, scowling just like her mother did when I teased, grabbed my hand and requested, no no, demanded, I dance with her.

I had had to pick her up off the floor she was so short then and we had danced to one song with her giggling and smiling while she held my hand and rested her head against my chest as Marie had. Then Marie had returned to the dance floor, despite being six months pregnant at the time and on prescribed bed rest by her doctor, and the three of us had danced together to the next several songs.

This time, she was again holding my hand, her head resting against my chest but her feet were on the floor as we danced to the soft beat and for a moment I wished I was back all those years ago, when she was all mine. She snapped me out of that thought quick enough.

“Thank you Daddy,” she whispered against my chest.

“So long as you’re happy baby, that’s all I care about,” I told her truthfully, hugging her closer to me.

“I’ll always be your little girl Daddy, don’t ever forget that, I love you so much, and it’s not going to change, I just have someone else to love too... I so do you.”

She was right, the thought suddenly slammed through me with all the subtlety of a baseball bat to the head, I hadn’t lost anything, I had gained another child.

“I know,” I said, even though I’d only just figured it out, “I’m just gonna miss having you around so much.”

She smiled and we continued dancing until the song finished.

First times can be painful but they can also wonderful as I found out almost a year later.

I had just returned from a long mission, and, as I stepped off the gang plank of the jet a squirming blue bundle was thrust into my arms by an ecstatic Marie who introduced me to my first grandchild.

First times can be painful but in the long run, they are worth it.

They also make it easier the second time round, I thought to myself as another young man stood before me, nervous as anything, palms sweaty, and struggling to stand still, as he asked for my second daughters hand.
This story archived at http://wolverineandrogue.com/wrfa/viewstory.php?sid=3827