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Yknow, Harry always thought that if the word 'dads' would be applied to him, it would be in reference to him and Nigel , not him and two other random guys he kinda-sorta-maybe sired a daughter with when they all slept with the same woman. Separately, to be clear. Which was just a bizarre sentiment in the first place, he supposed, but it was getting less and less strange with every passing second at the Taverna.
And she was a damn bright kid, pun of his last name not intended but fully appreciated. This little plot of hers may not have gotten very far, but it did what it intended in the end. She had so much of Donna in her, filled to the brim with bullheadedness and beauty, but there was a curious optimism to her that, for all her virtues, Donna never quite mastered. He couldn't help but feel a little greedy when it came to her, a selfish part of his heart wanting above all else to be the real father.
'Real father.' She made it quite clear how she feels about that kind of talk, Harry thought. I'm just as much her dad as Bill and Sam to her, no matter what the genetics have to say. With a light sigh, he glanced back at the young woman sitting on the dock with Sky. He supposed the whole not-getting-married-yet bit made sense, but he wouldn't have been a damn bit surprised if they'd gone through with the thing as planned. Every expression aimed at her fiancè was soft, full of wonder. The boy wasn't much better off with that dumb, lovestruck look he gave her, hanging onto every word she said. It reminded him of… well, at risk of being cheesy, him and Nigel when they first met. Ten years back, the banker's boyfriend was an 80s rocker with the long hair all the teenage girls fawned over, dark makeup bringing out those piercing green eyes of his, and Harry was doing some of the last gigs of his music career, ready for a little stability whenever it came knocking. They played the same bar one night somewhere up in Scotland and a few drinks later… well, something must have happened to leave them waking up in the same hotel room the next morning. Maybe Harry had a thing for fellow guitar players, so sue him. A one-night stand turned into a date turned into two, three, ten, turned into a comfortable place all to themselves and the cats (Larry and Byron, if anyone was curious).
"Y'know, Sophie," he found himself saying one night, just the two of them sitting in the yellow beach chairs outside the Taverna, "I really can't wait for you to meet him." Her eyes sparkled with interest. He would normally be a bit more hesitant telling someone he just met about his other half, but if he knew Donna Sheridan like he thought he did, he knew she didn't have it in her to raise a homophobe. "And I really mean that. He's… well, he's a bit of a pill, to be sure, and he's never been much of a people person when it comes down to it, but I think the two of you would get on. You're similar in a lot of ways," he said fondly. Sophie grinned.
"I'd love to meet Nigel," she said.
"Well, that is, after I tell him what's going on," he added, a bit sheepish. Sophie frowned, leaning forward in her seat and putting her beer on the table next to her.
"You haven't yet? You know there's a phone on the island, right?"
"I know, I know," he nodded, putting his hands up placatingly. "I just… well, it's not really a conversation you have with your partner over the phone, now is it?" Sophie shrugged.
"That's fair." When she didn't speak for a few seconds, Harry leaned his head back and looked up, quietly stargazing as best he could with light pollution from the Taverna. It was still worlds better than London ever was so he was more than content with the view he had.
"How do you think he’ll feel about me?" Sophie asked quietly a few minutes later, so soft he might have imagined it. Harry cast her a sideways glance.
"I… well, I don't honestly know." He looked back up at the stars. "I've never really thought about how my boyfriend would feel about a daughter I may have conceived the one time I slept with a woman." Sophie exhaled a small laugh.
He thought about it for a second, eyes still trained on the heavens to avoid his daughter's curious-but-trying-not-to-look-curious eyes. Harry finally smiled.
"He’ll be surprised at first, of course. Hesitant. He'll panic, won't want anything to do with you if either of us can help it, which obviously isn't in the cards anymore," he said, patting her arm at the sight of the increasingly worried face she bore. "He'll want to know the timeline, y'know. Not that he would ever actually think I cheated on him, of course, but he's always been a worrier, my Nigel," he said fondly.
"And then he'll say he needs time to think about it, which I understand completely, so I'll try to avoid talking about it as best I can for awhile, go about our regular lives. And then," he said with a smile, "one day he'll come up to me and he'll look very serious , and he'll say, 'Harry,' and I'll say 'Yes love?' And he'll look at me for a bit with the most composed face he can make and then he'll sigh and say, 'Alright, sweetheart, let's go meet that daughter of yours'," Harry grinned, nudging Sophie gently with his fingertips. She relaxed into a smile with a relieved sigh.
"Yeah?"
He gave a confident nod.
"I absolutely think so." Sophie took a sip of her beer, sitting back in her chair comfortably. "I know I've given him a bit of a bad rep, made him seem like the nagging househusband , as it were, but he's… he's really rather sweet when you get past the rough exterior. I have no doubt he'll love you, Soph, and I really do mean that." He reached over and put a hand over hers. "And at any rate, I imagine we'll be seeing you a lot more from now on, so you'll have to get used to each other whether you like it or not." Sophie took the hand over top of hers and squeezed it.
"Thanks, dad."
And there it was, the first time she called him 'dad'. It wasn't a slip up, it wasn't a joke, it was as raw and genuine as it could possibly be. Sophie looked at him with total admiration and it felt like he'd known her forever. That was his daughter right there. He felt his throat tighten as his mouth fumbled for something to say. Sophie's face fell.
"Oh, geez, I'm sorry, that was too soon-"
"No," he said softly, his chest welling up with pride. "No, no, that's alright, that's perfectly fine." He preemptively dabbed at his eyes.
"Thank you, Sophie," he said, tilting his head to look at her. She frowned.
"For what?" Harry gestured around them.
"Giving me all of this. The letter, being able to meet Bill and Sam, seeing your mother again... it's all a gift I'll never be able to repay." Sophie made a choked-up sound. Then, softer, "I'm so damn proud to be your dad, Sophie."
Sophie set her beer back down on the table, stood up, and pulled the much taller man up into a hug, crying on his shoulder. He laughed through his own tears, planting a kiss on her head before resting his cheek on it.