"So, when am I gonna see you again?" Dave's voice is a low, salacious purr, his red eyes narrow with lust and promise and his near-white hair scattered over his face in a sexy just-fucked look enough to make the woman standing in the hall in front of him burn amorously under his hot Strider gaze. She has natural light blonde hair, highlighted with different shades of blonde and captivating green eyes with light freckles that clutter all over her face beautifully. Not to mention her perfectly-sculpted-model-worthy body- truly worth the extensive flirting and playing her hard-to-get for this one night with her.
"A little insatiable, are we?" She says darkly, cocking her head to the side with a sexy smirk that makes Dave want to just drag her back inside and lavish her all over again.
Leaning coolly on the door-frame of the hotel room she's staying at, a carnal grin cracks on his lips in a total un-Strider way, his pants hanging deliciously loose off his hips on purpose. "Baby, you have no idea."
She snorts out a laugh, rolling her eyes and bending slightly to adjust her bag up on her shoulder from the meeting she was originally here only a week for.
Her just-fucked hair is pulled back into a- very sexy- messy ponytail.
"I think I have the basics down." She says coquettishly with a wink, her teeth pulling her bottom lip in between them to try and hide her amusement in her grin that reaches her eyes.
Wow. What he would do for one more shot at this woman.
"Actually, I think I might be in town again sometime in three months. I'll look you up, Coolkid." She adds more casually, her eyes still flirtatious and teasing, and teasing they are.
Hmm. He wants to kiss her.. Give her something to remember him by.
"Yeah, you better." He mumbles, stepping forward with his head down and his dark gaze burning. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him, he just catches her dark grin as his lips claim hers.
To no surprise of his own- this has happened way too many times- she never calls him after that day. Doesn't look him up and over the months and other affairs, he forgets about her entirely.
-oOoOoOoOoOo-
"Ignore it." She moans breathlessly into his ear, her hips swivelling and working on top of him as his apartment phone rings. Doing what he's told with no reservation, his hands find her hips and begin slamming her harder down on his length inside of her. Oh god. He's so close.
He lets his head sag back on the arm of the couch, his mouth open and panting as his newest fuck rides hard and well on top of him, his eyes closed as he climbs higher and higher.
"Yooo, this is Dave. I'm out doing more important things then answering this right now so if I end up giving a shit, I'll think about calling you back. Peace." His voice-mail message plays off monotonously, nothing but mere background noise to the two hot and bothered on the couch.
After the elongated ping of the answering machine, a cool, clipped female voice comes over the machine,
"Hey, Dave? Shit, I was hoping you were home now.."
Dave's eyes peel open, his brows coming together to form a light V between them as he suddenly can't help but focus on the woman's voice, regardless the distraction on top of him. He listens intently- that voice is so fucking familiar. Why? Who?- as she continues in a similar tone, his moans and panting beginning to quiet down so he can hear better and his eyes now fixed towards the machine.
"Look, it's Angela. The girl you banged at the Escala a few months ago?"
Dave halts abruptly, his hands stilling the woman on top of him and his neck whipping over to the machine, hissing at the complaints the other girl is giving him for stopping as he listens with even more regard,
"Yeah, well I need to talk to you. Like, now. My plane is leaving in about. . ." Before she even has time to finish her sentence, he's pushing the other girt aside and clambering clumsily off the couch to run over to the phone. He's still gloriously naked as he scoops up the phone and breathes coolly into it, completely ignoring his dressing, pissed off and frustrated company,
"Angie, yo, I'm here. Sup, baby?"
There's a pause on the other end, Dave just managing to here quietly on the other line, "He answered. Do you know what to do if he refuses? . . . Okay, good. Keep them on standby." Then she's back on the line, saying bluntly without a trace of humour, "A baby, Dave. And it's yours."
Dave stands there, perplexed by her words and for the longest moment, he's silent besides his maintained breathing, his throat closed and petrified in incredulity. His eyes are cavernous when she continues, her tone never changing,
"I got out of the hospital yesterday. She's three days old and your responsibility. I'm not doing this, Dave. I never wanted this."
"Then why did you carry it to term?" His voice is haunted. Please, god, no.
"I don't believe in terminating a life."
"And I don't believe in being a parent right now."
"This isn't up for discussion, Dave. I hardly even wanted to sleep with you, let alone raise your child. I Have my future to focus on and to be honest, I don't have much faith in you doing anything worthwhile in your life. I've given you that opportunity. You can be a father for her or just turn your back on this, on your own baby. The choice is yours, Dave."
"And if I turn my back?" He asks with no hesitation, unfazed by her piercing insults.
There's a moment of silence and an exasperated sigh before she continues coldly, "Then she goes to an adoption housing or foster care to live the rest of her life empty with no answers."
"What makes you think I have any?"
"You're at least her father. I told you, Dave. I'm not doing this. Stop worrying so much about your dick for once in your life and deal with the consequences it's produced, for fuck sakes!" She nearly shouts before continuing in a calmer voice, "I'm leaving. I'm going back to New York, now."
"As in, New York, New York?" He asks in astonishment and fear. Holy shit. She's leaving the fucking state.
"Yes, Dave. My flight is leaving in forty minutes."
Holy fuck.
"I'm leaving her here with a friend of mine at the Starbucks. You have three hours to make up your mind and come collect her, or you won't ever see her again."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Please be dreaming! Go back to the sex!
"Dave, I'm not messing around with you. I'm leaving.."
"How do you know it was mine?" Yes! Keep her talking while you figure something out. He can't seriously be considering this, can he? He knows jack shit about babies, or even children for that matter. Just that they're annoying and smell weird.
"You were the only partner I had at the time."
Shit. Seriously? Girl needs to get out more. His eyes flick over briefly when he hears his front door slam, ignoring it and turning his attention back to the phone call.
"Dave, I have to go. Get a blood test if you have to, but she's your baby. It's obvious."
What? How? This has to fucking be illegal! She agreed to sleeping with me! I'm innocent! Please don't go, holy fuck.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Dave. . ." Hah! I'm so sure!
"I hope you do the right thing. . . You have until seven to make up your mind. . . Goodbye."
There's a pause on the other line- a hesitation, maybe?- before the click cuts off the line and with the other woman gone, Dave stands in his apartment alone to absorb what he was just told.
He sound of the dial tone comes over the line obnoxiously, confirming what he's now been faced with on his own, and with a clatter of the phone to the hardwood, everything goes black
When Dave jerks awake, it's to the painful strain in his shoulders from hanging off the toilet seat in his completely naked, prostrate position. Lifting his head off of his upper arm with a groan, he looks around through blurred delirious eyes, the right side of his face plastered with vomit unironically and everything just a painful haze. What the fuck happened? Where even is he? Oh... His bathroom. Why? His heart nearly stops when the phone call suddenly hits him, his body jerking involuntarily up onto his knees with help from the toilet, then the rest of the way onto wobbling legs. Fuck. What time is it? Is he too late? How long was he out for? Without even bothering to flush the toilet, he barrels through the left open bathroom door and out into the living room to find the nearest clock, his mind whirling out of control and his body swaying dangerously as Angie's words from the phone suddenly swarm him. A baby. His baby. He has to take care of it. That is, if he didn't fuck up royally and miss it. He buckles over with a heaving sigh of relief to see it's only five-fifteen, standing back up with furrowed eyebrows and a look of utter bafflement. Why is he so relieved? He doesn't actually want to go through with this, does he?
Raising his hands to grip two handfuls of platinum blonde hair, he begins pacing back and forth, running them through exasperatedly and promptly beginning to freak the fuck out. The airport is only an hour and a half drive away. Maybe he could go take a look at her? See how "obvious" this truly is? If she looks nothing like him, he won't take her. Yeah, that should be okay. Nobody's forcing him to do anything.
His breathing has picked up immensely as he gets dressed hurriedly in his room, pulling on a pair of sweat pants- forgetting completely about the importance of underwear- and a white T-shirt with a red zip up sweater over it. He manages to at least remember to wash the vomit off of his face before grabbing his keys and nearly sprinting for the elevator, forgetting to lock his door in his rush.
"Shit, shit hold it! Fuck!" He curses when he just misses, taking only a second to catch his breath with a punch to the metal doors before dashing towards the stairwell and bursting through the door. He jumps over railings with ease, nearly falling forward down a flight but quickly catching himself smoothly with his skilled footwork, barely noticing the out of place brightness of the lights from forgetting his shades as well.
He bolts out the side door- the closest to his shit-pile of a car- of his apartment building and jogs over to his red convertible Volkswagen Beetle, hitting the remote to unlock it and within a matter of seconds, he's pulling out of the driveway and starting towards the airport.
He drives in silence along the highway, accompanied only by his panicked thoughts and the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Shit. What the fuck is he doing? His life isn't suited to raise a child, he doesn't even know what they eat. Other than breast milk, which clearly, he's in serious lack of. Formula, maybe? That's what he's heard from television, at least. Baby food? He could probably get that. What else does he need? Fuck. Fuck! He feels like he's going to be sick again as he turns onto the exit for the airport, the biggest decision of his life no more then twenty minutes away, and he couldn't be less prepared for it.
He takes a deep, unironically terrified breath when he puts his car in park outside the airport, leaning forward with a shudder to rest his forehead on his turntable shaped steering wheel, his shoulders visibly shaking as he tries desperately to gather himself. Is he insane? Does she even have a name? There's no cheating in this game. Fuck, this is lame. Rapping hasn't ever solved anything. He turns his head to look at the time, blanching when he sees it glowing there in red numbers. Six forty-seven!? Fuck!
His hand finding his seat belt instantly, he throws it off himself and pulls the keys out of the ignition before barrelling out of his car and nearly tripping forward when he slams the door shut and shakes his balance. Steadying himself out just as quickly, he locks his car and stuffs the keys into his sweater pocket, his mind useless to him in his race against time.
It's approaching six fifty-three when Starbucks finally comes into sight, Dave's unshaded eyes searching frantically around the crowd of people from about twenty feet away and as he finally catches sight of a man around his mid-twenties sitting at a table with a baby-carrier, his heart nearly lurches up his throat. Oh god. Holy shit- is that her? This can't seriously be happening. He can't do this, he can't be a dad. How is he going to raise another life when he barely has any control on his own? No. No. But if he doesn't, he'll be no better then the deadbeats that ran out on him and his brothers.
His hands lift up to thread through his hair as he begins pacing again, his breathing accelerating with his pounding heart and his shoulders trembling hard, his eyes flicking around everywhere and his head shaking over and over again in his panic. What is he going to do? He's going to mess it up, he messes everything up. He's not even a good person, he'll never be a worthy father for another life. He can't do this, he can't!
His eyes snap up when he hears the sound of a baby crying suddenly, his breath escaping from him to see the man with his baby look over at the carrier and quickly tending to rocking it gently. As he watches another man caring for something he gave life to, some unnamed emotion burns within Dave, though it's not until the man checks his watch, looks around with hopeful eyes, then stands to gather his things to leave with a sigh, that Dave suddenly finds himself moving.
He doesn't even have time to really think about what he's doing before he's marching up to the man preparing to leave with his crying baby.
"Hey. Baby snatcher. Hold up." The evident trembling in his voice is the only thing that cracks his tone
He looks down- taller then him by about three inches- at the man as he whirls around to look at him with wide eyes, his voice small and pleading, "Dave?" Wow. This guy is terrified.
"Yo."
"You came." He breathes, his incredulity practically radiating off of him. Dave arches his eyebrow, repeating his "stay cool" mantra in his head. "Uh, yeah? You think I'm the kind of dude to hold out on his own kid because the whore he slept with did and just dumped it on him?" Pretty much sums it up. The man stares at him cautiously, his eyes flicking up and down at Dave and backing up a little in an obvious "Yes, exactly" way.
"Are you going to give me the kid or what?" He snaps with mild exasperation, now pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply to stop himself from saying fuck it and running away like his parents did him as the wrapped up baby cries beside him, unable to explain the sudden physical pain it brings him to listen to.
He regards the man carefully as he picks up the baby carrier with a frown and steadily turns, holding it out in front of him for Dave to take. Dave's eyes widen in wonder as suddenly he's faced with his own child, the pale blonde hair and even paler pigmentation making it clear what she meant by "obvious." He's never seen something so small and delicate before- is this what he looked like when his parents left him with his eldest brother?- Sollux and Karkat's baby almost identical to this one when she was born but somehow, this baby here is different in every way. Because it's your mess, dumb-ass, his subconscious growls at him disapprovingly, making Dave take an involuntary step back away from the carrier out of immeasurable fear.
The man blanches and stares at him, stunned and afraid to watch the father of this baby take a step back from it, his eyes flaring with desperation as he says quickly, pleading, "What are you doing? I thought you wanted it. You can't just walk away." His voice shakes with his shoulders, regarding Dave intently as his breathing begins picking up again. He lives in a single room apartment with his radio hosting career slowly going down the toilet along with his funds. How is he ever supposed to care for a baby? He can't. Maybe he is like his parents after all.
The thought makes sudden inspiration and determination spike within him, his jaw tensing and his fists clenching at his sides as he takes a deep, encouraging breath and steps forward, reaching out to take the carrier before he can change his mind. His eyes widen quickly when he has to add effort to the carrier from the unexpected weight, holding it firmly with one hand on the handle, and the other on the bottom of the plastic, his heart pounding in his chest. It's still crying.
"It's a girl." The man says hesitantly, dragging Dave away from the pain of hearing his- his! He's a father! Holy shit!- baby crying relentlessly. What the fuck is he supposed to do? He's scared to even touch her. "That so? She got a name?" He mumbles, looking down at his daughter with an unreadable expression.
"No."
Dave blinks, lifting his head in confusion before looking back down at the wailing baby, grimacing as he tries gently rocking the carrier in his arms, Stop. Fucking. Crying. I beg of you! "Angela," The man continues reluctantly, "didn't want to have anything to do with her. She only knows the sex because the doctors told it to her. The rest is. . .er. . . up to you."
Pressing his lips together and closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, clutching the carrier tightly and holding it against his chest as he lets it out slowly to try and keep it together at least here. With a dismissing nod, the man breathes with relief and quickly scurries away, gone by the time Dave finally opens his eyes to look down at his daughter. The thought is still baffling, that he created this tiny little thing- that won't shut up- in his arms.
Setting her carefully down on the table again, he sits down on the chair in front of her, rocking her gently by the rounded bottom of the carrier and staring at her with intense eyes, her crying continuing. Fuck. Is this how it's going to be? Looking around cautiously, he reaches his hands into the carrier hesitantly, positioning his hands in about five different ways- what did they say in the movies? Supporting the neck?- before cupping her head gently while his other hand wraps around her and very carefully pulls her out of the carrier, her blankets still in tact.
He pulls her to his chest quickly but steadily, positioning his arms underneath her tiny body to hold her like they do in the movies, his eyes wide and trembling as he stares down at her in disbelief and wonder. Very gently, he begins slowly rocking her in his arms, his lips parted in his concentrated and a little exhale spilling from him as she begins gradually quieting down until there's nothing but quiet cooing sounds from her. He did it. He has no idea how long it took him to do it, but he did!
With her finally asleep like this now, Dave takes this moment to really examine his baby girl, taking in every detail like, her very thin blonde hair, how soft and round- and small! Holy shit, what if he drops her?- the top of her head is. The way her hands are curled up on her chest over the pale blue hospital blanket and with a quick pat on her bottom, the relief that she is in fact wearing a diaper.
As the very frightening realization that he has no fucking idea what he's doing comes back to him in a wave of clenching pain, his jaw tenses again with a shuddering breath, a terrified frown tugging at his brows and his hold on her tightening just a little. What should he do? It's not like he can just give her up now. She's his. He has to be here for her so she doesn't live the life he did. He needs help. There's no way around this and nothing ironic about it, either. Dave Strider needs to sincerely ask for help.
Carefully depositing his baby girl back in the carrier- taking note of the three clean diapers stuffed at the side- Dave picks up his little doll and protectively carries her through the crowd of people, out of the airport and back to his VW Bug. Karkat. He'll know what to do. Him and Sollux have a one year old baby girl, they'll know exactly what to do, bits and all.
Making sure she's safely beside him on the passenger seat with the safety belt wrapped around the carrier- out of a brand of paranoia he's never felt before- securely, he starts the engine of the car and pulls on his own seat belt on before glancing over at his little doll. "You've really done it this time, Dave. Way to go. Real life baby dolls for everyone."
In his newly exposed emotions, his Texan drawl is slightly more pronounced, giving the word "doll" a more "Dahl" sound to it that makes Dave blink and lift his eyebrow over at her sleeping peacefully, then back to the wheel so he can back out of his spot.
"No name, huh?" He asks quietly while they drive along the highway back to his city, continuing in his deep, monotonous voice after a few minutes of silence- babies don't talk, moron. "Well, what you think about Dahl? Dahlia?" His voice lowers to a mumble, saying it a few more times to test it out before saying more sincerely, "Dahlia. . . Dahlia Strider. Got a nice ring to it, don't you think?" He says as he glances over to his newborn, sighing in boredom before glancing back to the road. "Right. Not big on conversation. Cool, I guess."
Dahlia Rose Strider. Sounds like a girly name, right? Sounds like a type of tea, his subconscious sneers. Well, perfect, then, Rose will at least appreciate that. Thinking of Rose, he'll probably ask her and Kanaya for help, too. Yeah. Lesbians will know what to do with or without children of their own., It's like, bred into their blood or something. He's not going to give up on her like his parents gave up on him. He'll be a father that she'll- hopefully- be proud to have
And so Dahlia Rose Strider was born, June fourteenth, 2020. Though, she didn't truly start living until the seventeenth, the day she opened up a whole new world for Dave Strider and finally brought light to his darkness.