Chapter 1: Strawberry is 'Fuck you'
"The surgery will fix it, potentially."
"Potentially? You're going to have to explain a little more. I don't know what I can tell you other than 'use more words, potentially expounding upon the subject .'" Dick scowled, arms crossed over his chest as Dave swung his feet, kicking a beat into the drawers under the bed. A steady, musical beat.
"There's a possibility it won't work."
"How much of a possibility, Doc?"
"I don't know exactly…"
"Have you done this before? Do you even have an idea of what will happen if it fails?" he glared harder, narrowing his eyes at the doctor, a tick working in his jaw. He'd lost patience with this woman. She was timid and fidgety. It made him wonder how she'd even gotten her job.
Or did Striders just have that effect on people.
Huh, the 'Strider effect'. That's another one Dave will appreciate when he's older.
"We've never done it on a child his age. It would be an experiment. Right now it's just theoretical."
"And an experimental-slash-theoretical surgery that could, maybe, let's say 'kill' David…Would you say that it's worth the risk? In the long run, is it really worth the potential cost?"
"Something like this could be very expensive, Mister Strider."
"I'm not talking about money. I'm talking 'quality of life'. I'm talking about his live, the possibility of living without the kid. Are you trying to tell me that the experiment is worth the life of a kid? Can you guarantee his safety?"
"It's worth it. I really think so."
"Will going without it kill him?"
"Well, no… But going through it could restore his voice."
"No, Fuck you. If it's not going to kill him, if he's going to be otherwise perfectly fine, then we'll find our own work around." She was pushing her luck.
"Richard… Please, consider the surgery. Think about the long term benefits for David and what it would mean for his future. He would have such a better life." She gestured to Dave, who was now giving her a wary look, only sitting on the table because he hadn't figured out the end of the song in his head, and the beat was helping him.
"No." Dick glanced at Dave, quirking a brow at the boy, curious, as always, as to what was going on in his head. With no way of communicating, just yet, he had no idea what the three year old was doing.
"But…" Dick caught Dave glaring at the woman, baring his teeth in a very un-strider fashion.
"But nothing, we're changing paediatricians." he hissed. "We're not going to be bullied into a treatment he's just fine without."
"But…"
Dick put his back to dave, between her and his 'son', staring her down with his amber eyes.
"But nothing. Dave can HEAR just fine. He can't speak, but we'll figure it out. Someone else can handle his ear-nose-throat issues." he scowled, not even looking over his shoulder, giving no physical indication of what was to come. "C'mon little dude." he made it as quiet as possible, proving his point, of course, as Dave hopped down from the table, huffing in frustration at his Bro, tapping out a new beat as he stood beside him.
"Yeah, putcher glasses back on, pull your hood, it's still daylight out there. We're going to go for burgers and milkshakes." he held his hand out to the boy as the kid finished following the orders in the swift, efficient Strider way.
Dave took the hand and bro scooped him up, balancing the three year old on his hip, keeping his gaze on the woman as he made his way to the door.
"He'll be mute his whole life, Richard."
"Mister. Strider. And I think we're cool with that, so long as Little dude is healthy, otherwise. Right Dave?"
Dave nodded enthusiastically, then lifted his shades to glare at the doctor a little more, his lip poking out petulantly.
"Then let's get truckin' munchkin." he smirked, proud that the kid knew an asshole when he saw one. "Remember, Vanilla is one, chocolate is two, and strawberry is 'fuck you'. You remember fuck you?"
The boy held the middle fingers of both hands up, grinning, then he presented them to the doctor.
"Hey. You don't tell a lady 'fuck you'. You tell her go fuck herself. What am I teaching you here, how to be a monkey?" he ruffled the kids hair, grinning proudly.
"You remember why strawberry is 'fuck you' right?" he questioned, walking down the hall, arms fastened around the kid as he headed for the exit. He relaxed a little when Dave nodded. They were allergic to certain things. Strawberries, shrimp, certain preservatives.
Bro thought back to the last session. To when he knew a boy with dark green eyes-the same green he dressed Dave in-the boy was allergic to peanuts. He'd sent them to him as a joke and was informed it was a rude and entirely insensitive thing to do, but thank you, the tinker bulls liked them.
He hummed thoughtfully and carried the kid to his shitty car, glancing at the boy as he buried his face in the white of Dick's shirt. He smiled fondly, promising silently that he wouldn't lose Dave to anything he didn't have to.
"It's ok, little dude. We'll figure it all out soon enough. We'll figure out how to make the sun your bitch." he promised, hiking him a little higher as he fumbled for his keys, unlocking the car. Dave crawled from the elder Strider's arms and into his seat. "we'll walk in, is that ok, Dave?"
The boy nodded and Bro smiled approvingly, helping him with the straps to the car seat.
"You got this?" he tested the straps, quirking a brow at the kid over his shades, receiving a nod as the boy pulled his hood over his face with a grin. "Cool." Six long steps took him to the other side of the car and he sank down into his seat, starting the car, monitoring the boy in the back seat protectively.
He would tear the stars down for that kid, even if he wasn't capable of it.
No. All he could do was work him to a point where he could do pretty much anything he needed to do, when the time came for it. How did the session players forget their training, and the guardians remember? It struck him as incredibly unfair.
It was unfair that he didn't have Jake to consult, or Jane to pester, and that Lalonde was too… Lalonde to be of any help.
A sigh spilled past his lips as he ran a frustrated, fingerless-gloved hand through his hair, shoving his hat off for a moment while they waited at a red.
"When you get your first friends," he said, peering at the kid in the rear view, "you treasure those fuckers like gold. You don't have to tell them, but you treasure them, and you protect them, got it, little knight?"
The boy nodded uncertainly, frowning. He got that look every time Bro said something like this in that warning, worried tone.
The approving nod from Bro reassured Dave, and he sank into the seat, peering at his hands thoughtfully, before poking at his throat, wondering why he had to go to the doctor so often. What was wrong with not speaking?