fandomhigh | Newspaper Club, Journalism Room, Monday after classes

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!club: newspaper

Newspaper Club, Journalism Room, Monday after classes

This was Dave. This was Dave embarrassed that he wasn't able to properly get the newspaper fixed up this week after the paranoid idiot he was over the weekend wrote for the newspaper for some inexplicable reason. He looked a lot like Dave any other time, in that he was behind a desk and clutching a cup of coffee. He looked rather unlike Dave at any other time because his head was on the desk and occasionally lifted just high and long enough to drop back down with a sad thud.

He also had a bagel next to his coffee, which was also new.

"Anyone have any non-crazy news for next week?" he sighed one of the times he lifted his head up. Then he let himself headdesk again.

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With your default so you can reestablish that you're you again.

Get started on stuff or just talk or whatever. Dave won't notice. His head is down.

Or just talk to Dave or whatever. He'll notice that.

Who Dave hoped wasn't laughing at his expense.

Wheeeeeeeee!

Depends. Was it laughing at his expense if she was reading this week's paper and trying not to die laughing?

If so, sorry Dave.

Sam Puckett -- who is crazy enough on her own, really.

"So," Sam asked. "Can we expect a full expose on the influx of telepathic spy babies?"

"No, I think one editorial was enough," Dave sighed. "Even if it didn't fully express the horror of the baby's telekinetic abilities."

Sigh.

"I don't know, I think you could go way deeper into this conspiracy." DB burped from her backpack (what? She left the top open for him!), and she smirked. "I even have one for you to interrogate."

"Oh god, you don't have your baby in your backpack, do you?" Dave asked.

Of course, his was taking a nap in the desk drawer ~~since I forgot it would be his day with the baby when I wrote this post~~ so he had no room to judge. But the drawer was cracked open! So... There was that.

"And I wouldn't interrogate a droid baby even if it could talk. I can't imagine it would be a very compelling discussion."

"The top's zipped open!" Sam said. "And he's got a chicken bone to gnaw on. He'll yell if he wants something."

He'd yell even if he didn't. It was how he and Sam communicated, by this point.

Annie Edison, who... same, really.

"Well, you've certainly found a style of parenting that works for you," Dave admitted.

"Not like my partner's going to object. Loki hasn't even touched the sucker."

"Maybe he just knows that your baby likes you better," Dave suggested. "I mean, it takes a cool mom to give a kid animal bones. How can he compete?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "No, he just thinks he's a god and taking care of babies is the girl's job. It's okay, though. DB doesn't like him, anyway."

As evidenced by the droid baby hitting Loki with his stuffed Ewok. Twice.

"I was right about him liking you better," Dave said. "I get credit for that, right?"

Sam wasn't sure that the kid liked her at all, really, but sure.

"What, do you want a cookie or something?"

"While that sounds nice in theory, I don't really want a meat cookie," Dave said. Yes, he was making assumptions about what kind of cookie she'd provide. "I'll stick to my bagel."

"Hey, I eat regular cookies, too." But as Freddie had once pointed out, there was no guarantee that she'd washed her hands before handling them. "Fine. You should give the kid some coffee, though. It could make it dance funny."

"You know this from experience?" Dave checked.

"Yep." Sam didn't elaborate. "Why, don't believe me?"

"If I ask you to prove it, will you give DB some coffee so we can see him in action?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, okay." What? Sam's mom had done it to her, and she hadn't turned out entirely too horribly. Sam shrugged off her backpack and pulled out DB. He looked practically feral, dingy and wearing rumpled clothes, the end of a chicken bone sticking out of his mouth. He blinked around as Sam picked him up, then popped the bone out of his mouth and let out an ear piercing shriek.

Sam winced. "And that's why he was in the backpack."

"Okay, the backpack makes more sense now," Dave admitted as he poured a little bit of coffee in a new mug.

What? He wasn't using his own mug. "Can you get him to stop screaming long enough to get him to drink?"

"Dunno." Sam held DB up so she could look him in the eye. "Hey! Baby! Be quiet!"

DB threw his bone at her, but did actually shut up. She set him carefully on the desk.

"Alright, kid. Coffee time." She held out the hand not holding DB in a sitting position out for the mug.

Dave handed the mug over. "I really wish I had a camera right now."

"I know, right? Kid could be a star." Well, an internet star, at least. She held the mug up to DB's lips, and he sniffed it suspiciously before screwing his mouth up. "Come on. Drink or no more bones."

DB pouted, then took a fairly large gulp, for a faux baby. Sam tipped the cup up until he finished it, then watched him thoughtfully.

"I think we need some music."

"I also don't have anything that plays music," Dave said. "I could drum out a beat on the desk."

"What, you don't have a PearPod or anything?" Laaaaaame. Sam pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through it until she found a Hannah Montana track. "Alright, baby." She hit play. "Dance! Dance! Mwahahahahaha!"

What? The evil laugh was totally obligatory.

DB was definitely jittery, and started bopping back and forth in a baby way to the music. After a moment, he even flopped his arms around.

What? You didn't get a lot of fine motor control out of a baby the age DB was meant to be.

"I'm from 1981. The best I have is a record player at home," Dave said. "And, okay, that is pretty great."

"He's got some charm," Sam said. "You know, for a dirty little rugrat."

It wasn't DB's fault he was dirty. Sam just kept expecting him to take a bath on his own.

"In another couple decades, he'll be a real lady-killer with those kind of moves," Dave said. "I mean, maybe literally, since he is a robot."

The robot revolution would surely come someday.

"He's pretty good at turning anything into a weapon."

"So not just bones?" Dave asked. "What else has he gotten his hands on?"

"My collection of hammers," Sam said.

Yes, she had a collection of hammers.

Dave was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answers to the first couple questions that came to mind, so he quickly settled on, "You realize that turning a hammer collection into weapons isn't difficult, right? All you do is aim it at someone instead of a nail."

"That's pretty much true about anything," Sam said. "I could probably beat you up with a grapefruit."

"Well, grapefruits are huge," Dave argued. "But you couldn't beat me up with an orange. Maybe."

"That a challenge?"

"What? No!" Dave said. "Absolutely not a challenge."

"That's probably wise."

"I've never been in a fight at all. I don't want my first one to be over whether or not an orange can hurt me," Dave said.

"You've never been in a fight?"

Pardon Sam, she found that hard to believe. Didn't everyone grow up fighting at least someone?

"Please don't take that as an invitation," Dave requested.

"Do you just run away a lot?"

"No, people mostly just ignored me," Dave said. "I wasn't really worth beating up."

"Don't sell yourself short. I'm sure someone wanted to beat you up."

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