Chapter Text
Dave was starting to regret ever calling Child Protective Services.
He had broken his first bone at 7, after a particularly intense sparring session. He had first thought of running away at 12, when Bro threatened to dropkick him off the roof of their apartment building, but the idea led to nothing.
It took him 14 years of living with his brother before he realized he was completely independent of him, and once that switch flipped, everything changed. It was a slow, subtle change at first, but a change nonetheless. It involved Dave toning down his ironic tendencies. It involved Dave avoiding Bro more than usual, declining his invitations to a sparring session on the roof, talking back on multiple occasions. This earned him a few beatings, but he refused to back down. The tension in the Strider apartment had become thick enough to cut with a shitty katana, so thick that Dave finally had to do a fucking pirouette off the handle.
It took all but a day for that tension to shatter. A demand to come to the roof led to Dave's dam breaking, led to him shouting a lifetime's worth of accusations at his brother, led to a physical altercation which left Dave broken, battered, and beaten. He managed to pull himself across the roof towards the stairs, take them slowly down to his apartment, and reach his room, where he dialed a number he had looked up a few weeks ago, when he'd been too afraid to call. He wasn't too afraid anymore.
"Hello, you have reached Child Protective Services. How may I help you?"
"Well, I'm a child in need of protective services," Dave replied shakily.
From there, things spiraled out of Dave's control, as for the next few weeks he was shuttled around by CPS workers from the hospital to the CPS center to a courthouse to the home of one of the workers, who'd been kind enough to give him a temporary shelter as the world spun around him. The court set a date for Bro's trial and took Dave out of his custody.
And, since Dave wasn't yet old enough to live on his own, he was put into foster care.
That's about the time when Dave realized he'd made a huge mistake.
~~~~~
The CPS worker drove Dave to his first foster home, humming along to the radio the whole time. Dave ignored her, staring out the window as small cookie-cutter homes flew past.
"Don't worry, Mr. Strider," the lady said, as she slowed down in front of one of the homes. Dave wouldn't have been able to distinguish it from any other. "I've dealt with plenty of kids with disturbing childhoods just like yours, and I am so pleased Ms. Maryam decided to take you in. She's one of the most capable foster parents we've seen, and can certainly handle kids with such interesting psychological cases."
Dave slid a look to his seemingly disinterested chauffeur, feeling emptier by the second. As much as he'd hated Bro, and hated how warped his life had been, there was still a huge part of his old life that was gone forever, and he couldn't help but miss that. After all, Bro was still, well, his Bro. He'd just lost everything he had ever known.
"You'll enjoy it here, Mr. Strider. And, if not, I promise to provide you a new home, far from your brother and his sociopathic tendencies."
"Thanks," Dave replied quietly, holding in a sigh. The lady parked the car and got out, and Dave followed suit, grabbing his suitcase from the back. They'd let him bring a few things from his old home- lots of clothes, his phone and laptop, a few posters, and a few old ironic selfies. Of course, they'd confiscated all his weapons, not that he ever wanted to see another shitty anime sword for the rest of his life. They also hadn't let him keep the formaldehyde jars of dead animals, probably because it creeped the hell out of them and only served as a reminder of how 'disturbed' a kid he was.
Dave followed the CPS lady up a paved walkway to the door. He stopped in front of the door, feeling something immovable in his chest. He wasn't ready for such a tremendous change in his life. He could just run away, provide for himself like he's used to doing, worrying about some unseen threat lurking in the shadows and dealing with it the same way he's dealt with every psychologically damaging thing in his life.
"Hey." The lady placed a tentative hand on Dave's shoulder, making him jump at the unexpected touch. "You'll be fine, Mr. Stri... Dave. Things are changing, but it'll be for the better. You'll adjust. There's nothing to worry about."
Dave looked over at the lady, whose stern face had softened into a genuine smile, and nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Y-yeah," he stuttered, raising his voice, trying to sound more sincere. He barely knew how to be honest, to be openly grateful. "Thank you for everything."
She squeezed his shoulder. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to contact me." She dropped her hand from his shoulder to ring the doorbell.
In about three seconds the door opened, revealing a tall woman, around her mid-thirties, in a slightly-too-formal dress, a bemused smirk playing at her lips. "I presume you are Dave," she said in a lilting tone, bending slightly to be at eye level with the teen. "I am excited to be meeting you." She held out a hand, her expression shining with enthusiasm.
"Uh..." Dave tentatively took the proffered hand, giving it a small shake. "Nice to meet you... too. Ms... Marian?"
"Kanaya Maryam, Dave. You can call me Ms. Maryam, or... if you were comfortable with calling your previous guardian 'Bro', then-"
"No!" Dave interrupted, eyes wide behind his shades. He then coughed at Maryam's and the CPS worker's surprised looks, and tried to compose himself. "Not that."
Kanaya nodded, pursing her lips. "That is understandable. No mention of him will be made in this household." She turned to the CPS worker, the grin returning to her face. "And hello to you, Ms. Lalonde. I see you have brought another lost sheep to my fold."
Lalonde laughed, winking at Maryam. "Don't get so haughty, Ms. Maryam, alluding to Jesus as if you are on par with him."
"I did not mean to come off that way with my so-called allusion. It was only a metaphor."
Dave looked at them in disbelief. Were they... flirting? "Okay, lovebirds, break it up. You're forgetting why we're here."
Maryam chuckled at Dave, hiding her smile with one hand. "You certainly are perceptive."
"I think it's obvious to every sane person and their dog in a half-mile radius that you two have a thing." Dave knew his patented nonsense Strider rambling probably wasn't the best way to introduce himself, but this lady was gonna get an earful of it eventually. "In fact, I'm sure there's a dog out there right now, getting an earful of this and thinking, 'Jeez, can those two be any more obvious?'"
"You are well-versed in sarcastic prose, I see," Kanaya stated, smiling. She seemed to find his interjections amusing. Well, amusement was better than nothing.
"Hey Kanny, who's all up and at the door?" A wavering voice came from inside the house, and Ms. Maryam shot a worried look in. Dave tried to look around her, curious about his new... siblings? The thought was a little weird for him to process. He was so used to only having Bro.
"I swear to God, Makara, can't you see she's busy?" This voice was different, in that it’s loud and incredibly angry. Who were these kids Ms. Maryam had taken in?
"I just fucking wanted..." the first voice started in a whisper, which Dave has to really lean in to hear, before the volume quickly escalates, "TO KNOW WHO OUR MOTHER FUCKING VISITOR IS!"
Dave almost took a step back, startled by the anger in the voices. Did Lalonde really think that he was as fucked up as these kids?
Maryam's worried look deepened, before she glanced at her new foster child. "I apologize, he is usually more well-behaved than this. I will calm him down before you come in. He really does like having new foster siblings." She slipped back into the house, closing the door softly. Dave could still hear the muffled, faint yelling. He whirled on Lalonde.
"I don't think I belong here," he said, staring the lady down as best as he could from an inch below her.
She shook her head, disappointment obvious on her face. "You haven't even given her a chance yet."
"Do you think I belong here? Do you really think I'm that disturbed? What does that kid have, schizo?"
Lalonde glanced at the closed door, sighing. "I suppose. Mr. Makara was one of the worst that she took in. Quite the unordinary, messed up case, that one. Yours definitely pales in comparison."
"Then why am I here with... him?"
She turned back to Dave, crossing her arms. "Your upbringing was certainly unordinary and messed up, as you've said yourself. There is always a chance that you may have developed some of the same sociopathic tendencies as your... guardian."
"Bullshit," Dave couldn't help but retort. He hated the idea that he could be anything like Bro. He wouldn't allow himself to be as much of a douche. "Unlike him, I actually try to care about people."
Lalonde tilted her head to the side. "You try to care? Am I wrong to assume that you sometimes find it difficult to actually care?"
Dave clenched his jaw, looking away. "That's not what I said." He couldn’t deny it, though. He had trouble making connections at school, and the only real friend he had was online. He'd only ever had ghostyTrickster, though as far as best bros go, John was certainly the best of the best.
"Besides," Lalonde continued, "there is still the issue of possible violent tendencies. You grew up with weapons and bombs and other dangerous items as household commodities. There is no telling what effect that may have had on your psyche."
Dave looked down, jaw still clenched. "I'm never touching another shi- another katana again."
"That's the first step on the road to recovery." Lalonde smiled coyly. Before Dave could retort, the door opened, revealing Maryam once again. Behind her, another boy, who looked a year or two older than Dave, stood sheepishly, gangly limbs dangling. Dave couldn't see much of him, but the kid seemed to be wearing facepaint and polka-dot sweatpants.
"Sorry for the interruption. However, I believe it may be best that you meet this foster sibling first. Dave Strider, this is Gamzee Makara. Gamzee," she gave the boy a pointed look, "say hello to Dave."
Gamzee, the schizo, who was most definitely wearing facepaint, smiled. There were three parallel, diagonal scars on his face that stretched with his smile, and his Einstein-like hair stuck up in a million different directions. "What is all and up with the mother fucking flow, my miraculous bro?" the guy said, holding out a fist, possibly for a fist bump. Dave rose an eyebrow at Maryam.
"Are you fostering a schizophrenic juggalo?" he asked, eyeing both Maryam and her foster child with suspicion.
Maryam laughed, patting Gamzee's head. "He is not as scary as he seems. In fact, he's the most laid back of us all for a majority of the time. He can just get riled up easily. He is, like many of the kids I take in, the product of an unpredictable childhood."
Dave looked up and down the complacent clown, shrugged, and bumped the dude's fist. He didn't seem that bad... at least, not at that moment. Dave could kinda see how something trivial could make a guy like this snap. "Seems pretty chill to me. I guess. As long as he doesn't yell at me."
"I will keep his yelling to a minimum. And please, feel free to talk directly to him. He can carry out conversation just as well as you and I can."
"What's up, clown dude?" Dave asked, not even blinking at how absurd the whole situation was. This juggalo was one of his new siblings. Who's next? A ventriloquist? He didn't need any more puppets in his life, that was for sure.
"I think I can take him from here, Ms. Lalonde," Maryam said, watching Dave's attempt to be civil with plenty of amusement.
"Then I believe I have no choice but to part from you, Ms. Maryam," Lalonde replied, bowing a little. "Adieu, mi amore."
"Would you guys get a room already?" Dave asked, breaking from the juggalo conversation he'd barely understood. He swore he could see Maryam blushing.
"Okay, I know when I'm not wanted," Lalonde stated, before walking back to her car. "Have fun, Dave! I'm sure you'll fit in just fine." With that, she hopped in the car and drove off.
"Are you prepared to meet the rest of your foster siblings?" Maryam asked, stepping into the house, the door hanging open. Gamzee smiled lazily, and though it creeped Dave out a little, it was kind of welcoming, in the way only a possibly psychotic juggalo could be.
"Sure."
And with one small step through the door, his life changed irrevocably.