Author's note:- Okay. Just a little heads up. First of all, I want to thank all of you for the comments and reads and votes, like, holy crap. Your amazing.
Secondly, this chapter is a little bit more Robert than normal. It gives you an idea about his life. So... it is pretty important.
Enjoy. :)
.
.
.
He laughs, "oh, please tell me that you are pulling my leg or something." He was met with her blank stare. "This is a joke," Robert frowns, leaning forward in his seat with difficulty. "He tried to-"
"I am aware of what he was trying to do, Mr Foster-"
"Then why aren't you doing anything about it?" He yells in reply, standing. Sarah's hand lands on her office phone. He sighs, closes his eyes, "I'm sorry."
"You should be," she snaps. "I should get security right now."
Robert sits down again, grabbing a pen from her desk, clicking it out of irritation. "It was rage, Sarah. I swear. I am never," he raises his eyes to look at her, "like that. You've known me for what, ten years?" He exhales in frustration. "I have kids, come on. I am not a violent person. I just-"
"Robert." She says.
He continues, looking at the floor, following the patterns of the carpet. "I don't like to see grown men treat women like that. Especially women that they are supposed to love. And they... they don't even realise what it is like to not have that person anymore. It... in my opinion, if I may, Mrs O'dowd, the guy should have been locked up ages ago.
He should have been removed from the scene and from the building but... I was. I'm sorry for not understanding that very well but it doesn't make sense. You can not suspend me for protecting a colleague."
"You were removed because I didn't want you to get hurt." The blonde woman gives him a sympathetic look. "You can not raise your hand in a school. Never mind to a parent or-"
"He wasn't a parent!" He throws the pen across the table.
"Or carer." She finishes, catching the pen in her hand. Robert groans;
"He wasn't either."
"I don't care what or who he was, Mr Foster. You are a teacher. You raised your hand in a school in front of the children." Sarah tells him, crossing her legs.
"This school is a fucking joke." He growls, rubbing his face. "Why don't you just fire me?"
"Because I promised Diana," she says. He looks up at her, eyes surprised. "She asked me to give you a job and to make sure that you don't make your life go to shit."
He sighs, "I wasn't born to be a teacher. You know what I am good at. Why do you think I succeeded?"
"But you are a teacher now, Robert. Those days are over. Have been for six years now."
"I know," he says. "I know." They sit in silence for a few moments. "So what happens now, then?"
Sarah grabs a slip of paper from one side of her desk and uses the pen Robert threw only moments ago to scribble something down. "This," she hands him it. "Is your suspension slip. When you leave you give the office the green one and when you come back, you hand them the white one."
"I'm suspended."
"Yup."
"From High School."
She nods her head.
Robert crosses his arms, winces and stares, "feel like a fucking teenager again."
"No swearing in my office."
He glares at her and she just laughs. "See you on Thursday, Mr Foster."
"Why can't I have no work for a week instead of two days? There is no point in that!"
"Because you'd have too much fun," she replies. "Now I feel as though I am speaking to a teenager."
"Oh, shut up."
"Here is a thought," she ignores his comment, "get some rest, go to the hospital, get yourself a hair cut and talk to Libby."
"Hey! My hair is perfectly fine."
She raises an eyebrow. He frowns, "what, it is!"
"Says who?"
"The women of America. No seriously, do you realise how many women come up to me everyday, it's sickening really."
"Probably to measure the length of your hair in centimetres."
He ignores her and makes a face, "why do I have to talk to Libby anyway?"
She gives him a look he is positive that his daughter has given him before. It is normally the 'Dad, you just don't get it' expression. "We both know why you and Libby need to talk."
He smirks. "... did you just use air quotations?"
"Get out of my office."
"I have started a trend!" He exclaims, leaving the room.
Sarah sighs again, "how you ever did put up with him, Diana, I'll never know."
.
.
.
"Oh My God, Dad, what even is this catastrophic sound?"
Robert glances at his daughter in the rear view mirror, eyebrow slowly raising. "Why are you even using that word, your ten."
"What does catastopic mean?" Little Dave asks with a flabbergasted look on his face.
"Catastrophic, buddy. Don't worry, you don't have to know that yet-"
"It means; extremely harmful; bringing physical pain or financial ruin." Dawn answers, almost as though she should know that at ten years of age.
Dave frowns, "what does piscal mean?" Robert sends him a sympathetic look. Poor kid.
"Stop using big words," Dylan groans behind Robert. His father smiles. At least one of them got his genes.
"They are not big words. You are fourteen. Not my fault you are just stupid."
"And your ugly."
Dawn gasps, "no I am not! Daddy, Dylan just-"
"Dylan. Dude, come on, you never say that to a girl; even if they are." Dawn kicks the back of his chair. Robert grunts, his ribs groaning at the sudden movement. "No, Dawn, you are not ugly. You are a princess, my princess, okay?"
She sticks her tongue out at her big brother. Dylan pushes her face away. "Get away from me you mutant."
"Dad!"
"Not a mutant either, Princess."
"Who is that on the radio? They are burning my ears."
"And you are burning my ears," Dylan mumbles, earning a slap. "Hey. Abuse! This is bullyism."
Robert pauses, coming to a stop sign and makes a face. Bullyism? He forgets it and turns around to face Dawn. "That sound is Linken Park; one of my favourite bands. Not any One Direction or Taylor Swift or Olly Murs. This is my music."
"It's crap."
"Do you want to be grounded for a year?"
She rolls her eyes in all of her glorious attitude and slumps back in her seat. Dylan snickers.
"One Direction. More like Shitty Direction."
"Dylan, I hate you!"
Robert closes his eyes.
Just let them get home safely, for Christ's sake.
.
.
.
"Dad, are you limping?"
Robert sighs, "no, Dawn. My back is just sore." He lies.
"Yeah," Dylan buts in, "it's age." Robert glares at him. "Sorry."
Robert lifts Dave into his arms with a grunt, "I'll just take my favourite child with me then." Dave giggles and sticks his tongue out at his older siblings. Dawn rolls her eyes.
"I hope you realise that dad actually meant that he just hates you."
"He said his favourite child. Not children."
"That doesn't include you." Dylan looks down at her.
"But he loves me anyway." Dawn says.
"Why would he?" Her brother retorts.
"Because it's me." Dawn flips her hair and strolls away.
"You are beginning to act like dad now, it's disgusting." He grumbles, following behind.
"Just jealousy, my dear brother."
He widens his eyes and shakes his head. "Please stop watching mean girls with dad. Please."
Robert sighs as Dawn and Dylan enter the house. He closes the door. "Don't worry, we can afford to be robbed, guys."
As usual, he doesn't get an answer as the children wall up the stairs and he walks to the kitchen.
"Dave! I asked you to-Ugh!"
"I'm sorry daddy!"
The five year old begins to sob as he sits amongst a large pile of spilled pasta on the floor. "It fell."
"I thought it flew." Robert mumbles, "Dawn, can you come clean this up for me, honey, I can't bend down."
"It's age!" Comes Dylan's voice.
"Do you want to be locked in the fridge?"
He waits a few beats and then;
"Yeah!"
The man rolls his eyes for the fourth... fifth time today?
Now he is feeling very teenager-like.
He blames Dawn. Even though she shouldn't be acting like a teenager for another three years-
"Dad!"
He blinks. Dawn is standing with her hands on her hips. "You called?"
He gestures over to her little brother. "Can you clean it up, please? My-"
"Back is sore, I know. Dylan told me that it happens with age."
"I am not old!"
"Old enough to have a fourteen year old son."
Holy shit.
He's old.
Robert pushes the thought away and glares. "Dylan's just stupid."
She raises her arms in the air, "that's what I say!" As she moves to clean the cereal away, she mumbles. "Thank god somebody agrees with me." And Robert smirks.
"Dave. Stop bathing in the pasta you weird child. Come on. Let's go up stairs and run you a bath, eh? then I'll get the dinner ready."
"What are we having?" Dawn asks, shovelling the pasta into the bin.
He watches the food disappear. "Not pasta anymore, anyway. Why don't we just have pizza and chips?"
Dave squeals. "Yeah!"
"That's so tacky." Dawn grimaces.
Her father shrugs. "You could also starve?"
"Whatever." And she's away.
Dave raises his arms up to his dad. "Lift."
"What, no. You can walk. I am not carrying you- stop using the eyes I passed down to you. You can not use my own weapon against me. No, Dave. You have legs. You can walk."
.
.
.
"Thanks, daddy!" Dave yells, running off to the bathroom.
Robert inhales and stretches, ribs crying out in pain. "Yeah. Fucking puppy eyes. I just got blackmailed by a bloody five year old."
.
.
.
Dave, Dylan and Dawn sit on Robert's bed as he paces in front of them dressed in purple Calvin Klein boxers and a super dry top, drying his hair with a towel. Dylan snickers.
"You find something funny?"
He chews his lips, shaking his head. He stands. "I'll just go and watch tv."
"Yeah you just go and watch tv."
"Nice underwear!" Dylan calls back.
Robert pouts. "I like purple."
Dawn is on her phone laying on her back, "calm down."
He scoffs. "Calm down? I have a broken rib!"
"You have a what? Since when? How?" She exclaims. "Who did you fight, dad?"
Nothing." He mutters, staring at the floor. "I like this floor. It's nice."
Dave gasps. "Daddy. You said that fighting wasn't good. You told me not to fight."
I didn't fight, Dave. And yes. It is bad. I don't want you to ever fight somebody unless you have to."
"I want to be a westler." Dave says, eyes bright.
"No you don't," Robert crushes his dreams.
"What happened?" Dawn asks.
"Nothing, he grumbles. "This guy was just annoying my co-worker."
"Dad. It's girlfriend. When you date a woman, it is called having a girlfriend. God."
He glares. "Why thank you for clearing the up. Because obviously I haven't ever dated a woman and had three kids."
"Where did I come from?" Dave asks out of the blue.
Dawn opens her moth to answer when Robert beats her to it. "Marzipan."
Dawn frowns. "Isn't that, like, a cake topping or some sort of icing?"
"Nope. It's where Dave came from."
"Anyway," she says, eyes stuck on the screen. "You like this 'co-worker."
"Why did you just say it like that? I don't. Pfft. What? Oh, please. No."
"Your blushing." Dawn grins, her cheeks raising from her position on the bed.
"Am I?" He falls for it. "What, no I'm not. Shut up."
She giggles. "Sure, dad."
"Who even got you a phone anyway?"
"Auntie Izzy." She answers.
"Of course she did." Trust his sister to but his daughter everything that is twenty first century.
"Jesus. Calm down. I wasn't the one who pushed you into the bath."
"No. The culprit made a run for it and is watching tv." He says, making a face. "Little-"
"Silly bean."
"Silly bean?" he questions, laughing.
Robert peels off his top, sighing. Dawn glances over at him. "Gross. Dad. Put on a shirt. You look like those guys in the magazines."
Well, he certainly does not feel old now. Thank you very much.
"Dawn, you have just become my new favourite child." He grins at her as she stands. Robert walls over to her and pulls her in for a fatherly hug. "And yes, they are very disgusting."
"I know they are."
"Please never grow up." He says, smelling her hair affectionately. "Men are icky."
"Dad. Your abs are sticking to my face." She whines.
"Sorry," he murmurs, releasing her. "Why do you even know what abs are?"
"Dad," she sighs. "I'm ten. Not invalid."
"Stop using big words," Robert whines. "Your still my little girl. I love you."
She smiles up at him, finally taking her eyes away from her phone. "I love you too. Forever and beyond."
He hugs her again. Just because he can and she is so grown up. But still his little girl. His little princes. "Forever and beyond." He whispers back, kissing her head.
When Dawn leaves the room, Dave runs over to Robert suddenly, holding up his little fists. Robert smiles down at him. "Oh, look who we have here. It's Dave Foster: The Overtaker."
"No daddy. It's The undertaker."
"But you can't have that name. That would be copy right."
"Okay." He sighs, getting into his fighting stance again. "I can win a fight against you daddy. I have more arm muscles than you." He holds up his arm, flexing his little bicep. Nothing moves, but he seems delighted with it. Dave pouts. "But, you have more tummy muscles than me. So..." He pulls up his top, his little belly poking out.
"Well," Robert tuts, pokes the skin, listens to his son giggle. "You can't win a fight until you have tummy muscles."
Unexpectedly, Dave pulls his hand back and punches Robert as hard as he can in the crotch.
He drops to the floor like a rock, ribs groaning again. "Or you can do that."
.
.
.
Long chapter. Not really but they will probably be around this length from now on.
Cute little family.
What do you think?
I know it was crap but it's just the beginning. Soon enough there will be lots of 'action.'
This is just the build up.
*smirks*
Please leave me feedback.
Vote and comment.
Thank you.
~ MrsDowney. :)