[ and he isn't ashamed to admit it. every day, he learns new things from his kids -- they inspire him to do better, to be better; that just because he's an adult doesn't mean he can slack off. and he learns just as much from frank, who had taught him dedication, persistence, of never giving up even when he's knocked down. frank had changed his life since the day david reached out to him, and he continues to do so with every passing day. even in a place like this.
but this isn't really about him and frank. he looks down when eddie holds out his hands, sees the scarring on his palms and his heart breaks a little. he takes them in his own larger grip, calloused at the fingers from days of tinkering with wires and machinery, but they're careful, gentle. he holds them with hands that have held tinier fingers and feet, hands that have changed diapers and rubbed little backs to soothe away nightmares; hands that have hauled his partner, his brother, out of a forest and back home. hands that have always held something precious, like they do now.
david doesn't know what brought eddie to him, maybe the same sort of strange magic or someone's twisted idea of starting this whole thing. but he gives eddie's hands a small squeeze and a softer, kinder smile. ]
no subject
Us adults are stupid too a lot of the time.
[ and he isn't ashamed to admit it. every day, he learns new things from his kids -- they inspire him to do better, to be better; that just because he's an adult doesn't mean he can slack off. and he learns just as much from frank, who had taught him dedication, persistence, of never giving up even when he's knocked down. frank had changed his life since the day david reached out to him, and he continues to do so with every passing day. even in a place like this.
but this isn't really about him and frank. he looks down when eddie holds out his hands, sees the scarring on his palms and his heart breaks a little. he takes them in his own larger grip, calloused at the fingers from days of tinkering with wires and machinery, but they're careful, gentle. he holds them with hands that have held tinier fingers and feet, hands that have changed diapers and rubbed little backs to soothe away nightmares; hands that have hauled his partner, his brother, out of a forest and back home. hands that have always held something precious, like they do now.
david doesn't know what brought eddie to him, maybe the same sort of strange magic or someone's twisted idea of starting this whole thing. but he gives eddie's hands a small squeeze and a softer, kinder smile. ]