#but you can hardly blame me (or brOC) for wanting to give the kid a hug can you????

[kolbietheaggrievedwriter]

Someone has written their own take on a BrOC (which you should check out!), and it reminded me of my first iteration of jumpstart, where I initially thrust our OC into Bro eight years before canon. I prefer the current plot, especially bc I absolutely do not know how to write a 5 year old. But it's a fun little idea.

-

You allow your head to thunk onto the counter. The pain barely registers through your panic. You've been denying the possibility the moment you woke up and discovered that you had switched both locations and bodies overnight, but it's been half an hour. Nothing's changed. It's not a dream. Your name is (probably) Dirk Strider, and you are absolutely, undeniably fucked.

"Bro?" And that's a kid calling out to you, jesus christ.

You don't want to look up. You don't want to acknowledge the reality of your situation. But there's a kid involved, and you could never put your own discomfort above the wellbeing of a child. Besides, you have a pretty good idea who that kid is, and he definitely doesn't deserve to have his (probable) guardian ignore him.

You lift your head and get your first good look at the real life version of Dave motherfucking Strider. He's tiny, is your first thought. Itty bitty. He can't be older than four or five. He's also wearing tiny duplicates of the cringe shades you haven't had the courage to actually put on your face without dying of embarrassment, and he's fucking adorable. What the hell. Why can a kid pull off those dumbass shades better than you?

Probably because kids can make anything look cute, but a grown ass man would just look like some weeaboo dipshit.

"Sup, li'l man," is what comes out when you open your mouth to answer him. What the fuck. Is Bro, like…still inside you? Well, he can just get fucked then. You're in charge now. 

Dave approaches you slowly, cautiously, like he's going to get in trouble if he gets too close. "Sup," he says, pushing his shades back up when they slide down. 

"How old are you now?" You ask, monotone, which is weird as fuck because you're not particularly trying to not emote, but you figure this body has been programmed to do this shit for, what - twenty something years now? People say habits are hard to break for a reason. 

Dave apparently doesn't think anything of your question because he doesn't hesitate to answer. "I'm five," he says, drifting closer to you almost like he can't help himself, even despite his wariness. "It's my birthday," he adds, aiming for the same monotone shtick you've got going on but missing by a mile. He's obviously hoping for something, and you bet those big eyes are shining with fragile expectation behind the mini shades.

"Five," you say, contemplative, as an idea strikes. You're not going to abuse a small child, so sticking to the script is a no go. Might as well go completely off the rails and do things your way. "That's a big milestone for a li'l dude. Now that you've made it five whole years, I think it's about time you were officially designated as my li'l bro."

"Li'l bro?" Dave parrots, curious but trying not to seem so. The shades slip again. He pushes them back up.

"Yup. You're my bro now, so things between us are gonna change a bit. No more acting like we're too cool for school around each other, alright? That shit's for other people. We don't front in front of each other.  Striders stick together," you give him a bullshit explanation and hope he buys it. Otherwise, you're not sure how to explain your abrupt change in behavior. "You good with that?" You ask, making sure it's actually a question.

"I'm good," Dave says, though he looks confused. This is probably the most he's ever heard his "Bro" speak, and you are being pretty vague.

You turn, crouch, and open your arms. "First things first: hugs. Bros hug any time they feel like, but they get a special one on their birthday. It's tradition." Or it will be, anyway. Humans need physical affection and kids even more so. You, for your part, fucking love hugs. You're not about to let your kid (Oh fuck, he's your kid!!!) be deprived of such a pivotal human experience any longer.

Dave looks surprised, and he takes his sweet time walking over and getting up in your space, pausing every now and then like he's waiting for you to change your mind - or more likely, say it was a "test" and that Dave had failed or something. But you maintain your position, and your intent expression lets him know you are dead serious about this.