Work Text:
“Dickie!”
Talon
Dickie looks up as Jason and Tim run into the room. Jason is carrying a small bag, crinkly and full of something orange. They look like the earplugs Dickie sometimes wears when things are too loud. Are these earplugs for giant Talons? His eyes widen at the thought of a Talon big enough to wear these.
Jason falls onto the couch beside Dickie, smiling so big and excited. “Since you’ve been doing such a good job with eating lately, Alfred said you can have a treat!”
Dickie vaguely knows what treats are, but he isn’t sure he has ever had one. He especially isn’t sure what giant earplugs have to do with treats. Maybe the treat is loud?
Plastic crackles as Jason rips open the bag. “These are called circus peanuts.”
Dickie blinks. They have talked about the circus before. He does not remember it very well, just the warm-gentle-flying Masters and the rough gray which didn’t feel like the Zitka that is in his lap. He thinks he liked the circus, though. He is learning how to like things. Tim has been helping him with that. Grandmaster Bruce says Dickie used to like things Before he was a Talon, so Dickie should learn how to like them again, or to like new things.
Dickie has made a list of things he likes. He does not want to forget again. Dickie likes Zitka. He likes Tim and Jason and Alfred and Grandmaster Bruce, even when Tim and Jason are loud. He likes warm and soft. He likes flying.
Jason holds out the bag, and Tim takes out one of the orange things.
“Dickie, do you want one of your own,” Tim asks, “or do you want to share one with me?”
Dickie squeezes Zitka’s foot, considering. He knows he is allowed to want things now, but he is not always certain what he is supposed to want. Are the
earplugs
circus peanuts the treat? Treats are something special, so Tim probably wants one all by himself. But Dickie does not know if he will like the treat.
Circus things should not hurt, right? He doesn’t know “peanuts” but he thinks he likes circus things. Zitka is a circus thing.
Jason and Tim are waiting for him to answer. Dickie squeezes Zitka’s foot again and unfreezes his mouth. “Dickie wants one.”
Apparently this is the right thing to want, because Jason grins and shakes the bag a little, making it easier for Dickie to take one of the circus peanuts out of the bag. “Help yourself, kiddo. I’ll have one, too.”
Jason sets the half-empty bag on the coffee table and bites his circus peanut in half. Tim also takes a bite, much smaller than Jason’s. The circus peanuts must be the treat, then.
They are soft like beds, not like Zitka, and smooth and bumpy at the same time. They are very orange. A good orange. Dickie nibbles one end of the circus peanut.
Soft melts across his tongue like sunshine. Dickie’s eyes widen, and he takes another bite, bigger this time. Sweet. Some of the foods he’s eaten are a little sweet, like the berries that Alfred gives him, but not like this. It tastes nothing like the circus but also feels just like the circus. There was something else sweet, Before, something soft but crunchy, hot in his fingers. Something the warm-gentle-flying Masters would let him have when he was good. He had forgotten that. He had forgotten about sweet.
“Whatcha think, Dickiebird?” Jason’s voice barely filtered through the haze of warm-nice-good-happy.
Dickie swallowed, clearing his mouth. The haze lingered. “Dickie likes circus peanuts.”
Jason cheers; not as loud as sometimes. “We did good, huh? You liked it. Just wait ‘til you try chocolate!”
Tim’s smile was quick and gentle. “I’m proud of you, Dickie. Good job using your words.”
Dickie takes another bite, sinking back against the couch. Tim and Jason are warm on either side of him. The sweet is good on his tongue. Zitka is soft in his lap, and against his hand.
Dickie thinks he is happy he is here. He thinks he likes being Dickie.