AN: This was a story I wrote for a concept of the Robotech series I want to eventually write, when I get through all the bunnies in my head. Roy and Rick's childhood together is never really discussed much and so I am playing around with it. Enjoy!
Roy Fokker stared at the wiggling bundle in the carrier in front of him with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination.
"Oh, isn't he just PRECIOUS!" His mother Sandy breathed as she reached to unwrap what Roy assumed was the top of the now mewling pile of cloth. He could just see inside a tuft of silky black strands sticking straight out.
"He's got Mitch's looks all over him," Aunt Delia beamed proudly, as she tipped the carrier up, allowing for better access to the 'thing'. Sandy Fokker nodded, reaching in, and pulling the object out of its protective hatch, wrapping her arms around it with an adoring look.
"And he's named Richard," Sandy asked as her eyes turned suddenly gooey, and a broad, warm smile light up her face. Roy found he was vaguely sick at the look of it, and instead turned his attention to the men outside. Mitch "Pop" Hunter was sitting on the front porch of the Hunter family's house, along with his older brother, Uncle Joe, and several of the men from the Hunter Bros. Flying Circus. Roy would rather be outside with them, talking about planes and flying. Instead, he got shooed inside with his mother to look at...the baby.
"Yes, Richard after Mitch and Joe's dad, and Benjamin, after my grandfather," Aunt Delia nodded, "All proud pilots like everyone else. He probably will be too!"
Roy raised doubtful eyes to the impossibly swathed thing in Sandy Fokker's arms. He couldn't believe something like that would ever make a world-class pilot, not the kind of pilot HE was going to be someday.
"What do you think of him, Roy," Sandy looked at her only son, her neat strawberry-blonde ponytail just coming into the reach of one tiny hand that seemed to wrap itself into the stuff. Roy imagined it was like an alien tentacle, come to grab his mother and eat her brains out. Suddenly he had no desire to see what was inside the soft blue blankets.
"I guess he's all right," Roy shrugged, looking down at his feet. Babies, what did he know about them except that they cried all day and messed in stuff? Why did Pop and Aunt Delia need one of those? Didn't they say that he was just like having a son of their own?
"Oh, you haven't gotten to see him properly, come over here." Sandy jerked her head at him, and reluctantly he followed her non-verbal summons. His mother settled on the couch near where she stood, and Roy settled beside her, and with a deep breath looked inside his mother's arms to see what the whining lump was.
It was even less exciting than he thought. It was a small thing, impossibly tiny, with pinkish skin, and dark black hair that seemed to stick out everywhere. He didn't think babies had hair, but this one had almost as much as his own thatch of blonde hair, which currently was hanging in his eyes. As if reading his thoughts, his mother removed one hand from under the baby, and brushed the yellow tangle out of his face.
"Honestly Roy, how can you see him like that," she chided, then shifted the baby even close. Roy knew he'd have to oblige her. He leaned in to get an even better look. The thing had finally opened its eyes, a murky sort of blue gray, and was currently trying to shove its fist up its rather small nostril.
"Why is he so small," was the only thing Roy could think of. He felt dumb for saying it, everyone knew babies would grow.
"He'll get big soon enough," Aunt Delia said defensively, but smiled all the same at him. Roy was too young to understand first time mother's protectiveness of their babies.
"What do you think, Roy, you think you and Rick can grow to be friends someday?" Sandy looked down at her son, and Roy could only shrug. After all, this 'Richard' was only a baby, what good was he to Roy?