Adorable Adoption

Chappy 5

After the conversion I had with Blair, I find myself not resisting as much. Now, I tend to just go along with it. I still refuse to like him, or think of him as good, I just hate him less.

I'm reading magic tree house again when the door slides open.

"Hello, little one."

"Hey," I respond, scrunching my nose at the nickname.

"Do you want to go into your playpin?" He asks, and I shake my head.

"Why do you act like your in charge when we're practically the same?" I ask suddenly, an edge to my voice.

This question has been on my mind for a while now. It makes no since how he gets to control me while he's almost the same thing as me.

"In charge of ship," he tells me, and I cross my arms over Rex.

"Yeah, but what if I just didn't do what you told me to? What would happen then?"

"Time out," is his ever simple answer, and I give an exasperated sigh.

"Never mind," I say, exasperated.

He picks me up, and I look at him questionably. "Playtime," is what he says in response.

"But I said I don't wanna," I whine at him as I see where he's going to put me.

"Your grumpy. Need to," he says, and I glare at him as he sets me down in the tall play pin.I cross my arms and pout. I said I don't want to, so I won't. I jump a little at the sight of his unexpected hand, pushing some lego blocks towards me.

I try - and fail - to suppress a grin. These were my favorite as a kid. I completely forget about my strike, and pick up some of the colorful bricks.

I stick random legos together, just enjoying the feeling of sticking them together and unsticking them.

I look up when I hear a chuckle. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just you," he says, and my face heats up.

I look down, covering my face with my hair. A question coming to me, I look up again.

"Can I get a haircut?" I ask, and he looks confused.

"Why?"

"I don't like it long. So can I?" I start to play absentmindedly with Rex's small arms.

"No," he states. "You look cute."

"What! But I want it short!" I yell. "I don't want it long!"

"Does somebody need a nap?" He asks.

"No!" I snarl at him, then when I realize that's exactly what he would classify as behavior of someone needing a nap, I repeat it in a softer tone. "No."

"Okay. But no more tantrums today, you seem to have a temper."

Speaking of that temper, it flares at his words. He expects me to be calm? I almost start yelling again, but decide against it.

I glare at the legos, and push them away. "I'm done with playtime," I grumble.

"Your going to have to speak up for me, what was that?" He responds, and I roll my eyes behind the curtain I had made with my hair. Maybe it did have a good use.

"I'm done with playtime," I grumble again, louder this time.

"It hasn't been that long, are you sure, little one?" He asks.

"Yes!" I say sharply, then "and stop calling me that, I'm not little."

"Of course you are. Does Mr. Grumps want some food then?" He teases, and instead of anger, I feel something else, something odd.

Slowly, I sink into the feeling, not knowing what it is, only that it's comforting and relieving.

I nod, answering his question.

He hums as he picks me up, and I recognize it as the song he sang me to sleep with once. My face burns at the memories, and I hide it with my hands as he walks into the dining room.

"What will it be today?" He asks, sitting me in the highchair.

"I dunno," I say, and I'm surprised my tone has only curiosity, and even more so that that's what I actually felt.

I swing my legs back and forth, liking how the cool air feels on my legs. Today I'm in a red onesie lined blue, matched with a blue pacifier clip and a yellow pacifier. The primary colors.

I smile down at my clothing, liking how snug I am. The odd feeling still with me.

I jump when a pink bowl of what looks like tomato soup is set in front of me with a matching spoon.

"Yay!" I say, then blush fiercely.

Blair smiles fondly at me before asking "juice?"

I nod at him, still blushing.

"Use your words, little one," he says, making me sink deeper into the pleasant feeling.

"Yes," I say brightly, and he cocks his head slightly to the side. "Please."

"Good," he praises and my eyes squint closed in the smile I give him.

He sets a sippy cup of primary colors in front of me. I realize that the pleasant feeling reminds me of how I felt as a child. Avoiding that thought, I take the sippy cup and take a drink. Apple juice.

While trying to eat the soup, I spill some on my red onesie. I look down at the tomato, color slightly off from the dyed fabric. I pout at the stain, then look back up to Blair.

He smiles down at me before getting a yellow cloth from a drawer. It's not until he puts it around my neck that I figure out that it's a bib. I shake my head and try to take it off.

"Do you want more stains?" He asks gently with a scolding undertone.

Shaking my head I pick up my spoon again, immediatly spilling more tomato soup on the bib. I slam the spoon down and cross my arms.

"I keep spilling!" I say angrily, and he picks up the spoon.When he lifts the spoon to my lips, I blush again, and shake my head. I try to steal the spoon back, but he lifts it out of my reach.

"No," he says, bringing it to my mouth again.

I move my head to the side, and he grabs my chin, forcing me to face him, and the held spoon. I open my mouth to protest, but he sticks the spoon in my mouth.

I swallow the mouth full of soup, and try to argue again, but he keeps putting a spoonful of soup in my mouth.

I stop trying to argue, and let him feed me. After the soup is eaten, I take a drink of my apple juice and speak up.

"You didn't have to feed me," I mumble.

"I wanted to."