Adorable Adoption

Chappy 6

I stare at him, lips parted. Why did he want to?

I almost ask him, but his eyes widen as he takes out the bulky communication device.

"What is it?" I ask, my stomach dropping at his expression.

He leaves the room without answering my question, and without me.

"Blair!" I yell. "What is it!" I'm close to tears now, knowing what it could be. What it probably is.

After a few minutes of being alone the tears overpower me, flowing down my cheeks. What the hell is going on?

When Blair comes back to me, he still looks worried, but not as. He sees me crying in the highchair and rushes to me. He cradles me and begins rocking.

"I'm sorry," he says gently.

"What was that?" I ask again, voice cracking.

"It doesn't matter, we're okay."

"Are you sure? You looked worried," I say, sniffling.

"I'm sure. Now let's get you to your crib."

"Okay."

Blair stays with me, comforting me until I'm able to sleep. I don't sleep for long. I'm woken up by yelling. Panic flows through me like a river, making my hands tingle. I've never heard Blair yell before.

"B-blair!" I call out, and I get no response.

I don't try to leave the crib, last time didn't work out too well. Instead I hold onto Rex and squeeze him tightly. I just want all the bad things to go away.

"BLAIR!" I yell loudly, and this time he responds.

"A couple more minutes, little one!" He shouts from somewhere else in the ship.

I count to sixy two times, and he still doesn't show up. I count to sixty so many times I lose count, impatient. I consider trying to get out of the crib again. It will be worth getting hurt if
He explains what the fuck is going on.

Just as I stand up the doors slide open, and there he is.

"Everything is going to be fine," he says, but his expression betrays his words.

"Is It? Blair, I'm scared, I just want to go home. I want to go back to earth and have everything back the way it is," I start sobbing again, and I give a frustrated scream. "And I keep fucking crying!"

"No swearing," is all he says as he lifts me from the crib. Anger consumes me from those two words.

"Fuck that rule! I'm going to swear if I want to! Fuck you and all the shit you stand for!"

"I know you are upset, so I will let this slide, but you better behave," he warns me, and I laugh, unamused.

"Fuck you! No! I won't behave! It's not like your going to do anything, right?! You're just going to put me on a stupid ads stool!" I'm screaming at him now.

"I warned you," he tells me, and I laugh again.

"Oh no, a fucking stool!" But he doesn't sit me down on the stool.

He carries me out the room, grabs a chair and goes back to the room, and grabs something from a drawer. He sits down with me, and I'm confused until he puts me on my stomach on his legs. He wouldn't. Right?

"No! Fuck you!" I yell again, and I feel a sharp sting on my ass that's accompanied with an unpleasant noise. I yell out with surprise and pain.

"Little boys are supposed to behave," he says, and he spanks me again, harder.

"What the fuck is-" and again, even harder, making me cry out.

"Stop!" I yell, but he doesn't.

He keeps going, sometimes saying something along the lines of "you need to follow the rules," or "you should always listen to me."

When I'm a sobbing mess, my hair in knots, and my ass burning, he finally stops. He sits me up on his lap, and I wince a bit.

"What have you learned?" He asks.

"To n-not swear," I say through my tears, hiccuping.

"And?"

"And to a-always listen to you?" I question, and he nods.

"That's a good boy," he tells me, and starts stroking my long hair.

With nothing else to hold on to, I cling to his shirt and sniffle. He runs my back and starts rocking back and forth until I've calmed down.

"I'm sorry," I say, somewhat reluctantly, but I know I should.

"Its alright, just don't do it again." He says, and I nod.

"What would you like to do now?" He asks and I shrug.

"Know what's going on?" I try, but he shakes his head. "Then I dunno."

"You think on that, then, and I'll go get something for you to drink," he starts to put me down, but I keep clinging to his shirt.

"No! Don't leave me alone," I whimper, and I feel weak.

"Okay, I won't."

He carries me to the kitchen and puts Orange juice in a pj masks sippy cup. He hands it to me and I immediatly start drinking from it.

"What do you say?" He asks, and I give him a look.

He pats my butt lightly, reminding me to behave, and I say "Thank you."

He nods appreciativly be for setting me down in my play pin.

"What do you want to play with, little one?"

I point to the book shelf, not wanting to talk to him right now.

"Use your words," he tells me and I pout. "If you don't tell me, I guess you'll just have to go back to sleep," he warns.

"Book" I say simply, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Which one?" He asks.

"Treehouse."

"Alright," he sighs and gets up to get one of the books.

When he sits down again, I reach up and make grabbing motions with my hands. "Book!"

"Oh, no. Your much too small to read this all by yourself," he says, there it is. The feeling of being cared for. I hate how calming it is to hear those words, to feel like this again.

He starts reading it, and I cant help but smile once I realize he picked the dinasour one.