(Casually a dabble exploring a little bit of Neegan. PWP nonsense because hahahahaha that's me)
"Alright kid, keep your fuckin' fussin' down."
Nothing like a hot, fresh bowl of screaming, upset child in the morning. When his ex mate called and said it was an emergency....this is not what he wanted. Or expected. He's already tried to run away from this responsibility before, but now he's stuck, once again, with an infant he hoped was dead on arrival.
And little Jamie Harris was.
Stillborn. The idea that his little mistake would stay that way kept him comfort. And then the little shit started to cough, started to move, and next thing Neegan knew was he was shacked with this thing, this creature dependent on his mother and on him. How the hell was he supposed to know this could happen? He's been sterile for years. Then along comes a human dragging him down a rabbit hole of partying and ecstasy, only to call him nine months later to scream that she was dying.
But everything went smoothly. Blood loss, yes. An abomination, yes.
Stuck with a toothless offspring, yes.
He's only watching him for the day, she said, before he can fuck off. And he plans to. Maybe he feels like he owes her a favor, this is his fault, after all, assuring her he absolutely can not get her pregnant, only to be proven wrong. Neegan likes kids. But his own...it's just so odd. He doesn't know how to feel about the teething mess currently clinging to him. He was shocked li'l J didn't scream when he held him the first time. Instead, his son just stared at him with wide blue eyes, gave him a smile, and returned to chewing on his toy keys. But now his son is crying, and he has no idea what to do.
"What the fuck do you eat?" Besides breast milk, and even if it's to soothe, there's no way Neegan is attaching that thing to himself. As the boy continues to wail, Neegan furiously knocks things out of cabinets with one hand, frustrated. Baby food is puree. Why the fuck does his ex only have soup? The fuck can he do with soup.
"Do you eat soup?" He asks his child before realizing just how stupid that was. "Food. Food. People food. Foo- Ah," finally, an opened jar is resealed in the fridge. He sets the crying boy in a high seat and sighs, ears just about bleeding. James seems to be distracted with something, a toy, maybe. Neegan sighs softly as the crying finally turns to sniffles as he gets food prepared, dragging a chair over and sitting in it dad style, back to his front. Opening the can, he uses a small spoon coated in a thin cap of rubber to spoon some out.
"This is fucking demeaning," he mumbles, realizing how far he's fallen. Here he is, feeding a monstrosity he's made like a doting, domesticated parent. On one hand, he feels utterly humiliated. On the other...
On the other he's noticed little teeth already poking out of his son's gums. Sharp ones. Little indents are left on the rubber and Neegan takes a moment to gently run his fingers over the little holes. James is happy again, playing with his toy and opening his mouth as an invitation for Neegan to feed him again. He has to admit, the kid is cute. And he does look like him. Maybe not exactly...but there's something there. Something in his eyes, maybe. The old Pureblood's never noticed just how pretty they are.
Realizing he's stared too long, Neegan clears his throat, placing another spoonful in his child's mouth. He doesn't understand what he's feeling. Is it a paternal instinct? A need to protect his child? Then why is it making him want to run? A million things are rushing into his head, giving him a massive headache and making him nearly hiss in frustration.
"You couldn't have just...not existed, huh kiddo?" He asks once James is done eating, as if he expects the child to answer. "I don't know to to feel about you. At all. I wanna...I wanna do something, maybe CARE but the cards aren't in the deck," he sighs. "and you're only gonna hate me when you find me again..."
Seems like he's made up his mind.
"Don't grow up to be a piece of shit like me."
"What?" James looks over at his father as he finishes burying the body of a rabid ghoul, taking a moment to dig his shovel into the ground to finally take a minute to rest.
"Wha? Nothin', Kiddo. I said nothing."
"Whatever," the Dhampir grabs his shovel. "You know, the more mistakes you make like this, the less likely I'm gonna be able to help you in the future, you know that right?
"Yeah, I know that."
"Good," deciding they're done, James turns on his heel back to his car. "You coming?"
"Yeah, son. I'm coming."