Title: Find You Here (1/?)
Author: dreamerchaos
Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.
Rating: Mature overall.
Disclaimer: All recognizeable characters are owned by others than myself. I make no profit in writing this.
Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was human…). Gore.
"Don't look at me like that."
The tiny little prawn, no more than a few days old, burbled from the padded depths of the makeshift nest. Wikus curled uncomfortably tense in the corner opposite from the nest and his new guest.
"I'm not your papa, kid. So don't give me those puppy dog eyes."
It was too true. After six months, Wikus ―body shifted completely into the tall, gaunt form of Johannesburg's alien residents ― had had the odd luck of stumbling across the weak, mewling prawn hidden within the dried black shell of an egg, buried under a pile of black trash bags and strewn garbage.
After he brushed off the pieces of organic refuse, tossing aside the shriveled torn pieces of the matted trash bags, he stared at the tiny, little creature, the whimpering prawn's carapace still slick with the nutritious fluids of his egg casing.
Wikus didn't have the heart to lay the little prawn back down and leave him where he had been found...not after a tiny, weak little hand curled around his forefinger, the young, new life hanging on with the feeble remains of his draining strength.
Wikus had scurried back to his tiny shack, the little prawn tucked against his thin chest. His neighbor, William, clicked in question and concern at the degree of panic in Wikus' eyes ― William more commonly used to Wikus' disgust and terror such as last week when a hyena dared to shred open and gnaw through a bag of trash, or when the week after that the smaller prawn had groaned and heaved violently when several of the large prawns decided that the hyena was plump enough to their liking and ready to eat ― so the gray and black speckled prawn rose to his feet when Wikus rushed past him.
"What is it?" He follows, and snags the rim of the door before Wikus can slam the metal frame shut in his face.
"N-Nothing!" William does not believe the smaller prawn for a second.
Wikus' 'Nothing' chooses to wriggle within the smaller prawn's arms and trills up towards the larger stranger.
William tilts his head in consternation. "You…" He looks at Wikus meaningfully.
"He isn't mine!" Wikus interrupts, sensing the direction that the prawn was going. "I…I don't know where his parents are. I found him buried underneath some trash."
William hums, and gently brushes a finger across the tiny sprawn's brow. The little prawn shivers blissfully, "Either they are dead, or they chose to abandon their egg."
Wikus' voice froze within his throat at the dispassionate conclusion. He stutters for words, "…h-how could anyone just abandon their own child…"
"Good question." William's brow arches. "How can one listen and watch while a shack full of unborn eggs burns to the ground?" He counters. Here, Wikus wilts beneath his unmoving gaze, antenna lowered in shame.
"Life is cruel." William, so cruel in his kindness and honesty, but he claps the smaller prawn on the shoulder, "Perhaps they thought it would be better for their young one to never be brought into this world. What sort of life can he have here, in this cesspool?"
"Far better one than a brief, desperate struggle to breathe underneath the weight of filth and decay." Wikus growls, surprising William with his righteous indignation, the smaller prawn curled protectively around the young sprawn.
William allows a show of humor, chuckling softly at Wikus' fury. "You make a fine father." He compliments.
Wikus blinks suddenly. "W-What?" He looks down at the young sprawn, then up to William. Panic colors his voice, "N-No! I…I can't take care of him…I don't know the first thing about kids!" He tries to thrust the sprawn into William's arms, but the large prawn won't have anything to do with that.
"Then you shouldn't have brought him home with you." William clatters, brushing away Wikus' pleas, "He's already imprinted on to you. If you separate from him now, you'll surely kill him with your doubts and cowardice."
The sprawn whimpers plaintively, little fists waving in the air.
Immediately Wikus crawls over to the nest, calling himself every sort of weak coward for his compulsiveness to answer those tiny cries, only to backpedal and huddle in the farthest corner of the shack with his hands clapped over his ear canals.
"Shhh shhh." Wikus nuzzles the small sprawn, the little creature coos and curls against his chest in elation and relief when the large prawn answers his cries, "I'm sorry. Okay? I'll try. Really…I'll try to stop being an ass. Just…give me time, okay?"
The little sprawn isn't interested in his babble, noticeable by his soft purrs and clench, unclench of little hands upon Wikus' clavicles.
Wikus sighs in defeat, wrapping his longer, gaunt frame around the round pile of blankets. A soft hum of a song breaks the quiet of the shack interior, Wikus gently easing the young sprawn into slumber.
Lying there for hours, his curiosity soars ― his fear and hesitation a long dead breeze of ill memory ― Wikus is overwhelmed with the degree of sensory information. The older prawn silently marvels at the degree of infatuation that threatens to suffocate his very being. One hand running up and down the curl of the little sprawn's back, antennas dipped to brush and catalogue the scent mark, tentacles assimilating the scent molecules humming across the little sprawn's flesh.
The gentle hush of the young sprawn's breath and the stutter of his rising and falling chest lulls Wikus to close his eyes and join him in sleep, never mind that the sun had long since risen, and the rattle and hiss of his neighbors slowly fills the dirt-packed streets as they begin their daily morning scavenging for food, while Wikus and his young charge remain none the wiser.