"Once upon a time, there was a idiotic, stupid little boy who lived with his wonderful, charming, handsome and most amazing, unbeatable master and his golem. One night, the boy wouldn't go to sleep and kept telling his master to tell him a bedtime story. The master became annoyed and the boy was never seen again. The end. Moral of story? Get the fuck off me or you'll become the boy in the story, understand?"
Huge gray innocent eyes stared owlishly back at Cross who felt his irritation waver in the face of pure undiluted cuteness that was his life's bane in the form of one baby Allen Walker.
Those eyes blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Then Allen cheered happily, letting go of his deadlock on Cross's sleeve to bring his chubby baby palms together to clap.
Cross took it as an answer of no, he didn't understand.
At all.
"Yay!" he squealed, "More, more!" He chanted in his little baby squeal that made Cross doubt the child's gender yet again. Because seriously, if Allen had longer hair he would be a certified girl for sure.
"More!" He tugged lightly at his red-haired master's sleeve who scowled at him.
"Get off me you little brat!" Cross growled and yanked his sleeve away from the child. Seeing as the kid wasn't relenting, he yanked harder, hoping Allen would actually use his kiddy brain and realise that no, Cross didn't want to tell him another fucking bedtime story. If that didn't discourage him, then Cross would have no choice but to resort to using his final, ultimate weapon that always worked.
But he really didn't want to use the final ultimate weapon because he wasn't in the mood - not that he ever was, mind you - to spend hours trying to get a baby to stop crying, which was harder than it sounded and Cross had, in the few days he had been taking care of Allen, developed a newfound respect for all those mothers out there who had to do the same thing.
Even if Allen would forget about the bedtime story at the end of all the fussing and crying and goddamn wailing, it wasn't worth it; he would just promptly fall asleep in a puddle of tears leaving Cross to clean it all up. Which he would prefer not to happen. Ever.
And so Cross Marian took a deep, calming breath, waited a few seconds and then let it out slowly. He was going to resolve this issue calmly and composedly like the genius he was. There would be no use of the final ultimate weapon because if he could kills hundreds of Akuma without having to catch his breath and stay hidden for years on end from the Black Order and the Earl and his platoon of crazy, he could take care of a small baby, no problem. No problem at all.
He took it all back.
Cross was proud to say that ever since he found the boy, his patience had improved drastically so that it took exactly one minute and twenty-eight seconds (a new record!) of whining, pleading and sleeve-pulling before he had enough.
Which, he dwelled on later, was an improvement. He lasted one minutes and twenty-six seconds longer than he would have before.
Anyway, back to the present.
He took another deep breath, mentally cursing every god he knew (and he knew a lot) before he braced his shoulders for the crying and sobbing that was sure to come. Then he opened his eyes and gave his best fuck-off-before-I-murder-you glare.
The glare that had bulky, strong men who could lift twenty cows pissing their pants and running away. It scared the living daylights out of, well, the living. Even akumas cowered under the unyielding force of his steel glare.
His final, ultimate weapon.
Which Allen apparently had seen so many times, he was immune to it.
And so Allen, being the innocent little child he was apparently took that as an invitation to launch himself off his bed and pounce on the unsuspecting Cross's head, nearly squashing Timcanpy who just managed to dart away in time as the golem's spot on his master's head was claimed by the energetic white-haired child.
"Yippee!" Allen shouted joyfully as he landed, white tufts of hair sticking up everywhere as he scrambled to steady himself, short little legs wiggling midair.
"Arrrgh!" Yelped (in a manly way) Cross as he was suddenly assaulted by a tiny baby who could barely reached his knee.
"…" Meanwhile, Timcanpy hovered midair, flapping his golden wings, and watched the scene in interest (while recording it for further blackmail purposes).
Cross staggered around wildly, knocking over various tables in an attempt to balance himself while Allen grabbed fistfuls of his hair and giggled happily as he sat upon his master's head.
"Master is so clumsy!" Allen declared upon his perch as another table was knocked over along with some ancient chair that was probably going to fall apart anyway.
"The hell?" Snarled said perch, pushing Allen's foot away from his eye, "And who's fucking fault is it?" he growled angrily and promptly crashed into a wall.
Ouch.
Cross landed on his back with a heavy thud, cursed gravity out loud and had a moment of internal panic of shit where the hell is that kid? if he falls he might break something before his object of panic crash-landed into his stomach with heavy "Whumph!".
Cross had been sitting up when Allen crashed into him and the impact knocked him flat on his back again, hitting his head with a large whack. The pain in his head combined with his stomach made him light-headed and he felt a surge of anger rise up.
"Enough!" he snapped, pushing Allen off his middle and onto the floor roughly, "Get the fuck off me you little good-for-nothing brat!"
Allen sat back up and stared at him, looking at him pitifully with wide grey eyes. Then his lower lip started to quiver and his tiny frame shook as he tried desperately to hold back tears. Cross stared at the quivering child across of him. Well, shit.
"Allen...," he started, trying to make his tone sound comforting and reassuring. Which, apparently wasn't very comforting or reassuring because that one word was all it took to make the young child burst into tears.
Sighing in defeat, Cross gave up and opened his arms. "All right, you little brat, come on then."
Allen brightened up like the star on a Christmas tree and smiled happily, dried tears still staining his cheeks and clambered clumsily into his guardian's lap.
"Story!" He demanded, lips curled in a pout as he settled himself comfortably, tugging at a lock of red hair. "Tell me story!"
Cross sighed deeply (he'd been doing that a lot lately, but then again he couldn't drink with a child around) wondering since when, he, one of the most powerful Exorcists and a well-known general had become a softie who told bedtime stories to annoying brats.
"Alright," he sighed again, resting one hand on Allen's head of white locks, ruffling it affectionately, "Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Allen..."
This is my first -man fanfiction and I hoped you like it.
Written because there are too little fanfictions out there with Cross and Allen as a family and I'm tired of people always thinking Cross is a heartless bastard who doesn't give a shit about anyone when he actually cares.
Disclaimer: I don't own -man, Hoshino Katsura does.