A/N: I wrote this awhile ago, and forgot about it. I actually like the idea of parental!Cross, so I decided to experiment with it. Thanks for taking the time to read it.
Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray Man in any way, shape, or form.
Lesson 01
Introductions
Green eyes behind wire-framed glasses looked down at the small figure curled on the bed slightly annoyed and disgusted at the same time. Cross wanted nothing to do with the child currently taking up his bed, and had been since he was put in the older man's care. But he was more or less forced to having found the boy sobbing over his foster father's mutilated body on a cold December night. Like the somewhat decent person he was, Cross had called 911 and offered to hang around the child after filling out a witness report to the police. Apparently the boy's name was currently Allen Walker, it was originally something else, but he had it changed when he was brought into the care of Mana Walker which so happened to be one of Cross's old friends. Mana was killed in a hit and run accident, and poor Allen was emotionally traumatized by it.
A month after the accident, Cross had become Allen's new legal guardian all through heavy convincing, and possible threatening by some people. Cross was young by his standards anyway, only thirty-two years old, and of course had no idea how to raise a child. Especially one that does nothing but sit all day and even pisses on the bed because he doesn't move; the red haired man was getting tired of cleaning sheets every day. He was this close to putting the child in a diaper.
Sighing for the umpteenth time that evening, Cross lit another cigarette and took a long drag out of it. "Give him time they said. He'll be better soon they said." He grumbled softly and blew the smoke out the window. He didn't know why he chose to sit in the chair by the kid every day, maybe he was secretly hoping there would be a change in his behavior soon, or maybe he would fall over dead and he wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. Okay, scratch the last part, he didn't want to explain to the police how and why the kid just fell over dead one day, it could ruin his reputation.
"You know what kid?" he began, knowing by now he would get no response, the child was basically mute. "You'd make my life a whole lot easier if you did something. That way, the social workers will get off my fucking back about you. But you don't, so what the fuck ever do what you want."
He was about to get up and walk away when he swore he heard the kid speak. "Did you say something?"
"Allen." It was voice barely there, soft and hoarse from lack of use besides screaming. "My name's Allen not kid." Now he was staring directly at Cross, bandage covering half his face from where he got injured. They were able to save his eye, but he would have a nasty scar there, it would be the same for his arm as well.
"Well the Allen maybe I'll acknowledge that if you get your ass out of my bed."
Allen just stared, like he was trying to comprehend what was just said. Whatever trance he was in before seemed to be broken. His eyes didn't seem dull and lifeless, but they did look incredibly sad, but at least that was an emotion. And he continued to stare for a long time, at least it felt like a long time to Cross. It was making him feel awkward, like he'd ever admit that out loud though.
"Look kid, are you going to get out the bed or not?"
Allen blinked and looked at his legs, "My legs hurt."
"Of course they hurt. You've barely moved out of that position for like a month." He felt a headache coming on. "Look, do you want to get out the bed or not?"
There was no reply, almost like he was debating whether or not it was safe. Having enough of that, Cross got up and lifted the incredibly light child by the waist and stalked out of the room. Now that he was getting reactions out of the kid; he was not going to let the opportunity go to waste. Allen made now sound or motion of resistance at the sudden change in situation, instead he just sprawled limply in the older man's grip all the way to the bathroom. He didn't even flinch when Cross deposited him on the counter of the bathroom sink.
"Alright here's the plan, I hope you know how to bathe yourself because I'm not doing it anymore, after that you are going to eat whether you like my cooking or not, and then I'm taking you over to the hospital so they can do shit about your bandages." Cross didn't seem like he would take no for an answer, though Allen was back to being unresponsive, probably trying to make sense of what's going on.
Rolling his eyes, Cross started the bath without another word and took the child off the counter. He walked back into the room muttering something about 'idiot children' and was back a few minutes later, his arm full with bundles of fabric. From the pile, he pulled out a towel which he threw on the back of the toilet along with some clothes, and he threw the washcloth in the tub of water.
"Alright brat," Cross turned and looked down at Allen, god this kid was short. "You take a bath and all that good shit; I on the other hand will cook."
Once again, Allen said nothing; instead he started shedding off his clothes. Cross narrowed his eyes and walked out the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He wondered if that kid had any shame, but decided not to worry about it. He would learn sooner or later. Now it was time to start cooking.
This man, despite being thirty-two, had no idea how to cook. He'd usually order Chinese or get a pizza, but that had to change. Grumbling, he looked around the kitchen for a something and finally he found it, grits. And they were microwavable, that was an added bonus. Giving no fucks about measurements, he poured everything in a bowl and had it on for twenty minutes. He felt very proud with himself, even when he heard the mess blow up in the microwave a few times. Oh well, at least it's edible.
By the time the food was ready, Allen had walked out of the bathroom dressed in a too big long sleeved white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Cross really misjudged this kid's small size. The tiny child pulled himself up into a chair at the table.
"Food's done." The elder said and deposited the bowl of food along with a fork in front of the boy.
All just stared at the bubbling mess, and tentatively ate a spoonful. Seconds later, he spit back out into the bowl.
"What the hell brat?" the red haired man questioned. Who could spit out his gourmet meal?
"It's really gross." Allen said simply and plopped out of the seat. "They're too gritty, even for grits, plus you didn't add any seasoning." He continued in an apathetic voice while taking the bowl into the kitchen. "These things are beyond saving." With that, he dumped the slop into the garbage.
"Fuck you brat." Cross grabbed Allen by his shirt collar and threw him over his shoulder. "You can starve for all I fucking care. Since meal time is a no-go, off to the hospital it is."
Once again, Allen made no move of resistance as he was lugged out the door.
A/N: Thank you for reading the very first chapter. Like I said, I really like this idea, so I hope to continue with it. This chapter was kind of short, mostly because it was mainly focused on introductions.
More character will be introduced, but it mainly focuses on Allen and Cross. Also, Allen is ten, he should be turning nine soon.
Feedback is appreciated, and thanks again.