#taddison

The sun has barely set - it's gone from the sky, but a vivid dusting of reds and oranges remains in its place. It's not quite enough to light the thick woods, but instead leaves them in a thin, dusky darkness. 

It is, in Addison's mind, the perfect time. The woods around his home are spectacularly alive - full of bird songs and frog calls and everything in between. It is also one of the best times for fishing - which is what finds him sat on a damp, muddy shore, line and a single foot both in the water. 

Every now and then, he hears the crunch of leaves or a snap of a stick from somewhere behind him. Addison had tried to introduce Trep to the concept of fishing - but the Impostor had found the activity entirely too passive. Addison had also tried telling Trep that he didn't have to come out just to be bored - but Trep had insisted, nonetheless. Whether he was being watchful, or just enjoyed being outside in some capacity, Addison couldn't be sure. 

He wasn't going to say no to the company, though. 

The sudden quiet is deafening, and as soon as Addison registers it he feels the hairs on his neck rise. It's stupid, he knows that logically - this is not a ship in space, besieged by others who could possibly equal Trep. This is earth, and the woods Addison grew up in, and a place in which Trep was by and far the most dangerous thing. 

Still, he can't shake the unease. So Addison stabs his fishing rod into the bank, gets to his feet, and turns to investigate. He bites his tongue, at first, with caution honed on dangerous journeys - but then Addison shakes his head with an internal scowl. 

Woods. Home. The biggest threat is Trep deciding it'd be fun to jump him from the quickly growing shadows. 

"Trep?" He calls, and he staunchly ignores the part of him that finches at the obvious echo of his own voice. 

"Over here."

Trep's voice - close and calm - is an instant balm. The anxiety that had been rapidly building in Addison dissipates almost as quickly, and in its place it leaves curiosity. He follows the voice, pushes through a clump of bushes and grass, and comes to a stop when he spots Trep standing in a small, partially overgrown clearing. 

The area is practically ablaze with fireflies. They pulse in alternating patterns that keep the encroaching darkness at bay. For Addison, it isn't a new sight - but that doesn't detract from the beauty of it. And even if he weren't awed by the fireflies themselves, there was no way he could have ignored Trep. 

The glow of the fireflies echoes off of Trep's skin, his hair - but most catchingly are his eyes. He is staring at the scene around him in something approaching wonderment, and the light glinting off his widened eyes makes them sparkle and dance and shine. He reaches a hand out towards a cluster of fireflies, watches them flit haphazardly away from his fingers. Addison can see Trep breathing - slow but shallow things. 

It's such a strange sight, so soft and unlike the bloodthirsty Impostor at its center. Addison finds himself taken in regardless - struck in place as heated adoration swells in his chest. It takes him a long moment to move again, but when he does he crosses over to Trep and stands just behind the Impostor. 

"They're like tiny stars," Trep says, a hush in his voice as if he's afraid to spook them. 

"Watch," Addison says. He steps slightly around Trep, then reaches out and carefully cups his hands around a firefly. He turns towards Trep, opens his hands, and watches as Trep's eyes follow the quickly fleeing bug. The Impostor is quick to mimic - he steps forward, his eyes seem to focus, and then he reaches out and manages to curl his hands carefully around a small handful of fireflies. 

Trep brings his hands to his face and carefully opens them - there is a brief burst of glow along the skin of his cheeks, and then the fireflies scatter away from him. His eyes dart quickly, hopping between each bug until they merge once more into the grand collection surrounding them both. 

"Beautiful," Trep says after a long second, eyes turned slightly up at a group of fireflies that climb high into the sky. 

Trep lets Addison live longer than is likely proper. The excuses are easy to come by - he's still healing, he's not at his prime, Trepper is clearly attached to the human - but eventually the excuses fall away, and Trep turns instead to not thinking about it. There is time yet, plenty of it in fact, before they get to Earth. There's no harm in letting the human live a little longer - especially as he's so willing to babysit in the meanwhile. 

Trep thinks he may even let Addison live until they very nearly land - at least, he considers it, right up until he realizes the bodies they feed on have turned. It's Trepper who clues him in - the whelp seems to pick up the subtle scent of rot first, and even he refuses to eat spoiled flesh. 

There are ways around it, of course. They can both live just fine off of the humans' meals - and now with so few mouths to feed, there are plenty of extra rations. MREs are not nearly so satisfying, though, and it's difficult to imagine living off of them when there remains fresh meat. 

Days tick by where they try it, anyway - but Trepper is unhappy and if Trep is honest he's not much better off himself. He grows hungry, and then ravenous, and it's not so much about the sustenance as it is about the sensations. There is nothing satisfying about badly packed, disgusting 'meat' that might make you sick if you're unlucky - it is nothing like hunting. Sinking teeth into fresh, still moving flesh. Ripping, tearing - it torments Trep. 

When it becomes too much, he decides he's had enough. There comes a night where Trep settles Trepper down as usual and then, once the child is deeply asleep, Trep slips away. 

He finds Addison quickly enough, of course, but he's not willing to give the game up so quickly. So, Trep hunts - he follows the human about as Addison finishes up a few wayward tasks. Trep slips through the vents, along the hallways, watches from corners. 

He can tell when Addison realizes something's wrong - whether it's because of Trep's absence or some human prey instinct. The man's pulse spikes, anxiety thickens the air - it makes Trep's blood pound in turn, his hearts speed in anticipation of the kill.

Trep makes his move as Addison strides in a quickened pace down the hallway to his quarters. The Impostor leaps from a nearby vent and lunges - he pins Addison to the wall, the human's front pressed to the metal, and keeps him trapped there with claws and tentacles and sheer strength. 

Wordlessly, Addison fights - and Trep is taken off guard by the human"s ferocity. It's not enough to move Trep, of course - he has already had his fun and now that his prey is caught, he isn't interested in playing around. He is stronger, by far, than Addison - and it is easy to keep the man pinned. Still, it's impressive just how much strength Addison brings to bear. 

Trep can't stop a slight curve in his lips as the human thrashes beneath him. 

"Get the fuck off of me," Addison finally finds his voice, and in response Trep hums. 

"Sorry Captain, no can do," he answers, even as he shifts a little closer, eyes finding the back of Addison's neck. "For what it's worth, you might be the only human I've ever really found pleasant to be around. Still, I'm starving - and unfortunately for you, you're the only meal left around."

"We had a deal," Addison spits. He kicks back with a leg, and Trep growls softly as it connects rather solidly with a knee. As if in retort, Trep's abdominal maw parts, drool gathers in anticipation - but even as he lowers the mouth in his face towards Addison's neck, he can't help but banter in return. 

"More fool you for trusting an Impostor," Trep murmurs. He parts his jaws, turns his head, and latches them around the back of Addison's neck. He presses, slightly, and as he does he feels Addison go all at once still as stone - except for his pulse, which is racing so quickly it's hard to separate the beats from each other. Trep feels a thrill at the way it races beneath his teeth. 

All it would take is one clean bite. Simple. Efficient. A quick death, even, for a human Trep reluctantly admired. And yet. 

Yet. 

Trep finds himself struck nearly as still as Addison. Flesh is almost broken beneath his teeth but - not quite. Blood rushes at the surface of Addison's skin, but does not yet flood Trep's mouth. Flesh, prey, a real meal - it is at his mercy but still Trep can't move. 

Beneath the bitter, salty scent of fear there is something else. Something familiar, although Trep hasn't ever put a name to it before. It is Addison - a scent unique to the human, a scent that has invaded more of Trep's surroundings than he has realized. A scent that, through the bloodlust and the hunger, registers as familiar. Important. 

Safe. 

Trep growls, but despite his urging his teeth do not clamp any further. Addison trembles - it and his stillness the only outward signs of fear the human has shown. Because Addison is strong. Addison, who looked an injured and violent Impostor in the eye and still helped him. Addison, who only held on and did his best to calm the small Impostor desperate to hurt him. 

Addison, who sings to Trepper when he thinks they're alone. Who treats the boy like his own. Who speaks to Trep like an equal - banters with him in a way he has never experienced before. 

Trep is ravenous, wants nothing more than something fresh and alive to fill his stomach. To feed his child. 

But this is Addison. 

And Trep can't do it. 

His teeth loosen, he relinquishes his many grips. He steps away, suddenly more unsure than he has ever been in his life. His hearts still pound, but their beat feels different now. His blood still runs hot, but he thinks it must be for another reason. 

Then Addison looks over his shoulder - dark eyes full of confusion meet Trep's.