Help, I Accidentally Adopted My God

Chapter 1: Hungry

Weyoun 9 opened his eyes, only to find that he couldn't see anything. He inwardly sighed. "Good morning to you too, Holly. If it's not too much of a disturbance, I was wondering if you might consider getting off my face?"

"Papa silly." The goopy blob slid off his face with something almost but not quite like a giggle, her words distorted and bubbling.

Weyoun sat up, not bothering to correct the use of 'papa'. He'd given up that fight already. He stretched in the broom closet-esque room that he called his own, tail flicking irritably as he squinted at the timekeeper glowing dimly in the wall. A full hour before he was supposed to be up.

"Was there something you required, Holly One?" He asked as pleasantly as he could, unwilling to let his annoyance at yet more lost sleep show, despite being kept up most the night by the same being keeping him up now.

"Hungry." Holly burbled, rolling around on his blanket, mimicking its dull blue color. Her abilities were progressing, though Weyoun didn't know near enough about Changeling infancy to judge whether it was quick progress or slow progress.

Weyoun felt his face grow tight. "Founders don't need food, Holly." He said evenly. How did one accuse their god of lying?

"Hug hungry." Holly clarified, climbing up his arm. "Hold Holly?"

"'Hug hungry'?" Weyoun asked, wondering if it was inappropriate to laugh at a god. "Well, I... I suppose I can fix that."

He was sure it was blasphemous to cuddle with a god, but the only one around to punish him for it was the one asking him to do so. He tentatively laid back down, pulling the baby changeling close. He felt her relax against him.

"Papa warm..." Holly muttered, body going slightly more liquid as she drifted off to sleep.

"Sleep well, my Founder." Weyoun whispered, closing his eyes. Perhaps he could catch a bit more sleep before his shift on the cargo ship he now called home began.

None of the Weyouns before him would've ever thought this would be their fate. The Dominion defeated, him in hiding as a menial worker in a broken down cargo hauler, taking care of a baby Founder who didn't quite understand that he was her slave — what would they think if they saw how far they would fall, how many rules they would break?

Weyoun 9 didn't know. He felt and heard Holly rippling next to him in her sleep; he was laying so close to a God with too little fear, not nearly enough reverence, and far too much comfort. A small, treacherous part of him decided that it didn't matter what his past selves or even the Founders themselves would think — he wouldn't trade his time with this child for anything.