Hasley supposed he must have picked up something when they went into town the other day. Not a day after they had returned, his throat had started feeling a bit dry. A simple cold would have been easy enough to get over, but of course things were never easy for him.

His limbs had started to feel sore and they hurt when he moved, he was exhausted, and Dixon could see the change in his body language. It was then the older man realized he had not prepared to deal with a sick person in his care. What an idiot! But he didn't even know what his captive had contracted.

Hasley worked through the obvious discomfort for as long as he could, but it made him miserable. He was thankful to lay down for the night, but he had no idea what awaited him next time he woke.

It was 4 AM. He woke in a cold sweat, shaking, and nauseous, gripping his aching stomach as he struggled to sit up on his knees, one hand over his abdomen while the other clutched the bars of the crib so hard his knuckles went white.

He felt cold and he was trembling, but his face also felt like it was on fire at the same time. But, his stomach-

He realized quickly he was going to vomit and only a second later, he couldn't control the heat crawling up his throat anymore. He choked and threw up, cringing at the acidic rush through his mouth and nose. He hadn't thrown up since he was a child, but it was still just as unpleasant as it had been then.

Without anything else to do, he started crying, overwhelmed from how he felt and having just vomited. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely surprised when Dixon came flying through the door. Did Dixon just stay here and listen in on him for anything going wrong?

"Hasley." The blue-haired man judged by the tone the other was using, he was surprised by what had happened.

"H-H-" He stuttered, his voice hoarse. He felt like he might be sick again before this was all over. "I'm-"

"Come on. Hold your arms up," Dixon instructed. Hasley did as he was told, too weak to do anything else. Needless to say, his clothes and bed were soiled from having thrown up. Dixon lifted him out of the crib, careful not to get any of the mess on himself as he carried him to the bathroom.

"You're burning up," he commented. He sat him on the floor in the bathroom and began stripping him of his clothes. The tile was like ice on his bare legs.

Hasley already felt cold so the removal of his clothes only left him more uncomfortable, tears beginning to flow freely down his face. He was dizzy and though he tried to make himself care that he was completely breaking down in front of Dixon, he just couldn't.

"It's alright. Just sit there for a minute," Dixon continued once Hasley was fully undressed, then turned and turned on the faucet in the tub, letting it fill with cool water. He needed to bring the other's temperature down as quickly as possible.

Hasley swallowed anxiously. "I-I'm going to-" Dixon hissed and helped him to stand, leaning his head over the toilet. Thankfully, this time wasn't nearly as violent at the first and didn't make a mess, though it did cause Hasley to collapse in another onslaught of tears. He didn't have the strength in his legs to keep himself up so he just sat on the floor pitifully as Dixon drew his bath.

Once it was done, Dixon picked him up gently and put him down in the cold water, causing him to whine and struggle.

"We have to do this, Hasley, you have a fever. I'm sorry. Just relax," Dixon sighed heavily, holding Hasley down in the tub. The younger let out another frustrated cry, trying to pry the other's hands off of him; he felt like he might freeze in the water and his vision was spinning.

"Hasley!" Dixon raised his voice a bit, hoping the change of tone would be enough to stun Hasley into submission. It didn't surprise Hasley, he knew he was acting out, but he didn't like this, he was tired, and he just wanted to go back to sleep.


That stopped the older man immediately. He stopped fighting Hasley and let the other stand up in the water, staring at him in confusion. Surely he hadn't actually...

"Hasley..." He put his arms around him again, realizing quickly that Hasley was still trying to get out of the bathtub. He must have been hallucinating; maybe Hasley was sicker than he had thought. "...Just sit down for a minute. Then we'll get out."

"..." Hasley stared at him through bleary eyes, then reluctantly sat back down in the cold water. He knew what he had said, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Exhaustion from throwing up twice had hit him full force. He would probably do anything Dixon asked of him at this point.

After about 10 minutes of silence as Dixon brought handfuls of water over Hasley's shoulders, he decided it had been enough time and began to lift him out of the water. Hasley's eyes threatened to close as he was stood on his feet, leaning against the taller man for support as Dixon grabbed a fluffy towel and dried him off.

"You can sleep with me tonight," Dixon explained, patting the towel against the other's skin, "I'll clean up the mess in the morning. I know you're tired. Come on." He hung the towel up and urged him out of the room. Hasley followed him, his feet noticeably dragging, over to the changing table where he was helped up to.

Dixon dressed him quickly and took him in his arms, smiling a little to himself when Hasley's head leaned over and came to rest against his shoulder. He still felt feverish, but he wasn't nearly as hot to the touch as he had been when Dixon had come into the room. By the time he got back to his bedroom, he could hear Hasley's slow, steady breathing.

Dixon's bedroom was by no means the fanciest. It only contained a large bed, a dresser, and a side table with a lamp. There were two doors on the other side of the room, one that led to a small bathroom and one a closet, and a window covered by blinds, but the room otherwise seemed pretty empty.

It wasn't safe for Hasley, but Dixon knew he needed to rest and it would take him quite a while to fix the crib so it could be slept in again. He supposed now he was glad he was a light sleeper; at least if Hasley tried to get out of bed in the middle of the night, he would know.

He laid the blue-haired man down on the bed, chuckling a little when the other's arms sprawled out limply at his sides, his head turned to the side. He was out cold by the looks of things. Dixon smiled again and pulled the blankets back, slipping under the covers beside the younger before pulling it up over them both.

Hopefully Hasley wouldn't wake up getting sick again and Dixon wouldn't catch whatever he had. But he couldn't make himself leave Hasley alone in the nursery in this condition.

Funny, this had started out as a way to get Hasley to submit to him and now that he had, Dixon didn't feel as satisfied as he thought he would. He had created someone who relied on him fully, but he couldn't use it to his advantage. He couldn't hurt Hasley like that, not in this state.

Hasley still felt like hell when he finally woke up, as he knew he would. Sickness didn't just disappear overnight. His throat was raw and he had a terrible taste in his mouth. He smelled like vomit, but his clothes were clean at least. The same couldn't be said for his diaper though; as he moved, he realized he had wet and messed it during the night.

He felt awful overall. Sitting up in the bed, he grimaced at the ache in his joints, blinking his eyes against the sun pouring into the room. As his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he noticed this was not the nursery. It wasn't any room he had ever seen before. And he was completely alone in it.

"D-Dixon?" he called, cringing at the sound of his own voice. He couldn't speak as loudly as he wanted to. His throat hurt too much. It didn't matter anyway, there was no reply.

The room smelled musty, like an attic. Scooting off the edge of the bed, Hasley found his legs were weak, but not the same weak as when he was drugged with muscle relaxers. If Dixon had left him alone here, he was definitely going to take this opportunity to explore.

He went for the window first, using a finger to pull the blinds apart and peer out. It was warm and sunny outside and birds were chirping and playing in the trees in the front yard. How long had he been asleep? Suddenly, all the memories of the night before came crashing back down on him.

He remembered being cold, but also hot, throwing up and crying, being put in the tub by Dixon and throwing a fit, but it was all blurry. He couldn't tell if it had all really happened or if he had dreamt it.

The door clicked and Hasley jumped, turning on his heel to face the intruder. Dixon stood there in the doorway, eyes widened in surprise to see the younger man out of bed. He had a folded diaper and the box of wipes in his hand.

"...Er, I didn't think you would be awake so soon," he commented. Hasley noticed he wasn't wearing his usual coat and jeans; he was instead wearing a white cotton t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Had he been wearing that last night? He couldn't remember.

"I just woke up," Hasley replied, followed by a cough when his throat hurt.

"Sorry, I know you must feel terrible. Come here." Dixon walked over and patted the bed. "I'll change you." Hasley hesitated for a moment, then walked over, rubbing his gritty eyes as he went.

As he climbed onto the bed, he felt hunger tear into his stomach and he paused to hold it. Once it had passed, he flopped down on his back on the mattress, heaving a sigh at the feeling of his muscles relaxing.

Dixon made quick work of his diaper, taping the clean one around his hips and giving it a pat for good measure. "There... Your fever seems to have gone down too. You don't feel nearly as hot," he observed. Hasley looked so comfortable laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, he almost didn't want to move him.


"I'm sure you're hungry. Come on. We'll go have breakfast," he urged, slipping an arm under Hasley's back. The blue-haired man let out a faint whine of protest, but otherwise didn't complain as he was lifted off the bed and into his caretaker's arms.

He had never let Hasley have a meal in the kitchen because there were too many sharp objects he could get ahold of somehow and use as a weapon, but he had prepared for him to come here eventually.

There was a small dining table in the center of the kitchen with a couple of chairs and a matching high chair. It looked like quaint, with yellow floral wallpaper, and bright sun flooded in between the curtains.

Once Hasley was secured in the highchair, Dixon went over to the counter and began to take out some supplies from the cabinets. Granted, there wasn't much, but there was enough to feed them that morning. Dixon silently reminded himself to go shopping next time he had the chance. Maybe he would take Hasley?

He sat a pan on the stove and turned on the burner, then grabbed a bottle and fixed the formula. Hasley rested his arms on the tray in front of him, wincing slightly at the faint ache in his joints. He still felt terrible of course, but it wasn't like last night or even the past few days. He hoped that the illness was working its way out and last night had been the worst.

He must have zoned out because he snapped out of it when a bottle was placed in front of him, but Dixon quickly went back to the counter, to the pan where he was putting in a few strips of bacon. Hasley looked between him and the bottle blankly.

Dixon usually gave him the bottle when they were in the nursery, but never when he was in the highchair. But... Hasley really didn't feel like holding it right now. He slumped back over the tray miserably while Dixon put on a pot of coffee.

"...Hm? Hasley, what's wrong?" The man noticed a couple minutes later that the bottle was still sitting there, untouched and getting cold. "Aren't you hungry?" Hasley only looked up with him with sad half-lidded eyes; he may have been exaggerating a little, but Dixon didn't have to know that.

And he certainly didn't pick up on it. Dixon took another glance at the bacon before walking over to the highchair and taking the bottle, popping the nipple into Hasley's mouth. "Here."

Hasley straightened himself and began to suck, allowing his eyes to close in bliss. Dixon sighed, but let a small smile cross his face at how innocent Hasley looked right then.

He had single-handedly turned this foul-mouthed overly confident heathen of a "warrior" into a helpless infant. He couldn't even feed himself anymore! And Dixon was fairly sure he was incontinent at this point. He'd turned him into a baby. His...

His baby.

Dixon's eyes softened on the scene as Hasley finished sucking down his formula. He suddenly remembered what the younger man had said last night, during his heat of illness. He had called him...daddy. He wondered if he remembered and if he did, why he wasn't dying of embarrassment around Dixon. Had he actually worn him down to that point?

"I'm hungry," Hasley complained. Dixon nodded and tossed the empty bottle into the sink.

"Working on it." He took the strips of bacon out of the pan and put them on a plate to cool while he cracked two eggs into the pan. While they cooked, he took a sharp knife and cut the bacon into smaller pieces for Hasley. Once everything was done, he served it to him on a pink plate.

"..." Dixon poured himself a cup of coffee as he watched Hasley eat ravenously. Everything felt strange now. He had prepared for this, expected it even, to completely break Hasley's personality down and make him dependent. That was the whole plan. But it had worked very well and now he was responsible for this child he had created.

What was he doing?

Hasley licked his fingers of the grease once the plate was clean, looking at Dixon curiously. He didn't seem to pick up on the internal struggle in the older man's mind. "Are we going anywhere today?" he asked innocently.

"...We need to go shopping," Dixon came back to reality suddenly, his voice monotone before it relaxed. Then he put on his usual charismatic smile. "Do you want to do that?" His response was an eager nod.

Hasley had become limited with his words in the recent weeks. He still knew how to speak and would when he needed to, but he usually responded with shaking his head, nodding, or impatient little noises when he was upset. It was just another product of Dixon's treatment.

He almost felt bad. Almost. But he did like this. What had he really planned to do? Turn Hasley into a needy child then throw him back to his friends? Surely they thought the man was dead now. How long had it been, two months? He hadn't really been keeping track.

Dixon decided that argument with himself was for another time. He needed to get Hasley out of the house for some fresh air. In the amount of time he had been here, he had only been away from the house once, a few days ago, and now that Hasley was easier to control, he didn't mind taking him places.

"Can we go to the park?" The sudden question broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. Dixon gave the younger man a curious look, eyebrows furrowed.

"Um... Sure. But we have to go shopping first." That was something he had never expected; for Hasley to request they go somewhere. But he did suppose Hasley was lonely, he spent most of his day in solitude and if he wasn't by himself in the nursery, he was doing something with Dixon.

"Okay," Hasley replied contently. He almost sounded like he wanted to add something else afterwards, but Dixon had no idea what.

"Well, let's go get you dressed and we'll go."

Hasley hated the long, boring drive into town. It took far too long to get there and he had dozed off within minutes of being in the quiet bumpy car, his pacifier in his mouth. Now that he wasn't throwing a fit whenever it was put in his mouth, Dixon was quickly learning it was a fast and easy way to get him to go to be quiet and go to sleep.

He never took it out on his own anymore and he was silent when it was in, resulting in him getting tired and falling asleep. Dixon found him with the pacifier in the morning after he had put it in for Hasley to sleep the night before; it seemed to calm him down, which was handy. He needed to get him more than one.

When they finally arrived at the store, Dixon parked the car and got out, which startled Hasley awake. The straps of the car seat were undone and Dixon lifted him out, sitting him down beside him, the younger man's hand grasped firmly in his own.

Dixon almost expected Hasley to break away and run at some point during their time in the store, but he never did. He held his hand and looked at the items on the shelves, humming quietly to himself; every now and then, he would ask when they were going to the park.

He picked up some more diapers and a few new pacifiers as well as the list of groceries he had been compiling. Hasley was a perfect angel the whole time.

"I think you deserve a trip to the park after that," he commented. Hasley was already back in his car seat, eyes wide and kicking his feet impatiently while Dixon loaded the bags in on the other side of the car.


"Yeah. You were really well-behaved." Dixon gave him a quick grin. "We'll go there next, then it's back home because I don't know how well you are yet." Hasley bounced on the seat, smiling and pulling at the straps.

"Okay, daddy!"

Dixon faltered for just a moment before he closed the door and went to get in on the driver's side.