Chapter Text
Solar hummed to himself as he rolled out the dough onto a cutting board and bent over to look at it crosswise, making sure that it was the right thickness. A few specks of flour drifted into the air as he lifted the sheet of raw pastry and deposited it carefully into a circular pan, tucking it into the corners so it would fit the shape perfectly. Using a fork, he poked a generous amount of holes into the base of the dough, allowing it to release steam. Fingers slippery with butter, he pinched the edges of the dough into decorative frills, cutting off the excess, then pressed a circle of parchment paper into the shape. He then poured a bag of dried beans into the middle of the uncooked pie crust to help it hold its shape as it baked. Tying off the bag and setting it aside, he lifted the pan and slid it into the oven, setting the timer and scowling when his floury hands left patches of white dust on the door handle and buttons. He’d clean it later.
Solar rested his palms against the edge of the cool kitchen counter and arched his back, groaning as his endoskeleton spine made several popping sounds. It had been a very long day. The family had spent the entire morning cleaning every corner of the house in preparation for the return of Killcode and Bloodmoon from their week-long hunting trip in the next state over. Sun had insisted that they sweep every room, dust every surface, and beat out every rug in the farmhouse, in addition to clearing up all of the clutter strewn across the house. Despite a few initial complaints, the siblings reluctantly agreed to his wishes and fulfilled each of their assigned tasks with as much efficiency as possible. For once, Sun’s insistence on cleanliness was not due to his aversion to dirt (mysophobia was an unfortunate trait to have when one happened to live on a farm); his newfound obsession with good air quality was due to Killcode’s developing a nasty cough last winter that seemed to be coming back as the temperatures once again dropped. The family hoped they could somehow combat Killcode’s worsening condition by dusting frequently, though the concern that their methods would remain unhelpful went unvoiced. They were beginning to worry that they wouldn’t be able to light fires within the wood stove to keep the house warm due to the smoke irritating Killcode’s lungs.
Solar was wrenched from his thoughts by a shrill whistle from the other side of the kitchen. He bustled over to the stovetop and pulled the kettle away from the flames, turning the dial back to the “off” setting as he pulled his favorite mug out of the cabinet, along with a tea bag. He poured the boiling water into the mug, watching the tea bag float to the surface in a cloud of bubbly froth. He leaned away to avoid getting his optics clouded with steam, then cursed as his elbow bumped into one of the other hot pots simmering on the stove. He stepped back as he rubbed his slightly burnt arm and surveyed the group of pots cluttering up the stovetop en masse.
“We might have made too much food.” He mused to himself, setting an internal timer for his tea alongside all the other timers ticking away in his mindspace. The portion of the day that wasn’t spent poaching dust bunnies was spent frantically preparing a meal that rivaled the family’s Thanksgiving dinner. They knew they were going a little overboard with the preparations, but they wanted Killcode and Bloodmoon to come home to a good meal that night, since they’d probably spent the last few days eating nothing but venison jerky while they waded through several feet of mud in search of game birds. In fact, they’d prepared so much that Solar had to stay behind to look after the food while the others took the truck to pick up their prodigal family members. Solar didn’t mind, though; after all, he still needed to make some pumpkin pie. He’d been itching to use some of his sugar pumpkins for something ever since he had noticed a few of them were reaching ideal ripeness. He certainly didn’t want them to go bad before he could cook something with them.
Speaking of which, it was high time he actually took the pumpkins out of the garden.
Solar took a little sip of his tea (still too hot) and headed towards the back door, stopping by the clothes wrack to grab his coat and boots. He slipped the heavy shoes onto his socked feet and tucked the edge of his jeans over the collar of his boots, not bothering to tie the laces fully, since he wouldn’t be out for long. The fluff of his jacket tickled his neck mechanisms as he strolled out into the cold, quickly shutting the door behind him to keep the warm air in. Earth’s potted herb garden (which was looking a little worse for wear) rattled with his footsteps as he clunked across the small covered deck, heading down the stairs and out towards the shed on the other side of the yard with his hands in his pockets, shielded from the chill.
Autumn had come earlier than usual that year, cold spells pulling in and out like the tide on their little farm. The grass around the house had already turned partially yellow and was now undulating in golden waves under the influence of an October breeze. Clouds rolled quickly across the baby-blue sky as red, orange, and yellow leaves tumbled through the air, rustling cheerfully as a compliment to the energetic chirps of migratory birds hyping themselves up for the next flight. Branches waved and creaked in the distance as Solar slipped into the dark, wooden shed and reached for the shears hanging on the wall, only to feel something fuzzy brush against his leg.
“Hello, Muffin.” He cooed, bending over to pet the gray barnyard cat. Muffin purred and shoved his head into Solar’s palm, planting his paws on the toe of a boot and kneading slowly. Solar chuckled and gave the feline one last pat before he straightened again and grabbed the shears, to Muffin’s dismay. He cast a worried glance at the tractor in the middle of the fairly large tool shed, shrouded in darkness and surrounded by its own innards laying strewn across the straw-covered floor. He and Moon had been trying to fix it in time for the harvest, but for some reason the machine refused to work, no matter what they tried. Solar sighed and ducked back out into the wind, deciding to leave that problem to his future self and carry on with his current task: making pie.
Solar passed the dying remains of the family’s summer garden, crumbly brown tomato vines drooping against their cages as if exhausted by the antics of their cucurbitaceous neighbors. Soon enough Lunar would be tasked with clearing the dead plants from the plot and replacing them with winter vegetables such as lettuce and radishes. Just a few feet away from the general garden lay Solar’s small pumpkin patch, wide green leaves accentuated by the occasional orange bulb nestled among the vines.
Wading into the knee-high vegetation, Solar selected a bright, waxy gourd and carefully snipped its stem, turning it over to inspect the underside for rot. Satisfied, he scooped the pumpkin up into his arms and stumbled back to the edge of the garden, trying not to get his feet tangled in the vines or stuck in the soft mulch that squished with every step he took. He felt the sunlight beginning to warm his rays, despite the wind chill trying to counteract it. Depositing the pumpkin at the edge of the plot, he tramped back into the plants, fetching two more for good measure. He didn’t mind if he made too much pumpkin purée; he could always use the extra ingredients for bread or soup later. Cradling the pumpkins against his chest, he carefully made his way back to the house, gripping the shears awkwardly in one hand while balancing a gourd in the same arm.
Somehow, he made it back to the deck without accidentally stabbing himself with the clippers. He left the tool hanging next to the door; he didn’t have the time to take it all the way back to the shed right then. He had a pie to make.
Back inside the warm house, Solar slipped out of his winter gear and rinsed the dirt off his pumpkins in the sink, lining them up on the kitchen counter for execution, i.e., cutting into wedges. He was just pulling out the cutting board when one of his internal timers went off, reminding him that one of the various food dishes on the stove was finished and would soon overcook. He yelped and rushed over to the other side of the kitchen to save the green beans, frantically pulling them off the grate and switching the burner off to eliminate the fire hazard.
He was adding a few extra seasonings to the beans when he heard a faint thump from the other side of the kitchen.
Confused, Solar turned around to see that one of his pumpkins had somehow fallen off the granite counter, rolling lazily toward him with the lingering momentum. He blinked at it for a second, slightly surprised. Abandoning the green beans, Solar walked over and picked up the pumpkin, inspecting its waxy surface for bruising. Strangely, it seemed undamaged by the fall.
Setting the pumpkin back in its place, Solar wondered how it had ended up on the floor. He had specifically placed it in such a way that it would have no chance of rolling around. Shrugging, he repositioned it more carefully this time, writing it off as an accident on his part.
Suddenly remembering his abandoned tea, Solar began hunting for his missing beverage, unable to remember where he put it last. Had he even taken the teabag out before he left the house?
He checked his internal clock as he searched, trying to figure out where his family would be at that time. After running a few minor calculations through his internal processor, taking into account the level of traffic they’d encounter, he concluded that they were probably still on their way to pick up Killcode and Bloodmoon. He felt sorry for his predatory family members; they still had to wait for about an hour before they could leave the state. Hopefully it wasn’t raining at their little bus stop; he chuckled to think of the startled humans driving down the street and seeing Killcode’s massive figure hunched over in their glass cube, a string of dead game birds over his shoulder.
Finally locating his tea, Solar took a relieved sip upon discovering that it was still pleasantly warm, a gentle herbal scent flooding his olfactory sensors and chasing the lingering chill from his body. He would’ve added some honey to it, but unfortunately for him, the rest of the family’s supply of honey had ended up in the cornbread. Setting the tea back down, he stepped away from the counter—and nearly tripped backwards on something that had appeared on the floor right behind him.
Yelping, Solar scrambled around for a handhold to break his fall, gripping the edge of the counter and very nearly spilling his tea. Hauling himself back to his feet, he glanced behind him, trying to figure out what had tripped him.
An innocent-looking pumpkin wobbled on the wooden flooring at his ankles.
“Okay.” Solar supported himself against the counter and tried to calm his racing oil pump. “This is getting a little weird.”
He took the pumpkin back to its place on the counter, discovering that it was the same pumpkin that had fallen over earlier. This time, he carefully examined the area around the pumpkins for anything that could have knocked it down. He found nothing.
Solar placed a hand on top of the pumpkin and gave it a little shake. “Stay.” He told it sternly, stepping away from the trio of gourds again. He told himself that it must have been some freak coincidence; perhaps the kitchen counter was angled slightly toward the ground. That sometimes happened in older houses; the foundation would shift, turning previously level surfaces into slight inclines.
Deciding to just get the pumpkin business over with, Solar pulled out a cutting board, a large knife, and a slotted spoon and arranged them on the countertop like a surgeon’s table. Grabbing the nearest pumpkin, he chopped the remaining stem off and sliced the massive fruit in half, allowing the two halves to fall apart into their respective positions. Using the spoon, he scooped the slimy fibrous strands and little round seeds out of the pumpkin, depositing the guts into a separate container. He would sort the seeds out later and roast them as a little snack. For now, he carefully cut the remains of the gourd into wedges and placed them onto a baking sheet, glancing back at the other pumpkin to give it a smug look as he dissected the corpse of one of its brethren.
The other pumpkin was gone.
Solar blinked at the (once again) empty counter space before he felt something bump against his toes. He looked down.
It was that damned pumpkin again.
Solar bent over and grabbed the offending fruit, thoroughly fed up with this turn of events.
“All right.” He called out, holding the pumpkin in front of him. “Whoever you are, stop messing with me.” He didn’t care if it was a ghost or a person or a raccoon that had snuck in. He was done with this. “Come on out; there’s no point in hiding.” He waited a second for the culprit to show itself.
He was not expecting the response to come from the pumpkin.
He felt the waxy sphere twitch in his hands and startled, nearly dropping his cargo. He stared incredulously down at the gourd as it shuddered, feeling something scratch against the pumpkin flesh close to his palm.
Peep. Peep.
Solar blinked at the pumpkin, too stunned to respond. He was. . . not expecting to deal with living fruit today. Especially not from a pumpkin he had personally planted, tended, and harvested from his several-years-old garden.
The pumpkin shifted again, making more squeaky noises, and this time Solar’s sensors registered the movement as coming from inside the pumpkin, rather than from the pumpkin itself.
There was something living in the pumpkin.
What the actual—
Suddenly, a tiny black thing erupted from the middle of the gourd, curved and smaller than the last section of Solar’s thumb. It was smeared with slimy orange goo and tangled in fibrous strands, as though it had been scraping at the inner walls of the pumpkin for quite some time. It fumbled around, as though exploring the outside surface of its prison for the first time. Its tip left little score marks on the pumpkin’s skin, prompting Solar to realize that it was some creature’s claw.
Peep! Peep! Peep!
Was it some sort of parasite that had burrowed its way into his pumpkin? It seemed very intent on getting his attention, Solar thought as the gourd twitched in his hands. He turned the pumpkin over and reexamined it for holes, blemishes, or any other way a foreign entity could have entered the hollow fruit. He found nothing; the pumpkin was as smooth and perfect as the other two sitting on the counter. Well, not anymore; another claw had wriggled out beside the other one, widening the hole.
“What are you?” He murmured, looking closer at the twin claws as they gained another ally. He was quite surprised when the creature inside the pumpkin responded readily to his voice with a little wiggle and excited chirping like a baby bird. The tiny claws clenched and forced their way out further, as though they were reaching for him.
“What? You like it when I talk?” He asked, pressing the pumpkin against his chest. The thing squeaked again, and Solar felt something fluttering against where his heart should have been. A strange thrill suddenly coursed through his body, beginning deep in his power core and traveling all the way down his body into the very tips of his fingers and feet. He blinked at the unfamiliar, though not unpleasant, sensation, absentmindedly hugging his pumpkin closer as it subsided.
He kind of wanted it to happen again.
Solar was pulled from his musings by a wet crack from the pumpkin. Startled, he glanced down to see that the claws had gripped the sides of their hole and had pulled some of the thicker flesh away, creating a larger gap. Through the widened hole, Solar could see gooey orange strands covering darker orange. . . skin? He could also see the rest of the claws’ appendage: they were attached to a relatively humanoid hand, the shiny black talons gradually transitioning into stubby, dark brown fingers with the texture of dried vines. Solar stared at it with a strange mixture of fascination and horror, watching as it twitched and scraped at the edges of the hole.
Whatever thing was in the pumpkin had hands. Tiny hands that could spread their fingers as far as possible and still fit perfectly in Solar’s palm.
Was there a baby in this pumpkin?
Was this even a pumpkin?
“How did you even get in there?” Solar asked incredulously. He hesitantly hovered his hand over the little hole, then brushed the back of his index finger over the creature’s hand, feeling the woody bumps of its skin. The tiny thing squeaked happily and grabbed his finger, wrapping its tiny claws around the digit and squeezing affectionately. It was slick with pumpkin pulp, the woody bits soaked through and slightly squishy to the touch. He felt the prickle of thorn-like claws digging into his joints, not nearly as sharp as they first appeared, and a gentle warmth exuding from its strange flesh. Solar’s hand and arm felt tingly, and suddenly he was very aware of the steady, forceful pulsing of his oil pump.
“You’re making me feel very weird, you know that?” Solar chuckled, fighting back a little twinge of disappointment as the creature let go of his finger and went back to chipping away at its hole, digging its claws into the orange flesh and breaking off tiny chunks, one at a time. Now that he was less startled and more curious, he noticed that the behavior of the pumpkin creature seemed quite familiar.
“Are you. . . hatching out of the pumpkin? Like an egg?” Solar wondered aloud, observing how the claws seemed to be cutting a line around the center of the pumpkin, rather than just making a big hole in the side. The hatchling(?) offered a cheep in response, working diligently to break itself free. Through the hole, Solar could see its sides expanding and contracting rapidly, as though it were panting with the effort. That wasn’t too surprising; hatching was a taxing endeavor that took much strength and energy to get through, even for normal birds who didn’t have to break through a one-inch-thick pumpkin rind to be born.
Speaking of pumpkin rinds. . .
“Are there more of you in my garden?” Solar asked, slightly disturbed by the thought. What was he going to do if all his pumpkins started hatching? He still didn’t know what this little thing was; for all he knew, it could try to kill him as soon as it emerged, though considering how fond of him it seemed, he highly doubted that outcome. The other two pumpkins on the counter seemed normal enough, though just to be sure, he rapped a knuckle on the side of each and pressed his ear to the tops to make sure they weren’t containing any critters. The only response came from the pumpkin still in his arms; it emitted an adorably tiny growl that vibrated against Solar’s chest, as though it were jealous of the attention.
Part of Solar wanted to go back outside and check the rest of his pumpkins for signs of life, but quickly dismissed the thought; he wanted to keep watching this one hatch. For scientific reasons, of course; he totally wasn’t worried that the creature would become too weak to finish hatching. Pie ingredients forgotten, he carried the pumpkin into the living room and set it down on the coffee table, curling up on the couch to watch it from a safe distance. This course of action prompted angry squeaking from the pumpkin and caused it to nearly roll off onto the floor in an attempt to follow Solar. Luckily, he was able to catch it before it hit the ground, pulling a suspension cable (the robot equivalent of a muscle) in the process. He sighed in relief, then felt stupid for getting so scared in the first place; the pumpkin had already taken two much more dangerous falls from the kitchen counter earlier without so much as a bruise. Pressing a hand to his injured side, he heaved the pumpkin back into his arms and settled down on the couch, this time with the fruit in his lap so it wouldn’t roll away again.
Solar quickly lost track of time as he watched the pumpkin hatch, mesmerized by the tiny claws slowly working a clumsy line into the pumpkin’s flesh, little gooey crumbs falling onto his pants and leaving a speckling of wet spots on the fabric. Tiny, barely audible breaths heaved, and tight plant-like skin strained against the confines of its slimy prison, moving back and forth and revealing different parts of the creature’s body. Solar recognized another hand, the press of a tiny, fragile spine, a strange leathery, purplish patch, and best of all, a tiny, softly glowing yellow eye pressed to the crack and squinting in happiness at its first good look at Solar. His metaphorical heart melted and pooled into the soles of his feet as it squeaked excitedly at his face. He may or may not have squeaked back.
Occasionally, the hatchling would stop for a moment to rest, catching its breath, then peep at Solar for encouragement. At first, he only answered with words, then gradually transitioned into whistles and coos as he realized it would accept any sound from him, even a sneeze. He tried not to think too hard about the babyish noises coming out of him, or the fact that his mind was falling into a fluffy, warm haze as he pulled the pumpkin closer to himself. The breaks weren’t any longer than thirty seconds, but still gave Solar a mini heart attack every time the creature froze. He forgot about scientific observation and just watched it emerge, unaware that he had been waiting several hours already.
At one point the creature got curious and kicked experimentally, unaware that it was aiming directly at Solar’s stomach. It wasn’t anything more than a little twitch against his belly, but it caused a rush of some sort of feeling that knocked the breath out of him. He gasped and clutched the pumpkin as an almost suffocating warmth filled his chest instead of air; his back pressed against the couch cushion as he panted and waited for the sensation to leave. His fingers tingled, his grip strength almost entirely gone. He felt stuffed, full almost to bursting, but in his heart instead of his stomach, tight and pressurized and bubbly like a can of soda. He couldn’t decide if it was uncomfortable or the best thing he had ever felt.
He really wanted this little baby to be okay.
About halfway through the process, when the creature had chipped away at maybe two thirds of its estimated line, it paused for much longer than normal - a full minute instead of thirty seconds. Instead of waiting for the creature’s prompt, Solar worriedly chirped at it first, quickly receiving a happy peep. It had trained him well. The hatchling started up its effort again, though notably slower this time. Solar was immediately concerned, but held out hope that this was just part of the process. He had no idea how long pumpkins were supposed to take to hatch, after all.
Gradually, though, the rest stops became more frequent, and the hatchling’s progress slowed dramatically, its claws breaking off smaller and smaller chunks and resorting to halfhearted scraping at some points. Its breathing slowed, it stopped shifting around as much, and the pumpkin somehow seemed colder to the touch.
Solar tried to be patient. He waited and let the hatchling proceed at the pace it felt most comfortable at, wrapping his arms tightly around the pumpkin to transmit some of his bodily warmth to the creature inside. He ignored the fearful pit opening in his stomach, sucking up all the warmth that had gathered in his body, and offered little chirps of encouragement to the struggling baby. He took deep breaths and forced his rushing systems to calm themselves.
Since when did he care so much about the little pumpkin creature?
Soon, however, the peeps coming from the gourd grew too weak to be ignored. Its tiny voice was quiet and strained, and only responded to Solar’s whistles occasionally. Solar once again offered his finger, which was readily accepted and gripped feebly. He rubbed the back of its wee hand with the tip of his thumb as he wondered worriedly.
The family had kept chickens before, so Solar knew very well about the first rule of egg hatching: never help an egg hatch. The inner membrane of the egg was covered in thin blood vessels, so if the eggshell was cracked in the wrong way, the chick inside would bleed out. Solar wasn’t sure how much of that information applied to a pumpkin, since he hadn’t seen any blood so far (did the hatchling even have blood?), but he didn’t want to take any chances and accidentally sever the baby’s lifeline.
The baby was so strong earlier. . . why had it lost energy so quickly? Did all that leaping off counters and rolling on the floor take up its limited strength?
“Why were you so intent on getting my attention?” He asked softly, somehow gaining his voice back. He gave the hand a little squeeze and traced the line of its progress with his other hand, admiring its diligent work. “Did you just want someone with you?” He wasn’t sure if the pumpkin creature’s species was social or not. Was it supposed to hatch with siblings? Parents? How did it even end up in his garden?
Had someone else planted a special pumpkin in Solar’s patch? Or did one of his own pumpkins mutate somehow? Obviously this wasn’t a parasite situation; there was nowhere a foreign entity could have entered the fruit. He could only assume that the creature inside was supposed to be part of the pumpkin. From what he had seen of its body, it seemed very plant-like, but its rapid movement suggested that it was an animal. He simply couldn’t create a scientific explanation for this.
But he could figure that out later. Right now, he needed to find a solution for this particular predicament, before the baby became too tired to finish hatching. He didn’t want to try to help it hatch, but at this point, he had no choice if he wanted it to live.
Solar lifted himself off the couch, cradling the pumpkin, and toddled into the kitchen on shaky legs, partly from worry and partly from sitting for too long. His partially locked joints protested with aches and a few metallic squeaks, causing him to wince. He gave his foot a little shake to get the oil flowing down there again.
Keeping the gourd close to his side (he was worried that if he placed it down, it would expend more precious energy trying to get back to him), he opened the utensil drawer and surveyed the tools for anything he might be able to use to help the hatchling. Despite his current stress, he chuckled when the pumpkin responded to the squeak of the drawer’s hinges with another curious squeak, as though it thought the noise was another person trying to get its attention. Examining the assortment of different kinds of silverware, he scoured his database for any information he could use to create a “game plan” for helping the baby.
A few people had reported using a spoon to weaken the eggshell enough for the chick to break through, though others claimed that method was a horrible idea. Most of the websites he pulled up told him to turn the egg every day during incubation and stop three days before hatching, to which he scowled; that wouldn’t help him. The pumpkin was already hatching now . Apparently one guy had helped an emu egg hatch by drilling a tiny hole into the air sac at the top of the egg, allowing it to get some much needed oxygen. That wouldn’t help Solar either; he didn’t know where the pumpkin’s air sac was, if it even had one, and the hatchling was already getting plenty of air through the hole it had made itself. Some sources suggested using tweezers to carefully remove the eggshell without piercing the membrane. Still not useful; the pumpkin didn’t have an eggshell to pick away. It had a thick, fleshy rind that was difficult to cut through with a normal knife, let alone tiny claws, and he wasn’t about to stab into the pumpkin like he was carving a jack o’ lantern.
Wait. . .
Maybe he didn’t need to cut into the pumpkin.
He just needed to thin the surface enough for the hatchling to slice through easily.
Solar plunged his hand into the drawer and pulled out a vegetable peeler, the thin blades spinning from the momentum. He carried it and the pumpkin over to the kitchen island and pulled a tall barstool over so he could sit above the pumpkin while he cut into it. Plopping himself down on the seat, he angled the pumpkin so that the undamaged section was facing toward him and gripped the handle of the peeler tightly.
Okay. Deep breaths.
Solar clenched his fingers around the tool, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. If he couldn’t steady his hands, he might accidentally breach the inner membrane and hurt the baby while cutting.
“If you feel anything at all, cry out, okay?” He told the hatchling, bracing the blades against the waxy orange skin of the gourd. “Tell me if something’s wrong.” He knew it didn’t understand a single word he said; he was more talking to himself to soothe his nerves than anything.
Slowly, Solar worked the blade into the side of the pumpkin, making sure not to dig too deep, then pulled it across the surface of the fruit, along the path that the hatchling hadn’t finished yet. Intrigued by the unusual sound, the creature peeped at Solar but didn’t shift to look at the origin of the noise, too tired to make unnecessary movements. Solar whistled back to keep its hopes up; he didn’t want it to get bored and go to sleep. It might not wake up again.
Solar finished the cut and removed a strip of wet flesh from the side of the pumpkin. He carefully examined the trench left behind for bleeding, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Wielding the peeler again, he traced the exact same path, deepening the hole and digging further into the curve of the gourd. He repeated this process several times, gradually falling into the routine and relaxing more. It felt good for him to be doing something with his hands rather than just sitting around and watching the baby do all the work. Occasionally, the hatchling would cheep at him, prompting an immediate response in the form of a chirp that grew higher in pitch with each cue. He barely even thought about it anymore; his body automatically reacted to the baby’s sounds and movements as though it had immediately adapted to his new role.
Role as. . . what, exactly?
An outside force with no emotional connection?
A tool to get out of the egg?
A sibling that had “hatched” first?
A caretaker?
A fathe—
Solar gasped as his blade hit something and cursed himself for not paying closer attention to where he was cutting. He pulled the peeler away quickly and inhaled sharply when he saw the tear in the pumpkin flesh. He had pierced all the way through.
Solar gripped the pumpkin with both hands and chirped frantically at it, practically begging the baby to respond. He quickly received a confused but sympathetic cheep, as though the baby didn’t understand why he was distressed but was trying to comfort him anyway. He sighed in relief and nearly fell off the stool as his body relaxed rapidly. He had cut too far, but the baby was unharmed.
Solar slumped forward over the pumpkin and rested his chin on its smooth orange curve. His motors rumbled unsteadily from the scare, causing the baby to chirp in confusion—or what he thought was confusion before it shifted closer to his chest from within the pumpkin as though trying to get closer to the vibrations.
“What?” He chuckled, somewhat breathlessly. “You like that?”
The hatchling peeped and shifted again. The movement against his chest caused Solar to shiver in delight. He pulled the pumpkin closer and manually sped up his motors so the baby could hear them better, prompting a little squeak of joy. It wasn’t until a couple minutes later that he realized the sound he was emitting sounded quite familiar.
He was. . . purring?
Dammit, Solar. Now you sound like Killcode.
Solar (somewhat reluctantly) withdrew from the pumpkin, cut off his motors, and tapped the fruit to get the baby’s attention. His touch prompted an inquisitive squeak that warmed his heart.
“Hey, little guy. You can break out now.” He told the hatchling, running a finger along the weakened walls of the pumpkin. When the baby didn’t respond, he scratched at the damaged side, trying to make as much noise as possible. “Over here. Just cut through this part.” Only the baby would know what bits to avoid slicing through.
The creature shifted within its prison, but made no effort to continue hatching. Solar groaned; how was he supposed to make it understand?
“Maybe you need a little motivation.” Muttered Solar, turning the weakened side of the pumpkin towards him. He wasn’t sure what to offer it; the only thing it had demonstrated that it liked was, well, him.
Honestly, he wasn’t above using himself as bait.
Solar carefully pushed the pumpkin across the island, all the way to the opposite side from him, then rested his chin on the cold granite surface. The baby squeaked in protest as it felt Solar’s warmth leave the surface of its shell and began to rock back and forth. He couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t rolling around like before.
This would be humiliating if anyone else was watching.
Solar glanced around the room, finding it still devoid of other people, then took a deep breath and let out the most pitiful-sounding whine he had ever made. The baby immediately stopped rocking and chirped worriedly, noticing how distressed he sounded.
That’s good. Just focus on me.
Solar whimpered, putting his all into sounding as miserable and lonely as possible, even pressing his rays against the sides of his head like sad puppy ears. The hatchling cheeped and shifted from within its shell, then began scratching at the wall of pumpkin between them as if it was trying to get to him.
Solar perked up immediately and continued his false crying. Apparently him being sad was a good enough reason for the baby to try and get out. He felt a little bad deceiving it in this way, but if the baby didn’t have a reason to hatch, it wouldn’t try at all.
Soon enough, tiny black claws breached the weakened pumpkin skin easily and began tearing through the thin layer like it was wrapping paper, thrashes growing more excited as it realized that hatching was much easier now. The pumpkin toppled over onto its side, and Solar had to jump to catch it before it rolled off the island. He wasn’t whining anymore; the baby seemed happy to finish on its own now that it could break through. He was startled when it suddenly switched from clawing to kicking, sending a little throb through his midsection at the thought of its earlier blow to his stomach. The two halves of the pumpkin slowly came apart as the baby pushed hard with its legs, which Solar could now see curled up against its adorably small chest. He could practically feel the strain in his own legs, as though he were stretching them out for the first time in his life.
“Great job, buddy!” He whispered giddily to the hatchling, who squealed in response, causing his battery to unleash a power surge into his systems. The sudden flood of energy (somewhat like an adrenaline rush) made him want to run in circles around the room with excitement. He barely managed to restrain himself, focusing the brunt of the extra voltage on purring loudly again. Despite his attempts at diffusion, his hands still shook with excitement as the baby continued hatching.
With one last mighty kick, the hatchling shoved the bottom of the pumpkin away, exposing its bare lower half to the cold air. Its legs were dark green and relatively humanoid, though instead of feet, its ankles transitioned into vine-like whorls, long and curved into little swirls like bean tendrils. There was nothing that would indicate whether the creature was male or female; the undercarriage was bare and featureless. It had a tiny, slightly swollen abdomen, like the yolk belly of a baby bird, and it was just as orange as the outside of the pumpkin had been.
Solar, shivering with anticipation, gripped the upper portion of the pumpkin, hooking his long metal fingers around the jagged, goey edges, and lifted it away from the baby, who winced at the sudden bright light in its wide, glowing yellow eyes. The half-sphere in Solar’s grasp slowly fell to the ground as he brought his hands up to his mouth, delighted tears welling in his mechanical eyes.
Oh, he’s wonderful.
The shape of its body resembled that of a human infant, though perhaps a bit thinner. Its face was round, with a familiar yellow-orange crescent shape on the right side and a dark brown shadow on the left. Jagged, triangular baby teeth stood out against the glowing yellow of its mouth and throat, as though it was lit by a fire from the inside. A thin vine attached the disproportionately large head to its chubby little body; its chest was a warm yellow that transitioned into bright orange around its stomach area, which faintly glowed from the inside as well. Its hands and forearms were made of a brown, woody substance with greenish exposed joints on the wrists and knuckles, like the sections of an insect’s exoskeleton. The upper arms, shoulders, and lower back were made out of the same plant-like skin as the legs and neck. The upper back was covered in a strange, purplish leathery patch, which was surrounded with something fine and white. . .
He’s fluffy.
Solar’s heart melted when he realized that the hatchling’s back and shoulders were covered with a layer of soft, white down, or something like it. He tentatively reached out and touched a shoulder with one finger, feeling an electric pulse crawl up his arm and settle in his chest cavity with a buzzing sensation.
It was the softest thing he had ever felt.
Solar spread his hand over the baby’s back as a weight he hadn’t even realized was there lifted from his shoulders. He felt lighter than air, like he was about to drift out into the atmosphere and that this baby was his only anchor to the surface world. Fluff tickled the joints of his fingers as he felt heat emanating from the hatchling’s body like a teeny candle. He barely noticed the sticky strands and orange slime still clinging to its body and rubbing off on his hand; he was too distracted by how absolutely adorable this little bundle was.
The hatchling was still laying face-down, spread-eagle on the kitchen island. Its tiny limbs twitched, uncoordinated, as it tried to push itself up to look at Solar. It planted its itty-bitty palms on the granite countertop and lifted its body less than an inch before it collapsed again, squeaking unhappily. Solar bit back a laugh at its wobbly movements as it kicked its legs, unable to sit up or move the weight of its massive head. He carefully slipped his thumbs underneath its armpits and lifted it up, supporting its fragile skull with the rest of its fingers so it could look at him. Its jaws split in an enormous smile as their eyes met, and it squeaked happily as it kicked its legs back and forth.
“Hi.” Solar whispered breathlessly, examining every inch of its tiny body. It was simply too cute, from its skrunkley face to its silky fluffs to its curled feet; he couldn’t get enough of it. He chuckled when it stopped squeaking and suddenly let out a massive yawn that swallowed nearly its entire face, revealing each baby tooth and even a glowing yellow tongue leading down its bright throat. “Are you tired? It must have been very hard to break outta that big ol’ pumpkin, hmm?”
The hatchling peeped in agreement as he gathered it in his arms and brought it close to his chest, where it rested its head on his metallic casing, just over his power core, closing its weary eyes. He felt minuscule breaths fluttering against his exoskeleton and little claws gently gripping one of his fingers. He reached down and nuzzled the baby with his faceplate, tilting its head to the side so he could bump his nose against its unbearably cute neck. It squealed in protest and batted at him with tiny fists as he rubbed his face against its chin, bringing it closer within his grasp.
It fit perfectly against his body, like it had been made for him.
Or he had been made for it.
Either way, he knew deep in his core that they belonged to each other.
He felt warm and fuzzy all over, despite the lingering chill in the kitchen. The afternoon sunlight flooding through the wide windows suddenly looked heavenly, casting golden shimmers across the countertops and floor. All other sounds faded in favor of listening to the baby’s gentle breaths and the pulsing of his oil pump, audible yet not overwhelming. His chest thrummed with a bubbly, irresistible desire to protect this precious little thing in any way possible. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he smiled at the sleeping face below him.
The world had never seemed so bright before.