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Africa was a large place, and after several weeks of traveling Temeraire was certain that it was the size of half the world. Laurence of course had assured him that Africa was not in fact that big, but was still a monolith compared to England. Temeraire had not been sure of what to make of that.

Later, on the night that marked the end of their first month in Africa, the peculiar trio made camp in a clearing. Temeraire had managed to pick up an Ox that had strayed from its herd and was now comfortably full, and had watched as the two men cooked, ate, and cleared away a plump hare he had helped catch. Temeraire lay edge of the clearing, where he was hidden beneath a thick canopy of leaves that rustled in cool night breeze. Laurence and the Frenchman, Alexander, leant against his side, aimlessly conversing as the fire crackled. Temeraire only half listened, warm from his meal. but then blinked slowly and turned when Captain Laurence said a word he did not know.

“Captain Laurence.” Temeraire lifted his head to regard the golden-haired man. Laurence paused mid-sentence to acknowledge him. “What is a father?” he asked. Laurence blinked, confusion passing over his face as he pursed his lips. Temeraire cocked his head to fix his eye on him better.

“a father is a man that cares for his children. Or, in some cases takes on another’s child and raises it himself. you would have a Father in china.” He replied, smiling. Meanwhile Alexander had leant forward to listen.

“Yes.” Said alexander, a note of humour in his heavily accented voice. “While he did not raise you, he did help create you, which is another factor in fatherhood.” Alexander turned to look at the fire nonchalant, meanwhile Laurence was internally begging for Temeraire to not ask about how he was made. Instead the dragon was silent. Head turning from side to side as he considered the words. He then sat up, Laurence and alexander being dislodged from their resting place.

“You and alexander,” he regarded Laurence, “are both men yes?” he asked. Laurence considered replying with “no, alexander is French” but decided that the joke would be lost on the dragon and simply said “yes” instead. Temeraire nodded at that.

“And you two have raised me since I came out of the shell, even if you did not care for me beforehand directly.” He said quietly, almost to himself. Yes, they were his carers, they fed him when he was small, and keep him out of harms way even if he was much bigger than them now. “That would make both of you my father.” He finally announced.

His face fell when Laurence made an odd noise, “Temeraire, no” he said, face red. Temeraire lowered his head, he didn’t understand what was wrong.

Meanwhile, alexander barked out a laugh. Laurence scrambled for a moment more and began to explain that the difference between their species made it impossible for Laurence and Alexander to be his father’s, he even began to offer an explanation for how parenthood could never be between two men. At least, not in a way society accepted. Temeraire sunk to the ground with a soft “oh,” his body visibly drooping. Laurence stopped speaking, guilt flooding him at the pitiful look of Temeraire on the ground.

“You made him sad” alexander said flatly, “besides what would be so bad about us being fathers to a beast such as this one. He would make a lovely member of any family, what with his brains and pure strength.” He lightly tapped Temeraire’s hide at that. Laurence sunk back onto Temeraires side.

“it’s simply not to be” he said, gesturing in the air to no one in particular, “We can care for him but never take the role of a draconic father.” Although he was less than well versed in dragon parenting He assumed that there was some form of familial love between the great beasts from what he knew. From the corner of his eye he could see alexander looking beyond doubtful.

“And yet here we are, lost somewhere in Africa having survived shipwrecking and starvation, with a great beast by our side, who we have protected. I would say we’ve done a better job fathering him than anyone else in this circumstance.” He paused, “considering they all died.”

Laurence did not immediately respond. He was still flushed at the thought of being a father to a dragon, and even more so at the idea of sharing that role with another man. Especially a French one. But there was some merit to alexanders words. He groaned and he stood up to approach fire as if to warm himself. He stood there, listening to Alexander murmur to Temeraire, comforting him. The dragon made an affirmative noise and Laurence felt a surge of guilt. He liked the beast, and wanted nothing more but for him to be safe in England. But surely that didn’t make him a father to it. He glanced behind him to where Alexander was seated conversing with Temeraire. The Frenchman turned for a moment and met his gaze, and Laurence flushed. He reached up and weaved a hand through his hair, threading his fingers through it and looked again into the heart of the fire. Temeraire was right to assume that he and alexander were in fact his fathers, all things considered. Perhaps, he threaded his hand again. Perhaps parenthood could be between two men, without a relation besides the mutual desire to survive. At that Laurence turned again, only to see Alexander still staring, softly lit by the firelight. Laurence stopped mid hairstroke. Alexanders expression was unreadable, and for a moment they were there, silently looking at each other.
Yes, the mutual desire to survive, that was it.