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Angiewolf AU - The Morning After

So I know I said last week that I was going to be taking a break from writing so I could focus on my thesis. But I also said that I might randomly post ficlets if I get struck by inspiration for something. And this is one of those times.

This is a long overdue scene, taking place after the events of Weirdmageddon in my Angiewolf AU. As for what all happened during Weirdmageddon in this AU, read to find out. Or go back into my blog and find the posts I made about it last year. Whichever floats your boat.

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Ford looked up from his mug of coffee as Stan walked into the kitchen.

“Your footsteps are incredibly loud,” he informed Stan. Stan froze. He slowly turned his head to stare at Ford. “I could hear you the moment you stepped outside of your bedroom.” It had been one of the many things Ford could hear from his seat at the kitchen table. He wondered if the walls were thing or the high ceilings, built with werewolves’ large stature in mind, amplified noises. No matter the cause, the house hadn’t seemed half as quiet as Ford expected it to be this early in the morning.

“You- Ford- you’re-” Stan stammered, running a hand through his hair.

“I have two questions I would greatly appreciate an answer for,” Ford interjected. Stan blinked. He seemed taken aback. At what, Ford wasn’t sure.

“Uh. Shoot.”

“First, why did I wake up in your guest room, on one of your spare werewolf-sized dog beds? Second, why was I nude?” Ford asked. Stan opened and closed his mouth silently. “I realize you may not know the answers to those questions, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“No, Ford, it’s-” Stan swallowed. “I can answer your questions. But before I do, you need to answer one from me.” Ford waved a hand, indicating he was willing to hear Stan’s question. Stan strode over to the table and sat next to him. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked in a low voice.

“I…” Ford furrowed his brow, thinking furiously. “I think the last thing I remember is that we were both being held hostage by Bill.” Stan nodded. “You were in wolf form, as Weirdmageddon began during a full moon and time was frozen during the entirety of the event. And you were…” A snippet of a memory flashed through Ford’s mind. Animal eyes narrowed, a vicious snarl of teeth as long as his arm, immense pain. Ford swallowed. “Did you attack me?”

“No, I-” Stan chewed on his lip. “It’s complicated, what happened.” He frowned at Ford. “You really don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t,” Ford said defensively. “And frankly, your body odor isn’t helping me to focus.”

“My body odor?”

“Yes! When was the last time you showered?”

“Last night.”

“Before or after you smoked a cigar, drank an entire bottle of whiskey, and worked on your car’s engine?” Ford snapped. Stan leaned back in his chair. He was watching Ford with an expression that took him a moment to recognize.

It’s the same expression he used to have when he did his best to help his children figure something out themselves.

“I didn’t do any of that, Sixer. Especially not the cigar thing. I gave up smoking decades ago when Angie got pregnant.” Stan’s tone matched his face. He was holding back the entirety of what he knew, providing as few crumbs as possible so that Ford could come to a conclusion on his own. “And I sure as hell ain’t gonna pick it up again. I like being able to breathe.”

“But you smell like-”

“Like what?” Stan prompted.

“Cigar smoke, whiskey, and motor oil,” Ford said firmly. Stan raised an eyebrow at him. “What?!”

“C’mon. I know you’ve heard that phrase before.”

“I-” Another memory floated to the surface, from decades ago. Angie explaining how she could tell who entered a room just by their smell. “That’s- I’m smelling your- your scent?” Stan nodded. “The scent that only werewolves can detect?”

“Stanford,” Stan said seriously, “you really want that title of ‘World’s Dumbest Genius’, don’t you?” Ford slumped against the back of his chair. “The dots are starting to connect now.”

“Yes,” Ford croaked. “Yes, they are. You’re not loud or smelly-”

“Okay, that’s not true,” Stan interrupted. “Don’t slander me like that. I’m just not as loud and smelly as you think I am.”

“…because I was turned and now have a werewolf’s heightened senses,” Ford said. Stan nodded again. Ford covered his face with his hands. “How? When?”

“The last thing you remember was right before you asked me to turn you. You had this…completely stupid idea to trick Bill into your mind and then erase your memory so that he’d be gone forever.” Stan scoffed. “Somehow, it fucking worked.”

“That’s right,” Ford said slowly. “Bill realized that you had the information he sought, not me.”

“Yeah, well, being the mate of a pack leader has its benefits.” Stan stretched. “All sortsa magical weird things talk to me and tell me shit. I probably – no, definitely – know more about Gravity Falls’ weirdness than you do now.”

“You turned me so that I could take your place,” Ford said. Stan’s face hardened.

“You literally put your arm in my mouth. I didn’t wanna do it, but I- you insisted.” Stan looked down at the table and rubbed his thumb against a bright red stain. “Now I know why Angie hated turning me so much. It fucking sucks.”

“And then I shifted.” Ford frowned. “I don’t remember anything after the bite. How did you manage to pull off the switch? It was a permanent full moon.”

“Well…” Stan sighed. “Being a werewolf for almost thirty years has its benefits. In some cases, I can force a shift back to human. It doesn’t last long, but that’s what I did. Bill was fooled into thinking you were me, since you were the one that was the wolf, and you know how the rest goes.” Silence fell.

Or at least as silent as things will be now that I have a wolf’s hearing. Ford tried to ignore the faint sounds of someone getting out of bed somewhere in the house. He cracked a weak smile in an attempt to alleviate the somber mood.

“It was a very complicated plan,” he said. Stan let out a half-hearted laugh.

“No shit.”

“Some would say overly complicated.”

“Again. No shit, Poindexter.”

“How the hell did it work?”

“I have no fucking clue,” Stan said, exasperated. He dragged his hands down his face. “But it did. And you were a werewolf who didn’t have any memory. Luckily, since Angie’s the Mother Wolf and I’m her mate, you listened to me when I told you what to do. So we managed to get you back here, set you up in the guest room, and just sorta worked on trying to get you to remember things. You were stuck as a wolf, but since we could still communicate, you were remembering things bit by bit. Yesterday, it seemed like you finally got all your memory back.” Stan rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. “And now you’re back to square one.”

“I don’t have amnesia,” Ford said.

“You don’t fucking remember-”

“I don’t remember the time I was a werewolf,” Ford said, talking over Stan. “I remember everything else.”

“You-” Stan groaned. “Oh, fucking hell. It’s that amnesia that happens when you first shift, isn’t it?” He looked at Ford. “We went through all that trouble to get you to remember shit and it woulda come back once you turned human again.” He slapped the table in frustration. There was a rustle from upstairs, like someone was startled awake by the noise. “God fucking dammit.”

“I’m not quite sure that’s accurate,” Ford said softly. “Angie went into a fugue state when she first shifted. She couldn’t remember who she was and was stuck in wolf form as a result. I think that restoring my memory was crucial to allowing me to return to human form. Once I was human again, the memory loss was no longer a concern.”

“I don’t think I’d say that,” Stan said. “I mean, you can’t remember any of the last like…month.”

“Month?” Ford gaped. “I was a wolf for a month?”

“Give or take a few days, yeah.”

“Holy Moses,” Ford muttered. He rubbed his forehead. “That’s…unfortunate.” Stan snorted.

“Understatement of the year.”

“Heh. I suppose.” Ford furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“Did something happen with Fiddleford while I was a wolf? I think I remember…well, not any specific events. Just that I had very strong emotions regarding him-”

“Pfft, like that’s news.”

“-and maybe his son?” Ford finished, ignoring Stan. Stan’s eyes widened. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I…” Stan grimaced. “You found something out, yeah. It kinda sucks you forgot it, but you’ll figure it out again pretty fast. All you gotta do is track down Fidds and Tate.”

“That will jog my memory?”

“It’ll do somethin’.”

“Could you be more explicit?” Ford asked. Stan shook his head. “Stanley, I’m not in the mood for one of your games-”

“It’s not a game. It’s- well, you’ll know what I mean when you see Tate again.”

“Stanley.”

“I can’t say anything about it, Ford,” Stan said in a tight voice. “I promised I wouldn’t. And honestly, being a werewolf has made me a lot more serious about promises.” Stan shook his head. “Man, wolves don’t fuck around with that shit.”

“…Very well,” Ford said after a moment. He sighed. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“That’s what you did last time. You can do it again.”

“I’m going to have to.”

“Yep,” Stan said cheerfully. He got up from the table. “Before you head out, though, want some breakfast?” Ford’s stomach rumbled. Stan grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll serve you up the Werewolf Special. It’s all meat.” Ford smiled back.

“That sounds both delicious and appropriate.” The scent of sweet peas and rainwater suddenly filled the room. Ford looked over at the kitchen entryway. “Hello, Angie.” Angie smiled at him.

“Hello, Stanford. I see yer back to yer old self.”

“As much as I can be.”

“I got to admit,” she sighed, “I’ll miss havin’ a big ole wolf kowtowing to me all the time. Not goin’ to lie, it was a good boost fer my self-esteem.”

“What do you mean?” Ford asked. Angie grinned crookedly.

“Hon, you were a wolf ruled by wolf instincts. And all of those instincts told ya to practic’ly walk on eggshells ‘round the head of yer pack.” She pointed at herself. “Me.” Ford chuckled softly. “D’ya think you’ll whip up a cure fer yourself?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure at this point. Having heightened senses might come in handy. But the shedding…”

“Yeah, vacuuming’s a daily chore,” Stan said. Voices carried from upstairs.

“Sounds like you should make up more than just one serving of breakfast,” Ford said. Stan nodded.

“Yep. Ang?”

“On it, darlin’.” Angie joined Stan in digging through the fridge and rifling through the cabinets, pulling out cookware.

“Stan?” Ford said. Stan looked up from a bowl of eggs.

“Yeah?”

“I’m very glad that you didn’t turn me until after we began the process of burying the hatchet. That’s not something I’d like to have forgotten.” Stan grinned.

“Duh. If you were still as pissed at me now as you were before everything went to shit, when you woke up naked in my house you’d probably think…I have no clue what you’d think, actually.”

“Me neither. So it’s just as well that I didn’t.”

“If yer goin’ to yap ‘n distract Stan, ya have to at least help cook,” Angie said, putting a hand on her hip. “We have a lot of werewolves to feed, not to mention Fidds, who’s comin’ over with Tate.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Ford said. Angie shook her head.

“Nope. Get up. Yer helpin’.”

“I’m not-” Ford started. Angie frowned at him. Some part of Ford urged him to do what she said. He stood. “You weren’t joking about how influential the pack leader is.”

“Nah, that part was just me bein’ a mom.” Angie beckoned him over. “C’mon. Help Stan crack some eggs.”

“Are you going to make pancakes?” Ford asked. Angie raised an eyebrow.

“If I am, they’ll be human-exclusive,” she replied.

“That’s something else to put in the downsides of being a werewolf,” Ford mumbled. Angie snickered. “What?”

“I’m very glad my pancakes are in such high demand, that’s all. Now, wash yer hands and get crackin’.”