#ngl it was v v fun to write angsty teenage Ford

[thelastspeecher]

Spy AU - Toxin, Finale

I got an ask earlier today that was about the situation in the Spy AU where Ford gets de-aged temporarily to three years old.  And it reminded me that even though I’ve discussed how that situation gets resolved, I never actually wrote it.  So, here it is.  Enjoy, for once, some legit fluff in the Spy AU.

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              The phone rang.  Stan began to get up from the couch.  Angie gently pushed him back with one hand.

              “No, darlin’, let me,” she said firmly.  Stan didn’t protest, instead sinking into the cushions silently, his eyes reddened from crying.  The both of them were struggling with the news that HQ had been unable to find a cure for Ford’s de-aging, and as such, he would be forced to grow up again.  Though it didn’t make Angie happy in the slightest, Stan was much more greatly affected than her.  She was more than willing to take on a few tasks to make things easier on her husband.  Angie headed over to the phone and answered it.  “McGucket-Pines residence.”

              “Angie, you didn’t get anything started with preparin’ fer Ford, did ya?” her mother asked over the phone.  Angie blinked.

              “Uh, no, not yet.  Why?”

              “Don’t.”

              “Why not?”

              “You don’t need to.”

              “We don’t-”  Angie covered her mouth.  “Ma, is-”

              “Like the toxin, the cure had a delayed reaction.”

              “What?  Really?”

              “Yep.  Now, he ain’t quite back to himself yet, but he’s definitely better.”

              “Is he awake?”

              “Yep.”

              “Lucid?”

              “That, too.  We’ve debriefed him on what seems to have happened, and he wants to come back to stay with you two while he returns to himself.”

              “Is that the wisest idea?  I mean, Kate-”

              “She signed off on it, don’t worry.  Look, just grab Stan and come over.  We’ll debrief the both of ya as well once ya get here.”

              “Got it.”  Angie hung up the phone.  She turned around.  Stan’s head was in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.  Angie sat next to him and rested her hand on his back.  “My love, that was Ma.”

              “And?”  Stan’s voice was thick with tears.

              “It worked.”  Stan’s head jerked up.  “Apparently, it’s delayed, but he’s already better.”

              “He’s-”  Stan swallowed.  “Ford’s gonna be okay?”  Angie nodded. “Oh, thank god.”  Stan slumped against the back of the couch.  “That’s- that’s the best thing I’ve heard since this bullshit started.”

              “Yes, well, apparently he wants to stay here while he recovers, and Ma wants to debrief us more thoroughly at HQ, so…”  Angie wiped Stan’s cheek with her sleeve.  “Collect yourself a bit and we’ll leave.”

----- 

              Angie and Stan followed Ma McGucket into medical wing, where Ford had been housed in for the last week or so, after his condition had deteriorated to the point that he needed around-the-clock surveillance by the team working on his case.  Ford’s specific room was one of the private ones in the back of the wing.  The door was closed when they arrived.  Stan frowned.

              “Where’d the sign go?” he asked.  After Ford had moved in, one of the people on his team had made a sign for his room at his request, with Ford’s name on it and an option for Ford to indicate whether he wanted visitors or not.  Stan and Angie had become used to the colorful sign during their daily visits to check up on Ford.  The undecorated door seemed almost ominous.

              “Ford took it down himself when he packed his things up,” Ma McGucket answered. “Don’t worry.”  She knocked on the door.  “Stanford, Stan and Angie are here.”  The door opened.  Peering up at them through thick brown curls was a young boy approximately six or seven years old.  Stan dropped to one knee to get a closer look.

              “Ford?” Stan asked quietly.  The boy nodded.  A broad smile broke across Stan’s face.  “You look a bit older now.”

              “Yes,” Ford said proudly.  “I’ve been told my age will double every day until I return to my proper self.”

              “Not exactly,” Fiddleford said, walking over.  Stan saw Ford abruptly blush, then duck his head to hide his red face.

              If Ford remembers how he followed Fiddlesticks everywhere, can’t blame him for feeling embarrassed.

              “Yer age has doubled once, and we expect it to double again,” Fiddleford continued, either not noticing or pretending not to see Ford’s behavior.  “Once you turn twelve, you’ll have another boost, to about fourteen or fifteen.  But yer agin’ will slow down then, prob’ly due to puberty-”  Ford’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.  “-so you’ll only age ‘bout a year a day.  Once you hit eighteen, you’ll have two more multiple year jumps to get to yer original age.”

              “So how many days is Ford gonna be re-aging?” Stan asked.  Fiddleford shrugged.

              “About a week or so.”

              “Should we be concerned about emotional and mental re-aging keepin’ up with physical re-aging?” Angie asked.

              “We’ll have a better idea of that once he hits twelve tomorrow, but right now, it doesn’t seem like that’ll be a problem.”  Fiddleford handed Angie a piece of paper.  “Some instructions from Kate, fer how to accommodate his re-aging. As well as what to do if his emotional and mental maturity seem to be lagging.”  Angie nodded.  One of the doctors assigned to Ford’s case, Jen, joined them.  She crouched down to Ford’s eye-height.

              “We’re gonna miss you around the wing, Ford,” she said cheerfully.  “You were a ray of sunshine for us.  But we’re happy you’ll be back to yourself soon.” Ford embraced her.  “Aw, thanks.”  Jen stood up and handed Angie another piece of paper.  “Kate’s instructions were psychological, these are physiological. Ford’s gonna struggle a bit, since each age has its own ups and downs.  Be sure to follow these to ease the growing pains as much as possible. Particularly once he hits the teenage years.”

              “Understood,” Angie said.

              “To make things easier, we already bought all the clothes Ford will need as he re-ages.  They’re in his bag with his other items,” Jen continued.  “Keep us updated.”

              “You got it,” Stan said, standing to his full height again.  “Don’t worry, Ford’s gonna be in great hands.”

              “I know.”  Jen playfully ruffled Ford’s hair before walking away.  Ford looked up at Stan eagerly.

              “I’m big enough that I don’t need to use the car seat anymore!” he bragged. “Mrs. McGucket told me so!”

              “That’s great.  Great enough that I think we need to stop for ice cream on the way home,” Stan said. He looked at Angie.  “Don’t you agree, Ang?”  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “I think the stop we really need to take on the way home is a haircut fer Ford, but yes, we can get ice cream.”

              “Hooray!” Ford cheered.  Stan beamed again.  “Race you to the car!”  Ford immediately took off.

              “Wh- hey!”  Stan chased after him.  Angie chuckled softly.

              “I’m so happy things worked out,” she said to her mother.  Ma McGucket nodded.

              “I agree.”  Ma McGucket eyed Fiddleford.  “Fidds, please keep Ford’s behavior when he was three a secret from him fer a while, will ya?  I think he might die of embarrassment durin’ the teenage days if he finds out he followed ya ‘round like a lil duckling 24/7.”

----- 

              “So the haircut we gave you yesterday was pointless, huh?” Stan asked. Ford glared at him.  After being a cheerful, hyperactive twelve-year-old the day before, he had woken up that day as a sulky teenager.  Stan didn’t remember Ford being this grumpy when they were teens the first time, but he figured the re-aging process was enough to put anyone in a bad mood.  Ford poked at his breakfast, a bowl of cereal.

              “My hair seems to be growing at a rapid pace to match the rest of my body,” Ford muttered darkly.  He blew a strand of hair out of his face.  “I look like one of those emo teens.”

              “Only if you dye your hair black,” Stan said.  He took a sip of his coffee.  “I wonder if either of the girls will go through a phase like that.”

              “Youch!” Ford yelped.  Someone had pulled his hair.  “What-” Ford turned in his seat.  Angie stood behind him, a brush in one hand, a clump of his hair in the other, and multiple hair ties wrapped around her wrist. “Angie-”

              “Do you know how to put hair into a ponytail?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.  Ford was silent.  “Let me do my work.”

              “You could’ve asked,” Ford grumbled, turning back to his breakfast.

              “I already did.  You groaned ‘fine’ and then stormed away ‘fore I could even grab a hair tie.”  Angie gathered the entirety of Ford’s hair in one hand and began to brush it.  Ford let out a few more small yelps.  “I told ya to use conditioner.”

              “I’ve never used conditioner in my life.”

              “When ya have long hair, it’s a necessity,” Angie said firmly.  She finished putting Ford’s hair into a ponytail.  “There.”

              “That hurt…so much,” Ford moaned.  He slammed his head on the table, jostling his cereal bowl and causing a few stray marshmallows to dive over the sides.  “I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

              “Okay, drama queen,” Stan said calmly, setting his newspaper down.  “Do you want us to cut it again?”

              “No.  The haircut you two gave me yesterday was dreadful.  I don’t want to look like that.”

              “It’s either long, loose hair or a ponytail, then.”

              “Ugh!”

              “How about I do your hair tomorrow?” Stan suggested.  Ford raised his head just enough to frown at Stan.

              “Why would I ask you to do my hair?”

              “‘Cause I do Danny and Daisy’s hair,” Stan said with a shrug.  “Never got a complaint from them about it hurting.” Ford let out a long, dramatic sigh.

              “I suppose.”  He rested his head on the table again.  “Everything sucks and I hate it.”

              “Sounds good,” Stan replied, picking up his newspaper and turning it to the sports section.

----- 

              “Stan, quick question.”  Stan turned off the TV and looked over at Angie, standing in the entryway to the living room.  “What was Ford like as a teenager the first time?”

              “Uh, kinda quiet and nerdy.  Basically the same as he was as a kid and adult.  Ford wasn’t really the kind of person to go through phases or whatever.”

              “So this is definitely new, then,” Angie said, crossing her arms.

              “What’s new?” Stan asked.

              “The loud music and the attitude and the sneaking out at night,” Angie said, gesturing towards the guest room, from which angsty music seemed to emanate day and night.

              “Wait, he snuck out?”

              “Last night.  Luckily, Fidds was makin’ a midnight run to the gas station fer emergency batteries.” Stan raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t ask what for.  Could be a robot, could be a smoke detector-”

              “Could be somethin’ he wouldn’t want his little sister to know he owns,” Stan interjected.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Anyways, he saw Ford tryin’ to buy alcohol.”

              “What the fuck?”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “That’s not something Ford ever did.  I did it when we were teens, but not him.”  Stan frowned. “We don’t have any of the fake IDs we use for work in the house, do we?”

              “No.”

              “How did he get his hands on a fake ID, then?”

              “He didn’t,” Angie replied shortly.  “He was tryin’ to buy alcohol without an ID.  His big plan was to just convince the person to let him buy it without showin’ a card.  Of course, the cashier wasn’t havin’ any of it.  Fidds showed up right before the cashier called the cops.”

              “Hang on, hang on.”  Stan held up his hands.  “Ford didn’t have any sort of ID, let alone a fake one?  Okay, that’s it.”  He got up from the couch.  “I’m gonna have a talk with him.”  Angie frowned at her husband.

              “That’s yer big concern?”

              “Well, yeah.  It’s just plain stupid.  Buying alcohol before you’re twenty-one isn’t that bad, but I’d hate for him to get caught.”

              “What if either of the girls pull the same stuff when they get to be teens?”

              “I’ll tell ‘em the same thing I’m about to tell Ford,” Stan said firmly.  “If you’re gonna break the law, be smart about it.”

              “In that case, hopefully they take after me and don’t cause any trouble,” Angie grumbled, looking away.  Stan chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.

              “That’s bullshit, babe.  You’ve always been a troublemaker.”

----- 

              “Wait, I did what?” Ford asked.

              “Took a page outta the ole Stan Pines Book of Teenage Rebellion,” Stan said jovially.  He flipped a steak on the grill.  Ford had returned to his proper age yesterday, but was having some issues with his coordination and mental processing speed.  Everyone at HQ was convinced Ford would be back to normal eventually.  He just needed some more time off.  Ideally, with someone around in case he got lost or injured himself due to his new clumsiness.

              “Geez.”  Ford rubbed the back of his neck.  “Why would I do that?”

              “Beats me.”  Stan grinned at Ford.  “But I kinda liked having a practice run in taking care of a teenager.  I’m gonna have to deal with two at once, after all. Maybe even more, depending on how soon Angie and I get to work on our next gremlin.”

              “You want another child?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan frowned at Ford.  “I know I told you that while you were stuck.”

              “Yes, well, my memory of that time is hazy at best.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to recall it at some point.”

              “Uh, I dunno if you really want to.”

              “…Fair point,” Ford conceded.  The door leading to the backyard burst open, slamming against the wall.

              “Uncle Ford!” Danny and Daisy shrieked, bolting to where Ford sat on the patio.  Ford chuckled.  He ruffled his nieces’ hair.

              “Hello, my dears.”

              “You weren’t at our birthday,” Danny said quietly.  Ford nodded.

              “You’re right.  I wasn’t. I’m very sorry.  Did your mother tell you what happened?”

              “You got sick,” Daisy said.  Ford nodded again.

              “Yes.  Extremely sick.  That’s why you had to stay at your grandparents’.  Your mother and father were helping me get better, but they didn’t want you to be exposed to my germs and get sick, too.”  Ford playfully poked at Daisy’s nose on the word ‘you’. Daisy giggled.

              “All better now?” Danny asked.

              “Mostly.  I’m not sick anymore, but I’m still not fully recovered, so I’ll be staying here until then. If that’s all right with you.”

              “Duh!” Daisy shouted.  Ford laughed.

              “I have presents for you two somewhere, actually,” he said.  He started to get up.

              “No, let me,” Angie said.  Ford looked over.  In the ruckus of his nieces’ arrival, he hadn’t noticed Angie exiting the house as well. She stood by the door, smiling fondly at him and her daughters.  “I know exactly where Stan put ‘em.”  She opened the door.  A blur of dark gray and black ran outside.  “Apple-” she started.

              “It’s fine, I’ll handle it,” Stan said.  Angie nodded once before heading back inside.  Apple ran over to Ford, cocked his head, and then whined loudly. Ford smiled and patted the dog. Danny and Daisy stared at him in shock.

              “Apple…likes you now?” Daisy asked.

              “It appears so,” Ford replied, deciding to keep to himself the many hours he had spent with Apple while he was de-aged, one of the few things he remembered clearly.  Danny turned to Stan.

              “Daddy, Apple likes Uncle Ford!” she shouted.  Stan looked over.

              “Yep.”

              “Did Apple help Uncle Ford get better?”

              “Eh.  Only partly. Mostly, it was magic.”  Stan wiggled his fingers in an exaggerated manner. Danny scoffed.

              “No.”

              “It wasn’t magic,” Ford agreed.  “It was medicine.  Which isn’t magic, but rather, a form of science.”  Daisy climbed into his lap.

              “Tell!”

              “My dear, I don’t have a medical degree,” Ford said, stroking her hair.

              “Fine.  Tell dif’rent science.”

              “Different science?”

              “Yeah!” Danny cheered.  Ford smiled.

              “Very well.  I’ll do just that.”  He cleared his throat.  “Long ago, there was a brilliant man named Nikola Tesla.”