#thus: removal of all cans in house at the same time! genius! my mom of course doesn’t believe in this method of cleaning for good reason

[d0d0-b0i]

dreadful state of affairs really

[thelastspeecher]

Best Revenge AU - Finally, Some Ford Content

Ford has been suspiciously absent from all of the ficlets I’ve posted thus far in this AU, and while I’ve talked a bit about his role, I haven’t gone too in depth.  So, here, for everyone craving some Best Revenge AU Ford, I’m here to satisfy that craving.  Finally, some Ford content.  Enjoy.

—————————————————————————————— 

              Ford slowly woke up.

              Shit.  I stayed the night, didn’t I?  He sat up. The man he’d slept with the night before was already up and getting dressed.

              “Mornin’.”

              “Good morning,” Ford said hesitantly, realizing to his horror that he couldn’t remember the man’s name.  “Um…”

              “I can make ya some breakfast ‘fore I send ya on yer way,” his one-night-stand said.  “I’ve got to check in on my sister first; she’s startin’ a new job today. You can find yer way to the kitchen and make yourself some coffee while I’m talkin’ to her.”

              “…Okay,” Ford mumbled.  The man finished dressing and left the room.  Ford hesitated for a moment before dressing as well.  He exited the bedroom.

              Which way is the kitchen?  Ford chewed on the inside of his cheek and turned left. He followed the hallway down to a living room.  One corner of the room had a colored rug, baby toys, and a playpen.  He said that he lived with his sister, right? Maybe she has a child.  Ford wandered into the adjacent kitchen.  His jaw dropped.  There was someone sitting at the kitchen table.  Someone he recognized.

              “Holy shit, Stan?!” Ford said.  Stan looked up with a frown.

              “Hey, keep it down around Junior.”  His eyes widened.  “Ford?!”

              “I- you-”  Ford’s gaze landed on the infant in Stan’s arms, greedily drinking from a bottle of milk.  “Is- is that your child?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “…Sorta.”

              “What do you mean by-” Ford started.  He was interrupted by the arrival of his one-night-stand.

              “Oh, I see ya met my sister’s boyfriend,” he said. Stan groaned loudly.

              “Lute.  How dark was the nightclub where you found last night’s lay?”

              “Didn’t pick him up at a nightclub.  Found him at the library when I dropped off books fer Angie,” Lute said cheerfully.

              “Look at his face.”

              “Hmm?”  Lute looked at Ford.  He paled. “…Oh.”

              “You managed to hook up with my no-good twin,” Stan said.  The infant in his arms began to fuss.  “Aw, it’s okay Junior,” Stan cooed.  “I know, Uncle Ford is scary, especially his face.”  Ford crossed his arms.

              “We have the same face, Stanley.”

              “Since Lute didn’t realize we were related when he picked you up, I don’t agree,” Stan said tartly.  Ford sighed.  “You better get going before you make Junior even more upset.”

              “I’m not going anywhere until I find out what you’ve been up to and why you’re holding an infant that you said is ‘sort of’ yours,” Ford said firmly.  Stan scowled.

              “Lute, kick him out, will ya?”

              “No.”

              “Lute-”

              “I think it might be good fer the two of ya to reconnect,” Lute said.  “Don’t you think the lil bean would like an uncle from yer side?”

              “He won’t know what he’s missing.”

              “Okay, fine.”  Lute smirked.  “How do ya think Angie would want ya to act under this circumstance?”  Stan glared at him.  “You know full well that Angie would want ya to use this opportunity to reunite with yer twin.”

              “…Fine.”  Stan adjusted his hold on the infant.  “Why didn’t you come to the kitchen with Ford, Lute?”

              “I wanted to check in on Angie, but she’s still sleepin’.”

              “Yeah.  Since she’s starting her new job, I figured I’d feed Junior.”  Stan grinned down at the infant.  “He can’t be happy he’s getting his breakfast from a bottle instead of a boob.”  Lute rolled his eyes.

              “Crass, Stanley.”

              “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

              “You catch up with yer twin while I whip up some eggs,” Lute instructed, already opening the fridge.  Ford walked over to the table and sat in the chair next to Stan. He peered closely at the infant.

              “So…”

              “So…” Stan parroted.

              “What’s his name?”

              “Stanley Junior,” Stan said.  He frowned.  “Well, he’s not really a Junior, since he’s got his mom’s last name instead of mine. But he’s named after me, so we call him Junior.”

              “Ah.  And, um, how old is he?”

              “Four months.”

              “Four months?  Are babies supposed to be that small at four months?”

              “Doc says he’s definitely smaller than average, but that he can probably catch up pretty quick,” Stan answered.  He removed the now empty bottle from Junior’s mouth, then burped him.  “He’s a good kid.”

              “Is he yours?” Ford asked.  Stan set the empty bottle on the table.  “You said he ‘sort of’ was.”

              “If you were anyone else, I woulda left that part out,” Stan muttered.  “I hate your guts, but I’m not used to lying to you.”

              “Pardon?”

              “Biologically, he’s not mine.  He’s my girlfriend’s ex-husband’s.  But with how bad things got between Angie and Max, she decided not to tell him about Junior.”

              That’s a strange coincidence.  Didn’t Max Hillcrest at work recently go through a divorce?  What was his wife’s name again?

              “I was dating Angie, so I stepped up,” Stan continued with a shrug.  “And Angie named her kid after me.  I’m the only dad this little bean’s ever known.  If things go well, I’ll be the only dad he ever knows.”

              “Little bean?”

              “That’s what Angie called him while she was pregnant with him.  It stuck.” Stan smiled fondly at Junior. “Isn’t that right, bud?”  Junior giggled.

              “You’re raising another man’s child as your own?” Ford asked, his brain desperately trying to catch up with all he’d been told.

              “Yep.”

              “Why?”

              “I love Angie.  I love Junior.  Why wouldn’t I?” Stan asked, a hint of a bite to his tone.  Junior settled in his arms, smacking his lips happily.

              “Fair enough,” Ford said, deciding to back off. Some tension left Stan’s shoulders. “Other than dating pregnant women and taking in their children, what have you been doing since we last spoke?”

              “You mean, since Pops kicked me outta the house and you didn’t say anything or use your power to summon me in secret at any point for years,” Stan said flatly.  Ford opened and closed his mouth a few times.

              “…Yes.”  Ford cleared his throat.  “When we were younger, I remember you wanting to follow in Mom’s footsteps.  I haven’t seen any pyro heroes around here, though.”

              “Hold up, what?” Lute asked.  The brothers looked over.  Lute stared at Stan in shock.  “Stanley, you wanted to be a hero when you were a kid?”

              “Most supers do.  And like Ford said, our mom was a hero.  I looked up to her.”  Lute was still staring at Stan.  Stan sighed. “Obviously I didn’t do that, Gucket.”

              “Yer mom is a hero?”

              “Retired.  What’s with the third degree?”

              “You understand why that information is important in our line of work, right?” Lute prompted.  “Does Angie know?”

              “Duh.”

              “Why don’t I?”

              “‘Cause I’m not sleeping with you,” Stan snapped. “Even though I’m apparently your type.” Lute turned red.

              “Wait.”  Ford held up his hands.  “Wait. Stanley, am I reading between the lines properly?  Are you- are you a villain?”

              “Maybe I am.  Maybe I’m not,” Stan said.  He met Ford’s eyes.  “But whether I am or not, you know better than to snitch.”  Footsteps sounded.  Stan looked over.  An exuberant smile broke across his face.  “Look who it is!  The hot new professor!”  Ford looked as well.  A young woman stood in the doorway, wearing athletic shorts and a T-shirt she was practically swimming in.

              Presumably, it’s one of Stan’s.  The woman smiled at Stan.

              “I don’t mind it much when ya say it, but I sure hope no one at work calls me that.”

              “If any creepy coworkers do, let me know,” Stan said.  “I’ll handle it.”  The woman grinned viciously.

              “Oh, darlin’, ya know I’m fully capable of handlin’ it myself.”  Stan grinned back.

              “Good point.”  He held up Junior.  “Junior, say hi to your mama.”

              “Aw, he’s too young to talk yet,” the woman cooed. She walked over to Stan, took Junior from him, and sat at the table.  “And I don’t know if his first word ‘ll be ‘hi’.”  She began to lift her T-shirt.

              “Whoa, hey, uh, Ang, you don’t need to whip your boobs out,” Stan said quickly, glancing at Ford in distress.  “I fed him while you were sleeping.”

              “Oh.”

              “Also, we have a guest.”

              “Hmm?”  The woman lowered her shirt and looked up.  “Oh, my apologies.”  She smiled at Ford.  “My name is Angie McGucket.”  Ford felt himself pale.

              McGucket?

              “Dr. Angie McGucket,” Stan corrected.  Angie chuckled.

              “Yes, I have a doctorate,” she said.  She cocked her head, her eyes boring into Ford. “I’m guessin’ yer Stan’s no-good twin I’ve heard so much about.”

              “I- uh-” Ford stammered, still reeling from hearing his ex’s last name dropped so casually.

              “Geez, you make it sound like all I do is talk about Ford,” Stan said, rolling his eyes.  “That’s wrong.  All I do is talk about you and Junior.”  Angie laughed.

              Angie and Lute do appear to have the same nose as Fiddleford.  How could I have been so blind?

              “So, Stanford, what brings ya here?” Angie asked.

              “I brought him home last night,” Lute said.

              “Hmm, that seems out of character fer ya,” Angie said to Ford.  She shrugged. “Just goin’ off the stick-in-the-mud that Stan described to me.”

              “Why do you keep insulting me?” Ford asked. “This is the first time we’ve met.”

              “Maybe, but I also feel like I know ya pretty well,” Angie replied.  She bounced Junior in her arms.  “Stan took a while to start tellin’ me ‘bout ya, but once he did, he had a lot to say.” She smiled.  “Most of it was negative, sure, but some of it was positive.”

              “Angie, shouldn’t ya be gettin’ ready fer work?” Lute asked.  Angie groaned.  “I’ll make ya some nice breakfast while ya dress ‘n whatnot.”

              “Ugh.  Fine.” Angie handed Junior back to Stan, kissed his cheek, and left the room.  Ford coughed politely.

              “I, um, I should probably leave,” he said. Lute looked over.

              “Ya don’t want to stay fer breakfast?”

              “Your sister isn’t the only one who has a shift starting soon.”

              “Shift, huh?” Stan said, raising an eyebrow.  “Where’s the big shot genius working?”

              “Well, uh…”  Ford rubbed the back of his neck.  “I have been working on my own personal research, but to pay the bills, I’m currently employed as an executive assistant.”  Stan snickered.

              “Isn’t ‘executive assistant’ just a fancy word for ‘secretary’?” he asked.  Ford flushed. “You better get going, then.  Whatever doctor’s office you work for definitely needs you manning the front desk.”

              “Stanley,” Lute scolded.  Ford swallowed his retort.

              He’s been remarkably civil, let him be childish for one moment.

              “…See you later?” he suggested.  Stan froze.  “I mean, the fact that we were able to talk without fighting is, I think, a good sign that we can bury the hatchet.”

              “Ford.”  Stan met Ford’s eyes.  “Junior was here the whole time.  That’s why I didn’t shout or knock your block off.”

              “…Oh,” Ford said softly.

              “But…”  Stan sighed. “I’m not against making up.  Just know that the next time you and I are in the same room, it’s open season if Junior’s not there.”

              “Fair enough.”  Ford managed a smirk.  “I think you’d be surprised by how well I can hold my own now.”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “Goodbye, Stanley.”  Ford leaned over to smile at Junior.  Junior stared at him with wide eyes.  “Goodbye, Junior.”  Junior giggled.

              “Bye,” Stan grunted.  Ford waved goodbye to Lute and walked out of the house.  Beeping sounded from his pager.  He pulled it out of his pocket with a sigh.  The message made him sigh again.

              I swear, I’m the only person who can fix the wifi at work.  Everyone else either doesn’t know how or isn’t willing to do one of the secretary’s responsibilities.  Ford shook his head.  He put his pager away and began the long walk to work.  A building full of superheroes and not one of them can unplug a router.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Fast Car - Chapter 3

Tim borrowed the $300 of Jason's remaining cash to buy a car.

Technically, Jason had bought the car, since Tim was not allowed to get one without parental consent. But the $1,500 car was acquired with mostly Tim's money, and therefore, it would be Tim's car.

Janet Drake was livid. She went to town and declared that Jason had robbed his son to buy a car. And when Jason showed up to take Tim for his promised driving lesson, she was even more furious that she'd threatened that Tim should never return if he goes on with the driving lesson.

Tim had stood his ground, hand clutching Jason's painfully, and said, "that's fine. I'm leaving, anyway."

Jason had talked him out of packing out right there and then - while Sheriff Jones calmed Janet down.

For all his genius, Jason knew that Tim was unhappy. Heck, the entire city knew that Tim was unhappy. He was diagnosed by the school counselor as Manic Depressive even before he'd started high school. According to Tim, his depression was the sole argument that the counselor had given to prevent Tim from starting at sophomore year, at least, instead of freshman.

Jason had worked hard through the years to keep Tim's depression at bay, the best that he knew how: keep him busy, make sure he would eat, make sure someone would be there with him at all times, keep him talking. If the whole list of things were filled, he could always be sure that Tim would go straight to sleep by the time Jason called to say goodnight.

And wake up in the morning sans a new scar.

After graduation, and after Grandpa died, Jason had began noticing new scars on Tim, and fully blamed himself for not being there for Tim. His work had taken him into the late hours, early mornings. He could not take calls from Tim at random - Tim would have to wait for Jason to make calls. Most of Tim's friends have scattered all over the country into their respective colleges.

After they acquired the car, Jason did not know what Tim was doing through the next few months. He was too busy trying to find enough money to cover his rent - something that was getting much too familiar for him. The only leverage he'd gotten was that with Winter, there were numerous cars that demanded service, and the townsfolks didn't mind paying extra for him.

Blessedly, Tim did not hesitate to pick him up or loan him the car at any time. It was mostly parked in Jason's apartment, anyway, because Tim had feared that Janet would try to sabotage it (she had, actually, by removing a fuse. And Tim had to wait a few days until Jason could come by and bring the replacement fuse).

Jason would notice the telltale marks of a new cut seeping through his coat, sometimes, and he'd make a point of holding Tim extra tight, or calling him more diligently in the next few days, just for him to hold on.

That is, until the Spring had started, where Tim handed him a presentation on his laptop.

Tim's presentation - literal presentation in an actual slideshow - actually made sense. They would move - with the amount of cash they both have, it should be enough to get a place for them; Jason would get a job, Tim would get himself enrolled at the Gotham City Community College. The study would take two years, whence Tim would try to find internship jobs that would guarantee him a full-time job by graduation. And then Jason can get whatever kind of education he wants at the Community College, because he would not need to work full time with Tim covering the rent and whatnot.

If not for Jason's trepidation of the repercussions, he'd probably jump at it right away.

"No," he said flat out.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Why?"

"Because!" Jason insisted, his brain racing to find excuses that's not his fear of Janet Drake's wrath. "You're sixteen!"

"By this time, doofus, I'll be seven-teen. Technically almost legal and I could sign in for the military without parental consent - if I want to. I would also be tried as an adult if I'd committed felony! So yes. I'll be an adult by then."

Jason gave him an unimpressed glare. "And you want to do the utmost teenage cliché ever: run away from home."

"Technically, I'm not running away from home. I'll just be going back to my roots." Tim answered. "I'm a Gothamite by birth, Jason. So are you. We're not suited for this stupid country life. Furthermore, even a Community College at Gotham would be better than--" Tim made a disgusted face, "--the Thurman College of Applied Sciences. Seriously? Their idea of 'applied science' is how to change one's tires or man the gas station! That's not Science! That's vocational studies!"

Jason cringed inwardly. He had not chosen to apply for the Thurman College; not just because he didn't have the money, but also because the studies available there were moot, as far as he was concerned. One of his garage's clients even admitted to have brought his car to the 'college' to see if any of the students or faculty could figure out what's wrong with his car, to no avail. Until Jason exorcised the 'gallstones' from his gas tank that previously blocked the gas' meter.

Yeah, Jason could do a better job out of instinct than any of the students there. Thus, he never saw the need to apply.

Tim? Tim would stick out like a sore thumb in there. The only 'chemical' related studies there were food prep and plant care. Neither of which would have appealed to Tim even if he was paid to do it. Tim's mother, as they have both suspected, had refused his repeated pleas to have him schooled at other colleges out of town. She claimed that she didn't want to lose sight of her only son, "not especially since your dad died, Timmy!" But Tim said that she was simply being obsessive and possessive.

That, and there was the fact that she was getting engaged to the town's Sheriff.

"She wouldn't even miss me when I'm gone. Sheriff Jones have like, three kids under the age of twelve!" Tim said gleefully.

"Have you thought of where we'd live, in Gotham City? It's a big city, Tim, not like Bris-Town." Jason pointed out.

"Oh yes I have. I thought we'd go there on the weekends, scope the living quarters, and then put a deposit for an apartment or whatever, and then move there little by little until we can completely move there. We should also look for jobs there while we're at it. You know I won't be proposing this if I hadn't thought of every angle." Tim explained, idly scratching his arm.

"Your mom would cut you off your inheritance if you do this." Jason reminded him.

"Pfft... she can't, really. Plus, there isn't much inheritance there, anyway." Tim said. "The so-called major inheritance is the house. And I can't really get it if she still live in it, now, can I? The lawyers sent me the dividend of my trust fund directly, and she can't stop it. It's only a couple of thousands, but it should be enough to cover a place for at least three months for us."

Jason has to admit, Tim is good at making plans. Bad at executing them. Although in Tim's defense, Jason would have to point out that the only thing that usually ruined Tim's plans would be his own mother. He had seen Tim had almost managed to build a microhydro-power plant at the town's fountain, only to have Janet Drake swung a hammer onto the contraption. Tim was twelve at the time.

Jason and his grandma had held Tim when he wept through that whole day.

Or when Tim started a petition to use the Town's fund to buy solar panels for water heaters; only to have Janet rip the physical signatures to pieces. Tim was fourteen. Grandpa had painstakingly glued the petition back together again, and Jason had handed the petition - now laminated solidly - to the City Hall. Janet Drake had flat out refused to have her house get a piece of the hot water installation, citing that the only place that needed hot water in her house was her bathroom, the one in her bedroom.

Tim had showered at Jason's or at his other friends' homes during winter from that point onward.

Jason had often wondered, if he has Tim's brain and his mom had been alive, if she would've done the same thing and sabotaged everything Jason would do. His grandparents would've been supportive - as supportive as they were of Tim's projects. He knew they would've been happy with him - proven by his grandpa's enthusiasm in teaching him about cars; even if his own truck eventually had to be sold off because he'd needed the money for his medicines. Or his grandma's undying support at him learning to cook - of all things. Tim was all thumbs when it comes to the kitchen; because Janet had forbidden him to do anything in the kitchen other than to open the fridge.

This time, however, Tim's plan would not involve or be touchable by Janet, at all. All Tim would need to do is bide for time, wait until he actually turned semi-legal.

Jason couldn't be sure if he should be glad or scared as all hell.

[angstandhappiness]

MOOD DUDE

dreadful state of affairs really