Chapter Text
“5’3”, he says,” Stan muttered under his breath as he paced back and forth in the living room. “I’m not- how the hell could I be that short and you not realize right away?” he shot at Ford. Ford, who seemed far too amused for the severity of the situation.
“I suspect you know the answer to that.”
“Okay, yeah, I do all these perspective tricks to make me look taller, but you’re my twin! You didn’t notice anything was off?”
“I did, but I was prioritizing your lycanthropy.” Ford held out the tape measure. “We could measure again if you’d like.”
“We’ve already done it four times,” Stan sighed in defeat. He sat on the only thing he could in the living room: a massive dinosaur skull. “Dammit.”
“You said that your diminished stature is due to being ill with loneliness?” Ford asked, cautiously approaching. That was how he was doing everything with Stan. Cautiously. Stan wanted to be offended by it. But it was making things easier.
A year into being sick, he’d started being on edge. And it never really stopped.
“It sounds weird when you say it like that,” Stan grumbled. “But. Yeah. I didn’t have a pack, so I got sick.”
“What was it like?”
“I thought we were gonna talk about your work.”
“Consider this part of your research assistant role,” Ford said. “I would like to learn more about werewolves.” Stan’s hands twitched in his lap. He hated just how much Ford dwarfed him now. Sure, Ford had always been a bit taller, but he’d been more muscular, so it balanced out. Now, though, Ford was beating him handily on both fronts.
“It’s not like the flu,” Stan said quietly. “It’s like...a parasite, I guess. You’re not sneezing or coughing or throwing up. You’re just...wasting away. The alpha, he could tell I’d been sick for a while, and he explained-” Stan took a steadying breath. The memory of that day emerged from his mind. The alpha, a grizzled old man, sitting behind a big wooden desk, staring at Stan like he could see right through him. The moment he saw Stan, he’d known exactly how long Stan had the lone wolf sickness.
“Yes?” Ford prompted. Stan closed his eyes.
“The alpha explained that werewolves feed off of bonds with each other. Or- or something like that. When we don’t have bonds to feed us, we take it from ourselves instead. That’s why it makes you smaller, even if you’re fully grown.”
Stan’s gut twisted with burning shame, remembering how he’d been smaller than everyone in the pack except for the youngest pups. The ones he had to babysit.
“Can it be reversed by joining a pack?” Ford asked. Stan shook his head.
“You can gain weight and muscle again, but the height is gone forever. The alpha, he said it’s to remind wolves to stay with a pack.”
“I see.” Stan’s head whipped up in shock.
Was that anger in Ford’s voice?
Sure enough, while Ford was trying to keep his face neutral, a fire simmered in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just rather dislike that assessment,” Ford said diplomatically. Stan frowned, not buying it. “Am I correct that you had clothes in your bag?”
“Yeah, some.” Stan didn’t mention they were mostly hand-me-downs from the teenagers in the pack.
“How much and in what condition?”
“I dunno, a few outfits. And they’re not new, but they’re fine,” Stan said with a shrug. Ford looked at him thoughtfully.
“We should get going.”
“Going? Where?”
“You need clothes, Stanley.”
“I’ve got some!”
“You said you have a few outfits that, judging by what you think is ‘fine’ condition, are probably falling apart.”
“Wh- but- I’m wearing clothes that aren’t falling apart right now!”
“They are my clothes, and they don’t fit.”
“They fit fine!” Stan insisted. Ford rolled his eyes. He walked to the other side of the room.
“Would you mind coming over here?” he requested. Stan furrowed his brow, confused. “As my research assistant, humor me.”
“Hmph. That won’t work every time,” Stan said as he stood up. He began to march over to Ford. After the second step, however, one of the pants legs unrolled, slipping all the way down and tripping him.
“As you can see,” Ford said while Stan laid where he fell, “my clothes are inadequate for you.”
Still face down on the floor, Stan flipped him off.
“Hello, Dr. Pines, I didn’t realize you had a little brother!”
Stan grit his teeth and tried to ignore the latest busybody to approach them at the mall. Apparently, Ford was a recluse, so seeing him out in public attracted attention. Add what was obviously his brother with him, and it seemed like half the town wanted to talk to them.
And every single one of them assumed Stan was younger because of his height.
Okay, technically, he was younger, but only by minutes! These people were assuming he was younger than Ford by multiple years!
Ford awkwardly but effectively got the person to leave them alone, then turned to Stan.
“Do those fit?” he asked. Stan wiggled his toes in the shoes Ford had grabbed for him. They were both pretending that Ford didn’t get them from the women’s section.
A town with this many lumberjacks didn’t bother to stock men’s shoes in sizes smaller than average.
“Yeah. They do.”
“Good. There weren’t many other options in your size that you would have liked.”
“Figured,” Stan muttered.
“I thought it best to get shoes out of the way. We’ll have more luck with clothing,” Ford said optimistically.
Stan knew from experience that he was wrong.
“How are they so long?!” Ford asked wearily as he looked at the smallest pair of pants they could find in the men’s section.
“C’mon, Sixer, let’s just go to the fucking teenager clothes,” Stan said. “I wanna get this over with.” Ford sighed.
“All right.” He headed for the section of the clothing store with a big sign labeled “TEENS” hanging over it, Stan close behind. “I didn’t realize there were so few options for people of your stature,” he said as they started to peruse the clothing racks.
“The pack provided old stuff for me, so I didn’t have to go shopping for clothes very often. But when I do...” Stan glared at the T-shirts emblazoned with whatever bands were popular with teens. “It’s always like this.”
“How long have you been...?”
“This short? A couple years, maybe? That’s how long I’ve been with the pack.” Stan pulled out a pair of pants and held it up against his legs. To his relief, it was exactly the right length.
“And you were sick for how long?” Ford asked. Stan grabbed every single pair of pants that looked like it would fit. “Stanley?”
“All I’m gonna say is that you don’t get this short very fast.”
“If you’ve been at or near this height for years, why were you so surprised when I measured you?” Ford asked. Stan resisted the urge to cringe.
“Denial’s a powerful thing,” he mumbled. He nodded at the pants he was holding. “I’m gonna try these on. You can bring me some shirts if you find anything decent.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Thankfully, Ford found some plain T-shirts that fit Stan fine, and a few of the pants did, too. As they went up to the register, Stan muttered a curse under his breath.
“Is there something wrong?” Ford asked.
“I forgot my wallet.” Stan didn’t have much money, but he had some.
Probably not enough for the clothes. Definitely not enough for the shoes.
“Oh, I’m covering it,” Ford said.
“I don’t want-”
“-charity, I know. Think of this as an advance on your first research assistant paycheck,” Ford said. Before Stan could protest any further, the clothes and shoes were rung up and paid for. Outside of the store, Ford grabbed a random shirt and random pair of pants, then shoved them into Stan’s arms. “Change in the bathroom.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Stan snapped instinctively. He paused. “But I was gonna do that anyways.” Ford rolled his eyes.
“Just do it.”
Stan headed for the closest bathroom. As he changed in the only stall, a sense of not just relief but also anticipation began to drift over him. It had been a long time since he last had new clothes.
Once in the new outfit, Stan gathered the old clothes, aka Ford’s, into a ball and exited the stall. He hesitantly walked over to the sink to look at himself in the mirror.
A small smile formed on his face. He needed to fix his hair and go back to the gym, but he finally looked more like himself than someone else. He exited the bathroom with his head held high.
Ford was waiting in a chair by a fountain, scribbling something in the book he’d brought that morning when he went to check on Stan in the run.
“What’s that?” Stan asked. Ford looked up guiltily. He quickly closed the book before Stan see more than a rough drawing of a wolf.
“My research journal. I was writing down some of the information you told me this morning.”
“Oh. Okay.” He was probably writing more than that, given the look, but Stan dropped it. He handed over the balled up clothes. “Here.” Ford shoved the clothes into the shopping bag. He looked Stan up and down.
“You look far more comfortable.”
“I am.” Stan grinned. “I haven’t had jeans that fit this good in years.”
He froze.
A distinct scent was wafting through the air.
The scent of a wolf. And not just any wolf, a member of his former pack.
“Stanley?” Ford asked. Stan’s eyes darted around the corner of the mall they were in, searching for the source of the scent. His eyes finally landed on them.
A middle-aged woman with a pearl necklace and designer dress was dragging along a little girl also dressed in nice clothes. Too nice for someone her age to wear.
“We’ve gotta go,” Stan hissed to Ford.
“Is something wrong?”
“Someone from the pack is here. I can’t let them see me,” Stan said as quietly as he could. Even in human form, werewolves had uncanny hearing. While the woman, Alicia, might not recognize his voice given how little they’d spoke, the pup with her definitely would.
“All right.” Ford got up. Before they could take a step, however, Stan saw the little girl sniff the air. She let out a soft gasp and spun around.
“Uncle Stan!” she squealed at the top of her lungs, breaking free from her mother’s grip and sprinting over to Stan. Stan quickly pushed Ford behind him. The pup collided solidly with Stan’s legs and began to rub her face against him, making puppy-like noises of excitement.
Pups took a while to act properly human in public. That was why they were usually supervised at home until they figured it out.
“Hey, Liah,” Stan said weakly. He ruffled her silky black hair. “How are you?”
“Why are you here?” Liah asked, not answering his question. Stan crouched down to her height.
“I’m just getting some new clothes, that’s all,” he said.
“Really?” a voice asked. Stan swallowed. He looked up. Alicia loomed over him, her arms crossed. “Because Trenton went to the storage unit earlier today and told us about the little note you left.” Stan stood up. It didn’t help much. Alicia was much taller than average, and Stan was…
Well.
He was apparently 5’3”.
“Both- both things can be true,” Stan managed weakly. Breaking ties with a pack wasn’t as easy as Ford tried to make it sound. His instincts screamed at him to cower before the alpha’s daughter-in-law. “I’m done with the pack and I need new clothes.” Alicia’s lip curled.
“The pack gave you clothes. Are you really going to spit in the face of our generosity?”
“You gave me Mark and Benny’s hand-me-downs.”
“We could have given you nothing.”
“Uncle Stan, come back,” Liah whined, tugging at Stan’s hand. Stan steeled himself against her adorable, big gray eyes.
“I can’t.”
“But- but-”
“The whole pack has had to scramble to find childcare since you ran off,” Alicia said tartly. “For three days, no one has known where you are. The pups have had to be supervised by Benny.” She let out a soft scoff. “And they do not like Benny as much as they like you.”
“You left Benny in charge of the- wait.” Stan’s heart began to pound. “What do you mean, you didn’t know where I was? I called constantly the last three nights.”
“If that’s true, no one heard you.”
“How?” Stan demanded. “I heard you guys calling!” Alicia pursed her lips.
“That’s not the tone someone like you should take with someone like me,” she said, her voice clipped. Stan heard Ford shift behind him. Alicia looked down at her daughter. “Liah, say goodbye. We need to get home.”
“But I miss Uncle Stan!” Liah whined.
“Well, apparently, he doesn’t miss you enough to come back.”
“What?” Tears spilled down Liah’s chubby cheeks. “Uncle Stan?”
“That’s not true!” Stan snapped, finally pushed to his breaking point. He looked down at the pup he’d practically raised. “Liah, I- I do miss you. But I can’t be with the pack anymore.”
“Is it because of me?”
“No. It’s not.” Stan put his hand on Liah’s shoulder. “You’re a good pup. I just can’t- I have to find a different pack.”
“Oh.” Liah rubbed her eyes, sniffling. “Okay.”
“The heart of stone you have, to look a pup in the face and abandon her,” Alicia huffed. Rage surged in Stan’s chest.
“Fuck you,” he snarled at Alicia. Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head. Stan smiled at Liah. “Be good for your big sister and give your parents hell.” Liah giggled. Alicia’s face twisted, but she couldn’t do anything to draw attention in public any more than Stan could. She grabbed Liah and pulled her off Stan. Liah waved at Stan as her mother dragged her away.
Stan down heavily in the chair Ford had vacated earlier.
“Are you all right?” Ford asked quietly. Stan held up his visibly shaking hands. “Oh. We- we can sit for a few minutes.” He sat on the edge of the fountain. “So, that was…”
“The alpha’s daughter-in-law and granddaughter,” Stan said. To his credit, Ford seemed to take the information seriously. He winced in sympathy.
“That must have been difficult.”
“No shit, Sixer. My entire body is shaking like a damn leaf.”
“As I said, we’ll sit for a few minutes. Until you’ve collected yourself.”
“Yeah.” Stan tried to take some steadying breaths, focusing on the rushing water of the fountain behind him.
I haven’t talked back to someone in the pack since I first joined. He’d learned the hard way back then that he was in no state to do that. Distracting him from calming down, however, was the curious gaze levied upon him by Ford. He rolled his eyes.
“Spit it out.”
“The girl, she called you uncle?”
“That’s what all the pups call me.”
“And is that a werewolf thing?” Ford asked. Stan chuckled.
“Nah. It’s a me thing. I told them to call me uncle. Made it feel less weird that I was practically raising some of them.”
“When you took care of them, it was more than just babysitting, then.”
“Yeah. It was.” Stan sighed. “I’m gonna miss the little gremlins.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to see them again someday.”
“Maybe,” Stan mumbled. He stood up. “I’m good to go.”
“Are you sure? You still appear to be shaking.”
“I’m fine.” Stan headed for the large glass doors of the mall without looking to see Ford was behind him. He didn’t need to look. He could hear his twin’s footsteps and breaths. Once they were in the parking lot, Stan’s adrenaline-fueled stamina faded, allowing Ford to overtake him and lead the way to the car. Like he always did when getting in someone else’s car, Stan felt a twinge of sadness as he slid into the passenger seat. He hadn’t driven the Stanleymobile in ages.
He wasn’t even sure where she was.
Ford started his car. Stan immediately rolled down the window to get fresh air. As they pulled out of the parking lot, he stuck his head out, enjoying the wind on his face. He should have known the peaceful moment wouldn’t last long with a curious twin next to him.
“Stanley?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you recognize me?” Ford asked softly. Stan looked at him. “When you were in wolf form. You never seemed perturbed by my presence. Was it because you recognized me?”
“No.” A lot that took place while Stan was in wolf form was fuzzy and difficult to recall. But the encounters he’d had with Ford were crystal clear. “Things look…” Stan waved his hand vaguely. “…different when you’re a wolf. And with how long it was since the last time I saw you, I didn’t know who you were.”
“Why were you so sociable, then?” Ford asked. Stan rolled up the window. The breeze blowing past suddenly was more chilling than refreshing. “Stanley?”
“I was part of the pack, yeah. But they didn’t really talk to me much.”
“I noticed.”
“Of course you did.” Stan sighed. “I guess- I guess I just wanted some sorta interaction that wasn’t with a pup. They’re cute. Great kids. But man, I missed talking to an adult. Y’know?”
“It sounds lonely,” Ford said. Stan bristled.
“What the hell are you trying to say?”
“I’m just noticing-”
“I told you, I haven’t been sick in ages!”
“I wasn’t implying-”
“No, you were!” Stan snapped. “You were implying I was sick even while I was in the pack. But I would fucking know if I was! And so would all the other pack members!”
“Is it possible you were only mildly ill?” Ford asked. Stan looked away, fuming. “You said that werewolves feed off of bonds. From my perspective, there seem to be very few if any bonds between yourself and the others in that pack.” Stan reached for a retort, some sort of proof that Ford was wrong. But he could only come up with one argument.
“The pups liked me,” Stan mumbled. The anger before was being rapidly replaced with doubt. Sure, he knew more about werewolves than Ford, but not by much. Ford was always good at coming to the correct answer with barely any information.
Could Ford be right?
“Perhaps that is why you didn’t feel ill. The bonds you built with the pups sustained you.”
“Why do you have to say stuff in the weirdest way possible?”
“It’s a gift,” Ford said. Stan let out a soft snort. “Of course, we have no way of knowing whether my theory is correct unless I can determine the rate at which loneliness causes height loss.” Some anger was still simmering under Stan’s skin, but he couldn’t let his twin continue to refer to the illness as just “loneliness”.
It felt less serious than the truth.
“It’s got its own name,” Stan said.
“Pardon?”
“It’s not just called loneliness or- or being lonely. It’s called the lone wolf sickness.”
“I see.” A few minutes passed in silence. When Ford started to speak again, Stan tensed. “I suppose I should give you a heads up about some of the work you’ll be helping me do.” Stan relaxed, but only a little bit.
“Sure.”
“Most of my research is field work. You’ll be helping me perform surveys and collect samples.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It can be rather rigorous at times,” Ford said hesitantly. Stan shot him a glare. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“Damn straight it won’t.”
It definitely won’t be a problem once I pick up boxing again.
“The bigger concern is that we’ll have to go into the pack’s territory. Is that something you can handle?”
“I can’t go there, Sixer.”
“You did a fantastic job telling off the werewolf earlier.”
“Yeah, I did,” Stan said with a grin. The grin faded quickly. “But it’s just- it’s not smart for me to go in the territory. Maybe after things cool down a bit, but not- not right now.”
“Then I can restrict your responsibilities to areas not within the pack territory. I’ll give you a map when we get back so that you can draw the borders for me.”
“Got it.”
Ford started to talk about some sort of magic crystal he’d seen in the woods, and how he wanted to find it again to collect it. Stan knew what he was talking about. He’d be able to lead Ford directly to it later. So he tuned his brother out and satisfied himself by looking out the window, watching the trees whizzing by.
For the first time in years, he didn’t feel like he needed to fight or run. The knife’s edge he’d been living on was gone.