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Assistant: Title: Slow Down
        Author: Dreamy_Breezy Dreamy_Breezy 
        Chapter: 2/2 
        Summary: Stanley finds his old schoolbag left forgotten in the woods when he fell out of the portal. Inside it are old knickknacks from the 60s, some drawings and photographs, candy, and.....ugh. Summer Homework.Part 3 of the Dad Ford AU. You can probably read this without reading the first two parts and still enjoy it, but I would very much recommend reading the other parts first to understand the context for some of the story.
        Contents: Chapter 2: It wasn't windy after all
    

    

        
          
          
            I'm sorry in advance ٩(^‿^)۶Actually I've decided I hate this chapter and will probably editing it heavily within the next few daysihatethisihatethisihatethis
          
        

      
        
          I'm starting to plan out this AU in regards to little Ford and old Stan, and I have some new ideas, both on the plot and how I'm going to treat Stan's memory wipe.I kind of want to center their stories around something the younger versions of themselves need but don't necessarily want, but that's what the older supplies them with regardless. So Stanley wants adventure but what he needs is "safety," because he's never felt completely safe in his home town or even his house because of Filbrick. He does have fun with older Ford but more importantly he feels safe with him, especially when things start to get bad later on.Young Ford wants to put his head down and study/grow up faster so he can find his lost brother but what he needs is "fun." And that sounds worse than it is when you forget that Ford's still a child and deserves to still have a childhood as such. It's all about trying to hold onto light when everything seems dark.I should probably write these on a notes app instead of here but oh well
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    Stanley had hung the bag on the back of the chair before he sat down to feed the opossum, so he simply took the backpack and flung it atop the table, pulling the zipper open just as quickly. Stanford flinched, watching mud and water and Moses knows what spread onto the surface. Ugh, it smelled awful. He was definitely making Stanley wipe that down later. And he was going to invest in an aromatic diffuser from that shopping site- what's it called? amaz...ing? amazonian? He was still getting used to this dimension's technology (it's actually quite primitive compared to what he's seen in the multiverse, believe it or not!)."Get ready, moment of truth..." Stan hyped. He zipped open the rest of the bag and flipped the top over to reveal what was inside. Almost immediately, a bunch of coins and dollar bills came spilling out. And it was
no small amount to scoff at either. This was a master pickpocket artist in the making, the fruits of his deceit on full display. Stanford hummed disapprovingly and Stanley blushed bashfully. "Heh...spare change?" He joked with a shrug before immediately backtracking. "Listen, I swear I only use my adorableness to fool those who deserve it! I'm a scammer, not a jerk!" He crossed his arms, but then paused. "...Well actually, now that I think about it-" Stanford just shook his head and began to dig through the bag himself, pushing all the stolen money out and onto the table."Hey! Easy, easy!" Stan protested, swatting Ford's big meaty hands away. "That's my hard earned gold you're throwin' around!" Ford chuckled. Stanley was fresh out of Jersey, so his accent was thick as honey. He sounded like Ma and Pa and imitated any adult movies he snuck off to watch, as children tend to do. Forty years away from home had slowly chipped and etched away at his dialect, and now there were only little dabs and flickers left of it. That in itself isn't abnormal, per se, but there's no doubt he's also had to mold his voice into a new persona with each state he visited to evade suspicion from either his enemies or the police, and that certainly didn't help its preservation. He practically forced himself to unlearn his own vernacular in favor of a new one, again and again and again. Ford despised that when he thought of it. He wasn't mad at Stanley, no, more so the people who made him loose so much more than just his home tongue. And despite what this Stanley told him before that one night, Ford still felt angry with himself too. He still felt like he deserved a slice of the blame, and might always feel that way. Still though...he had missed Stanley's voice. He had missed his childhood. It was nice to hear it again, and very cute.While Stan neatly re-stacked and organized his coins and dollars, Ford pulled out the first thingamabob he saw. Oh, of course. Toys. In fact, they took up most of the space in the bag. It was all the typical stuff that sold in the sixties. Robots that battled in a boxing ring, those were Stanley's favorite, a Captain N@z@ Puncher action figure, and a drawing pad that erases its screen when shaken. There were other knickknacks like baseball cards used for trading (or selling, in Stan's case; he always knew how to price them for more than they were worth), some poor girl's stolen doll, a toy gun, darts with sharp tips (how were these sold to kids?!), a jump rope, a Mr. Potato Head, and clackers. Ford pulled them out one by one to examine and Stanley greedily grabbed for each of them, happy to see his beloved possessions again after so long and eager to play with them. Little quips like 'Oh, my action figures!' 'Hey, I forgot about that doll I stol- I mean found. Totally found.' 'Eee! I missed my clackers so much!' were heard throughout the room. The only trouble would be choosing which one to play with first, the sheer variety overwhelming him into an excited happy daze, like it was all eight nights of Hanukkah crammed into one.While Stan settled with un-packaging his boxing robots on the floor, Ford searched through the remaining contents of the bag. Uh oh, there was candy in here. If Stanley found out, he'd go berserk. Some of this stuff probably wasn't safe to eat after being out in nature for well over a month at this point anyways. As carefully and quietly as he could, Stanford pocketed bubble gum, gummy bears, a chocolate-caramel bar, sour candy, chocolate cream eggs, and fruit pops. He may or may not have dropped a bag of jelly beans in a separate pocket for himself.....What?Stanford surveilled Stanley all the while and made sure he was still distracted with his game. Luckily, he hadn't noticed any suspicious sounding crunches or crinkles, and Stanford would decide later whether the candy was safe enough to be stored or thrown away. He felt a bit pleased, imagining the recognition and excitement on Stan's face when he pulled one of the treats out for a special occasion or reward.Alright, next up was...Stanford's face darkened suddenly when his hand came out holding a pack of cigarettes."Stanley, what is this?" Ford asked lowly. He held up the small box to show it to his brother. It dangled in between his fingers as if he were holding a reeking trash bag instead. They might as well be one in the same. Stanley's head turned obediently when called, but his face never lost its neutrality as he shot the object a mere glance before shifting his attention back to the toys."Oh, Pa told me to get that for him from the drug store and he'd give me a nickel for my time. It's no big deal." He answered simply with a smile. Honestly, it should have clicked when Ford first pulled out a bunch of toys that are definitely banned in 2012. When they were children, 'safety' was more a suggestion than it was the standard, especially when it came to kids. Stan was pulled straight out of an era where it was still acceptable for teachers to paddle students as a form of discipline, where kids could all sit in a truck bed going well over 70 miles per hour on the freeway, and people sprayed chemicals and pesticides with abandon on their war against nature. Drinking and driving without so much as a seatbelt was the norm, and afterwards the empty can or bottle was thrown onto the street without any qualms. Similarly with seatbelts, it was common to see children riding bikes without even a helmet on, pets (even dogs) typically roamed free, asbestos was present in practically every household, airport security was fairly light, and latch key kids were everywhere. If polluting the Earth was no sweat to the average man, then he held the same philosophy for polluting his body. If Stanford's remembering correctly, up until he was portaled it was completely normal for kids to buy cigarettes from their local convenience store for their parent, so long as they had a note of said parent's consent with them. Still though..."If it's for dad, why do you still have it with you in your bag?" Stanford pressed with growing suspicion, yet still, Stan's expression never wavered."I thought it'd be fun to try one for myself, I'd look real cool like those tough guys in movies, and I'm sure the old man'll never notice just one missing." He shrugged. He would've been wrong about that, well about both of those things, but it's hard to get past his dad's eye when it comes to lying and cheating. His dad was a p@wn shop owner after all, and he cared very deeply for precision and getting his money's worth, especially when it came to his kids."Absolutely not!" Ford replied sharply, his voice raised. This time Stanley swiveled his head towards his brother with raised eyebrows and a sudden frown. "I forbid it. Out of the question." Time away from home wasn't the only thing that scratched up Stanley's voice.He remembers now. It wasn't unusual for one of their parents to hand them some money and tell them to buy them a pack at the corner store, but on special occasions when they were lucky, Stanley would manage to sneak a cigar out of the box for him and Ford to experiment with. Ford never understood the appeal of the tobacco and gradually fell off of it, but Stanley got caught in its trap. Soon, old worn out cigarettes by their windowsill became a daily occurrence, and the allowance Stanley was supposed to save for his new glasses was spent on packs that filled the trash can. And yet still no one blinked an eye, Hell, some congratulated him for it! It was like a coming of age ceremony, and Stan reveled in its glory. Damnit, if only Ford had known of the dangerous consequences then, he would've sworn off cigarettes forever! Especially for his brother, who went through a pack a day in their teens, a desperate last ditch attempt to seem tough. Tough enough to fit in, tough enough to fight off dad, tough enough to smoke away his problems and forget. By the time they were seventeen his voice was unrecognizable. Now on top of the stress of his brother not able to even recognize a photo of himself these days, there was the also the possibility of him being plagued by cancer, a karma he didn't deserve, that no chainsmoker deserved. Ley didn't know everything Stanford knew now though."What's the big idea?!" He complained as his eyes furrowed. "I told you it's no big deal!""It absolutely is a big a deal. Stan, these things are horrible for your body! You shouldn't be using them at all!""Well then why does Dad get to use them??!""Because Dad is an adult and that is his choice to make. You are a child, and there's no doubt in my mind that these are more harmful to you than they are to him, even if that's not saying much." He observed the pack of smokes again. Stan stuck out his tongue."You don't know what you're saying, Pointdexter! Those things are fine, they even say it's healthy to smoke'm!""Who?""The folks on TV." Stan answered with finality and went back to playing with his toys, switching from his robots to his drawing pad. "More Doctors smoke camels than any other cigarette." He repeated from a commercial he heard, mimicking the advertiser's diction. The people on TV were Gods to a child. Their word was like law to him, his timeline just a few years short of the living room war. "You're a doctor, aintcha? You oughta know." He colored in a bunch of random lines on his pad before shaking it clear to start over. "No, not like that..." Ford rubbed his temples. He needed to explain this tactfully. "Stanley, come sit at the table for a second, I need to explain this to you." He pulled out a chair for Stan before sitting in one of his own. Stanley looked up as Ford waited for him, face beginning to pale. "You're not in trouble," Ford corrected himself. "I just wanna talk.""Great. A lecture." Stan groused, climbing up onto the next chair. He plopped his arms onto the table, having no mind for any manners or etiquette, and rested a cheek in one to keep himself propped up. He glared at Ford with dull eyes, preparing to be bored out of his mind."I know the people on television sound professional and experienced in their field, but..." Ford just decided to be blunt with it. "The truth is that they're lying to you. They're lying on purpose to sell their product." Stanley snorted."What? That's ridiculous.""You would think so, wouldn't you? But it happens more often than anyone would like to admit. In fact, people have been advertising false products since before televisions were even made. Have you ever heard of 'patent medicine' from the Victorian Era?" Stanley tapped his chin."Oh yeah," he suddenly remembered it from history class the few times it actually interested him enough to pay attention. "Those quacks all sold big hoaxes. And then there was stuff people used every day that had actual poison in it! Ha! Man, those guys were stupid to actually believe that cr@p." He laughed."Hmm, you think so? What if I told you that's exactly what everyone in the future thinks of you?" Stanley choked mid laugh and shot his head up."W-what?" He asked, a smile still lingering on his face, wondering if it was a joke. "Whaddya mean??" Ford smirked."Most people in today's timeline think those in the past were fools for believing cigarette ads. It's been half a century since the sixties, and we've learned more about what cigarettes actually do to your body. Or I should say, the public has. Actually, there are many doctors even in your time who long knew about the real effects of cigarettes, but advertisers stuffed their mouths with money as an incentive to stay quiet." Stan looked like he didn't believe this. "Well if people think I'm STUPID, then what's so bad about cigs anyway?" His voice broke a bit and cheeks grew red, he was starting to feel more humiliated than offended."I'll tell you." Ford answered. He opened up the pack and pulled out a single cigarette. "Look here. When a cigarette burns, it releases over 5000 chemicals." Stan slouched over, burying his head into his arms but leaving just enough room for his eyes to keep watching. Ugh, lectures really do suck. He hates it when he's held accountable."I'll unroll this one for you and show you." Ford then went about carefully unwrapping it until half of the paper was rolled off, revealing what's inside. "The part by the tan tipping paper and the phigwrap paper underneath is the filter you breathe through. But the main portion of the cigarette lies within the whitw cigarette paper." He took another cigar and used it to shuffle through the contents within. "This brown stuff you see here is tobacco-""I know, Sixer." Stanley groaned with an eye roll."I'm not lecturing you-""Yeah you are.""I'm just saying what it is." Ford cut him off firmly. "This is serious, Stanley. I need you to pay attention to me." Slowly, reluctantly, Stan turned his eyes back to the cigarette. "Good. Now as I was saying...most advertisers typically stop at tobacco and go on to describe its rich flavor and why it's better than any other brand of cigarettes. But they won't tell you what you can't see, and that's all the poison that's added into this teeny tiny roll of paper." That captured Stanley's attention, who lifted his head."The tobacco itself is bad enough, it already contains a highly addictive substance called nicotine. There's also tobacco-specific nitrosamines, or TSNAs. That is responsible for cancer in the lungs and esophagus. There's other toxic chemicals mixed in there too, but lighting it up is the real nail in the coffin." He took the second smoke and held it up for show. "Burning one of these things creates even more dangerous chemicals that weren't there in the first place. When you smoke, you're inhaling carbon monoxide, benzene, methanol, methane, ammonia, acetone, arsenic, lead, tar- and that's not even all of it! You're killing yourself and the doctors of your time wouldn't tell you anything! Some of them even thought it was good for you despite the growing evidence!" He exclaimed. Now Stanley was second-guessing himself, or more so, the people on TV. His brother was a genius, he trusted Ford more than anything or anyone and always came to him when his mind was all twisted up like a pretzel. Seeing Ford say all this...was he really being lied to? And what about Pa, who went through pack after pack on the daily?"So then...what does it do to you?" He asked rather meekly. Ford sighed, setting the smoke down. The better question was what it was gonna do to his Stan. He had to prevent this before it was too late."Some of your doctors might say it's healthy, but they're all wrong. It will ruin almost every organ in your body, that includes your heart, your lungs, eyes, mouth, brain, and even more than that." He pointed to each part of his body as he spoke as demonstration. "As far as I know it's linked to over a dozen types of cancer, and treatment for that is not only expensive and difficult but if you don't catch it fast enough than it's only a matter of time until it turns you into a shell of yourself. It hurts the immune system, makes you lose hair, rots your teeth, and can give you joint pain too." At this point he was just counting it off his fingers. Even though he spent 30 years across the multiverse and away from Earth, Ford held possession of knowledge no mortal on this realm could even begin to fathom. His education of human anatomy and how it reacted to every chemical put into it was minuscule compared to all else he could relate. Not to mention smoking was already becoming more taboo by the year by the time Ford left; commercials for cigarettes had already been banned."Ah, another thing, smoking absolutely destroys your voice. The chemicals and poisons in cigarettes will swell your vocal cords, damaging their tissues and scarring them. It'll make your voice sound all hoarse and raspy.""Huh?!" Stanley jumped incredulously. "But I saw another commercial saying it'll make your voice sound all deep and hunky! Like the bulls singin' in the ad!""They lied too." Ford replied simply. "We have the privilege of living in a future where we now see the long term effects of smoking, and we see how many lives it's ruined. People have lost their voice, their autonomy, even their lives. All because people cared more about money than telling the truth." ...Ok maybe it was a bit ironic to be telling Stanley this."Oh...huh..." Stanley sighed and laid his head on the table. "Dang it. I guess I'm pretty stupid then..." Ford immediately wanted to dismiss the thought."No, it's not your fault. It's not that people in the past were 'dumber' than people in the future, certainly not. Humanity has always and will always be full of fools, I fear." He'd call himself one of them, honestly. "As time went on, people have only traded one ignorance for another. That's how it's always been throughout human history. In 50 more years people will have the privilege of looking back on us and seeing where we went wrong. We just do the best we can while we're here until we know what works better." Ford's reassurances meant nothing to Stanley now though. He still felt like a humiliated fool for his naivety. He had just been totally classed by his cool, smart older brother. Pulling off arrogance is a hard feat to accomplish in the first place, but falling completely on your face..."But Stanley, I do have to ask you to promise me something." Ford gently tapped Stan's arm, and Stanley glanced at him halfheartedly."Lemme guess, I took up smoking like all those other idiots, huh?""...Well, that depends on what you do with this knowledge going forward.""I'll take that as a yes then." Stan muttered."Look, just please, please promise me you'll never smoke another cigarette, knowing what you do. No matter what happens to you or...or whatever happens between us later on in life, I want you to take care of yourself. Even if we spend time apart for school or work I want you to know that I've never stopped caring about you, stopped worrying about you, what you were up to, if you were safe." He took Stanley's hand and intertwined it with his own, squeezing it. "Please Stanley, promise me you won't."He was being ambiguous, avoiding what he really he meant again, refusing to explain more, Stanley knew that. It was irritating him. But seeing the stressed, pained, almost sad look on Ford's face, Stan faltered. "Yeah. Okay, Sixer. I promise." He didn't know if Ford really believed him or if he was just choosing to give himself some peace, what with Stan's reputation. Either way, he smiled with relief and ruffled Stanley's hair."That's my boy." He said softly. He took the two cigarettes and shoved them back into their pack. He then took the pack, crushed it between his fists, and tossed it into the garbage where it belonged. "Besides, you wouldn't believe some of the ridiculous things people are saying and doing these days. Have you seen the internet? I have, it's a relatively new invention. It's incredible how emboldened people are by the thin veil of anonymity. The power goes straight to their head! It's like talking to an old friend of mine all over again." -"Last but not least it's! It's-!" Stanley was drumming the table as Ford pulled out the final items of the bag. It was something light and thin. His hands fell still on the table as his face dropped once again, his energy being replaced by a burdening dread. "Oh." Ugh, he forgot. "Summer Homework." He said it like the words were gross soggy vegetables in his mouth. "You can just put that back. Or better yet, toss it like you did the smokes. Preferably with fist-crushing too." He pumped his fists into the air. Ford wasn't listening, opening the folder in his hands and taking out the sheets of paper."You haven't even started on any of these." Ford noted, skimming through them quickly."Don't need to." Stanley shrugged. "Ford's just gonna do it all for me. That's what he does with all our homework. Don't worry 'bout it." Stanford frowned. He remembers that. He typically loves school and at first didn't mind the extra work, in fact, it stimulated him. But as they got older and went on to middle school, then to high school, the work not only got harder but it began to pile on, and Ford stopped appreciating the extra work as the pressure to succeed began to choke him by the neck. He had started losing sleep, living on coffee to finish both his and Stan's deadlines in time, meanwhile Stanley just goofed off and lived on an idealistic daydream Ford had long let go of by then. It wasn't fair, not to either of them."You know, maybe instead of making your brother do everything for you, you could put the effort in to do it yourself?" Ford suggested, slowly, calmly, not wanting to set Stan off or make it seem like he was attacking him. "Ford...had a lot on his plate already at the time. And it's only going to get more daunting the older you two get. If you just try to do the work on your own, it would really help your brother. And who knows, it might help you get better with school too." He eyed Stanley hopefully."Blegh." Was all Stan had to say at first. "You know I'm no good with that stuff. It's pointless. I have tried, I just get it all wrong every time. Ford says he doesn't care, so I don't care either. In fact, why don't you just do it now?" He answered stubbornly. He remembered all those times he failed his math tests. Even when he tried, it made no difference. He just failed and failed and failed, and it was always rewarded with a beating. Ford frowned, his hope crumbling, and looked back down at the papers. It was all pretty easy to him, just elementary school math and english. He could get through it all easy peasy, no problem. The issue is that it wasn't helping Stanley. Stanley claimed it was making life easier for him, but in the long run, it was only making things harder. Stan wasn't letting up though, he seemed stuck in this...'learned helplessness,' if that was right. Ford brightened suddenly, his resolve returning."How about we come to a compromise then. I know how to do this homework, and you don't. Instead of just doing it all for you, I can help you work through it. Your tutor, if you will." He presented. Stan snarled." 's dumb. Sounds like a waste of time." He mumbled."Well, it's that or you're turning in empty homework to your teachers when you return. You'll fail." Ford baited sternly. He wasn't going to give in that easily either. Whether Stan knew it or not this was for his own good. And Ford was still being generous!"Don't care, not doing it." Stan grouched. Ford rolled his eyes, his composure breaking."Come on, Stan! I'm being nice to you, offering this! Why won't you stop being selfish and at least try for once in your life!" He snapped. Oh yikes, he hadn't meant to sound so harsh with that last bit. But Stan's attitude was really getting to him, even if he was a child. But still, he said what he said, and it was giving him deja vu. A flicker of hurt flashed through Stan's face before he stood from his seat and snatched the homework out of Ford's hands faster than the older had time to react."I said no!" He yelled back."Stan, give that back!" Ford lunged for the papers, but Stanley just dodged him. He was quick and small, not a good combo. He was flustered and angry, and that only fueled Stan's devilry, feeding off the attention.He laughed out loud as they danced around the table in an endless game of tag. Stan stuck out his tongue, blew a raspberry, and dodged a provoked Ford's grab."Stanley, that's enough! We're not doing this back and forth charade around the dining room!" Ford seethed. Hmm, well if not in the dining room, then why not outside instead? That's what Stanley thought as he reached for the door handle and dragged it open. The wind from before had moved onto greener pastures, or so Stan thought."Stan-!""Nooooooo!!!!! No!!" Stanley called out, laughing all the while as he ran outside, holding the papers over his head. "Gonna have to catch me if you want em! And I've got a better track record than you, Pointdexter!""This isn't a game! I'm serious! Get back here!""That's loser talk!"Ford outwardly groaned. He was just about fed up with the kid. But he bolted when Stan began to dash into the street."Stan, stop! That's dangerous!"Stan just kept giggling, trying to laugh away the sting he felt from his brother's words and accusations. He was already upset with Ford for keeping secrets and lying about it. It would have been better if Ford was at least a good liar. Even if he knew deep down Ford was right, he'd vomit before admitting so. That was not who Stan was. Things like feelings, focusing on the things that hurt you...that was all for losers and pansies. That's what Pa always said. Ford deserved to be prodded and provoked. It's what he got for being all secretive. "W-woah-!"Stanley stopped suddenly when he wobbled and almost stumbled over something in the road, regaining his balance only just in time. His laughing died down, replaced by adrenaline. His smile died too when he looked down.Ford caught up to Stanley, out of breath and confused."Stan...why..why did you..." The words practically died on his tongue, too shocked to even close his mouth. Stanley had gone dead quiet, barely holding onto the papers in his shaking arms anymore as he stared down at the dead opossum lying on the side of the street.
  
  

    
      
        
        
          SORRY SORRY. I'm sorry specifically to that one commenter last chapter who said they loved the opossum I promise I had this planned out before you commented it and I feel SO BAD now I feel like a villain💀I was thinking of something interesting I could do for the plot and my mind said "Dude...let's kill the horse."Idk why half of this was a PSA about smoking lol. Sorry if it dragged on a bit or got too robotic at points. I am freezing and half asleep. I liked the head canon that Stanley's voice got all gruff and scratchy from smoking too much. I don't think it's far off to assume he partook in one more vice than his usual amount, and they even implied both on the website and in the show that Stanley was involved in drug trafficking (pug trafficking and edible flour in Tijuana). I think it would be more crazy for Ford not to address it. He's gotta be a dad guys. Anyways don't vape kids.Also thank you for 6k reads on my first fic "I've Had This Nightmare Before" :DDDI'm kind of worried I'm gonna screw up the rest of this story now that it's getting some attention though you know? Like how the first season of an anime is absolutely breathtaking and then the highly anticipated second season comes out and the team just completely fumbled the bag and it falls off.｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ I understand the whole point of writing fanfictions is to write what you want for your own enjoyment but I want other people to enjoy themselves too!! So I suppose I'm a bit scared/nervous regarding my next steps.ヽ(；▽；) I just want to be vulnerable now in the event I mess this up later on. This will be an early apology in case it's needed. Thank you🌟'
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