Chapter Text
Alastor walked out of the back alley, ever casual and without hesitation. Beneath his arm was a manilla folder with the key to his next easy paycheck. Being a radio show host, especially a darker-skinned one, didn't come with a high pay, so he'd found other ways to line his pockets.
He'd fallen into the forgery scene early on in adulthood. It was quite a lucrative and necessary one in their society.
In a world where portions of people were biologically wired to regress to a younger mindset, it made sense the governments would want to classify and regulate them.
People weren't as binary as papers and IDs would have you believe, but according to the government, all humans could be classified as 'little', 'caregiver', or 'neutral'.
And if society couldn't handle people of slightly different skin colors, you can bet your life savings on the infrastructure around age regressors being about as accommodating as a hungry gator in the summer.
'Neutral' of course was the most advantageous classification to have. No extra laws, rules, or expectations around you. 'Caregivers' certainly had some extra baggage, but being a 'little'... that made life much harder. Especially for men.
As he walked down the street to head home he could spot a few homeless male littles. Alastor wasn't the sympathetic type, but he could at least understand the unfairness of it all.
In a country where medical documents can be demanded by anyone, employers, landlords, and security personnel, those who don't fit the mold have a hard time finding footing.
You often couldn't rent an apartment or get a job interview without your documents being required. A female little would need a caregiver, but a male little?
Effeminate. Weak. Wrong. Disordered.
Nothing more than a biological mistake.
It was hard for them to do anything. Luckily, they were a bit of a rarity.
But when the laws cause trouble, there will be workarounds for those to find.
That's where Alastor came in. Rather, where his branch of the business came in.
If a man was born a little, his only hope to live a full life was to get fake documents. Alastor was a natural, his fakes had never been spotted, so he got paid top dollar for his work.
And Alastor himself? As much as he yearned for 'neutral', some sick prankster above deigned to make him a 'caregiver'.
Caregiver. Alastor. The cannibalistic serial killer.
But he knew it wasn't some type of mistake in his test. He felt the nagging pull. Every so often when he passed those homeless littles, something sharp and aggravating would itch in his brain to fix it.
But he refused. He had better things to do than to provide time and energy to those who couldn't do things for themselves, even if that annoying voice shoved deep into the back of his brain wouldn't shut the fuck up.
Caregivers had their own expectations to deal with, like everyone assuming they'd eventually quit their jobs to father children or littles.
So he'd made use of his own forgery skills. To everyone but himself, he was a neutral. He had to keep the caregiver part buried. He couldn't imagine what his associates would think of him.
His partner in crime, Vincent Whittman, probably wouldn't mind. He always seemed a little soft around the edges for this line of work, that work being serial murder, but he was remarkably capable. He was strong, swift, decisive, and a capable leader to boot, possessing an almost otherworldly charm that could make some people do just about anything.
Speaking of Vincent, his eyes trailed up to the living room window of his house that he was approaching. He could see his silhouette there, no doubt working on that upcoming hit they had planned.
"Evening, Vincent." He greeted as he entered his home, gently closing the door behind him. Sure enough, his partner was hunched over the coffee table with a map of the building they'd be staking out in less than a week with various red marks of important locations. His head was in his hands, his eyes were focused but strained, and he had bags under his eyes.
He looked horrendous.
"Hey, Al." His voice was tired and gruff.
"You look quite a mess, dear." Alastor said as he tossed his envelope onto the dining room table.
"Christ, give a guy a break, will you?" He snapped back, his expression tense and irate. It gave Alastor pause. That was unlike the Vincent he was familiar with. Vincent had made it pretty obvious how much he looked up to and admired Alastor, he always seemed so soft and eager to please around him. And never in their partnership had he snapped like that.
"I'm simply making an observation. Are you working on our next hit?"
"The fuck does it look like?"
Alastor's eyes widened. "Just what on Earth has gotten into you? I do not appreciate this tone, Vincent."
"I don't need your sass."
"Nor do I need yours. Your jaw looks tight enough to crack a molar. Explain."
Vincent's jaw shifted, he could practically hear the grinding of his teeth. "Just... stressed."
"Well, obviously. What about?"
He harshly waved a hand in his direction. "Just... working on getting my documents renewed and you know what a pain that is."
"Your medical papers? Sure, its a long line to wait in but it shouldn't cause this much distress. Or are you getting it mailed to you? I cant imagine that would be stressful at all."
A harsh snort. "Fucking... whatever..." He rubbed his temples as if his head were pounding.
Alastor sighed, putting his hand on his partner's shoulder. "Go home, Vincent. Get some rest."
"Don't tell me what to do." He practically snarled in his face.
Oh, that was it. His soothing hand on his shoulder gripped his shirt like a vice.
"Listen here, Vincent." His voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "I do not appreciate this rotten attitude when I have done nothing to deserve your ire."
Vincent's expression, rough and strained, crumpled in an instant, as if he were going to burst into tears. He swallowed and forced a neutral expression.
"M'sorry, Al. Just having a rough day."
"Then go finish your rough day at home. We'll talk tomorrow when you can have a conversation like an adult."
Vincent flinched, staring at him with wide eyes. Alastor could swear he saw the shininess of tears before he abruptly sat up and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
Alastor sat there in silence for a moment. He'd been working with Vincent for years and had never seen that type of behavior from him. If they hadn't had the long work history, he would've dropped him in an instant, perhaps even killed him to be rid of such an arrogant fool.
But Vincent wasn't an arrogant fool, not usually, and he was a close confidant of Alastor. He wasn't willing to give up on this relationship over one night. There had to be something he was missing.
He sighed and walked back over to the dining room. He might as well knock out his forgery assignment before turning in. From what he was told, he had three documents tonight, all three of them littles, two female and one male.
He sat down, and slid the papers out, glancing over the written information, as everything started to click into place.
There, clear as day:
Vincent Whittman: Little
...
Vincent used to only take them at night, but they weren't working as well as before.
Suppressants, a wonderful, but expensive little pill you could only acquire if you knew where to look and had a wallet lined in gold.
Those little ovals were the key to keeping his image up, a perfect television star, a charismatic leader, the 'neutral' man who had everything under control.
Not a whiny little toddler.
Unfortunately, no shortcut is perfect. He was honestly surprised he'd been taking them this many years before building up a tolerance.
Now, he took them twice a day, morning and night.
Of course, it came with side effects.
He was trying so hard to keep them under control, but it wasn't easy.
His stomach had been cramping recently, dissuading him from eating very much. His head would pound and ache every so often, usually multiple times a day, and he felt like he was vibrating with how stressed he felt. His sleep was worsened to. He was getting 4 hours a night max, and even those four hours were restless and exhausting, plagued with nightmares that let him dangerously close to losing it.
His stress was wearing him thin, he had even snapped at Alastor, his business partner, his closest friend. He never did that.
He grit his teeth at that pathetic worthless voice in the back of his head. It screamed, it wailed to be let out, that it was in his nature to regress. It shrieked for him to just let go, that it would all feel better if he were smaller even if for a little while.
But he couldn't. He couldn't afford to slip even once. He was a leader, a killer, a force the be reckoned with. He had the respect of everyone. He couldn't risk losing it.
He especially couldn't risk losing Alastor. The most important man in his life would surely drop him the moment he found out about his classification.
No, he could endure. He was strong, he was tough, he'd get through it.
His hand shakily picked up the unmarked pill bottle. Just the sight of it made his stomach churn painfully, knowing what would happen once he took them.
Fuck. He should probably eat first.
He carried the pills down with him to the living room. It was Saturday and he had nowhere to be. That wasn't how he preferred it. He needed tasks, things to do, plans to make. The less he had to focus on, the louder that voice in the back of his head became.
He flicked on the tv, and his eye caught something, the Saturday Morning Cartoons block. He cringed at himself for even thinking of watching something so stupid and babyish. No. He flipped it to the news channel and watched for a moment. He was a grown ass adult. Not a little.
No matter how much it screamed, how much his head hurt, how much his stomach cramped, how much he wanted to cry and wail and stomp his feet like a kid, he would not let go.
A knock on the door made him jump. His eyes were stinging so he quickly rubbed them as he walked to the door. When he opened, there Alastor was, looking quite serious.
He felt even queasier seeing him, knowing he owed the man an apology but unsure he'd be able to say the whole thing without bursting into tears.
"May I come in?"
Vincent swallowed and nodded, stepping aside to let his partner in.
As he walked into the living room, Alastor spoke quickly to match his pace. "Might want to sit on the couch for this, and do turn that noise off."
Vincent felt even more like a child about to be scolded which was not helping. He silently clicked the tv off and sat on the couch, focusing entirely on not crying like a little bitch.
Alastor sat beside him.
"I'm not going to waste your time. I have a side business in forging medical documents, and yours came up on my desk."
It felt like Vincent had been doused in freezing cold water. He could swear his heart stopped for a minute. His throat closed up. His eyes burned. As soon as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, Alastor held up his hand.
"Before you panic, no, I do not hate you, nor am I going to drop you as my partner. But, judging by that unmarked pill bottle and your symptoms and behavior," Alastor gestured to the aforementioned bottle sitting on the coffee table, "you've been taking suppressants. A lot of them."
"A-Al, you have to understand-"
"Let me finish."
Vincent's lips slammed shut, face crumpling like a wet paper bag.
"I haven't been honest about my classification either. Despite what you might think, I am a caregiver."
Vincent blinked and opened his mouth, but he was truly speechless.
"I too have been shoving part of myself aside, but it is in my nature just as regressing is in yours. What you're doing is bad for your mind and body. Suppressing this part of you causes immense stress mentally and physically. Your shaking, your headaches, your agitation, its because you're not giving yourself the rest you need. Regression is a state of rest of littles."
"I-I-I... I can't." He sniffled. "my job-"
"I never said you had to reveal your status to anyone. If you give yourself time and space to regress, you'll be more able to control it and be 'big' when the time calls for it. Repressing it just makes it more likely to come out when you don't want it to."
"B-But," Vincent sniffed again. His chest was shaking with barely repssed sobs. His mind was getting foggier. Thinking was like trying to see through muddy water.
"We don't have to solve everything right now, but letting go in this moment will do nothing but help you heal. I assure you, I am equipped to handle you. Fall and I will catch you."
Vincent's voice was high-pitched and strained. "But.. W-why? Doesn't... make sense..."
Alastor sighed as his eyes dropped to the floor. "I too have shoved a part of myself aside for status and appearance. It's always nagged at me but I've done my best to ignore it. When researching what you were going through and how to help, I started understanding a bit more about the relationship between little and caregiver." He sighed and took Vincent's hands in his. "Just as you want to not be defined as a little, I want to not be defined as a caregiver. Now that we know each other's secrets, maybe we can come to an arrangement. Perhaps around each other we can just... let go sometimes."
Letting go.
That terrified Vincent.
He sniffled something wet and gross, tears teetering on the edges of his eyes.
"If I'm to care for a little, I'd like it to be a man I can respect and count on when they're big. A man I can care for at his lowest and depend on any other time."
Another wet sniff. "Me?" He whimpered.
Alastor smiled genuinely.
"Yes, you, Vincent. So do us both a favor and regress. I will catch you, I promise, so let go."
The final blow, a pop in his balloon, Vincent burst into unrepressed sobs, tears and snot streaming down his face. His hands reached out, seeking comfort, but he stopped himself.
Alastor didn't listen to his self-restraint. He wrapped his arms around Vincent and drew him in for a tight hug.
"Thank you, Vincent. Thank you for allowing me this gift." He whispered. It only made Vincent cry harder, his entire body quaking with each sob and hiccup as he buried his snotty face in Alastor's shoulder.
He couldn't stop it. It all felt bad. His stomach hurt! His head hurt! Everything hurt! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair it wasn't fair it wasn't FAIR!
Throughout his crying, he heard Alastor humming a gentle song, soft and low. He could feel the vibrations in his frame in their hug as Alastor's thumbs rubbed circles onto his back.
Time became a distant concept as Vincent bawled his eyes out. He hadn't the foggiest idea how long he was sobbing for, enough for his throat to hurt. After a while his sobs died down to pitiful whimpers and hiccups. Even then Alastor didn't pull away immediately, he kept up rubbing those soothing circles and humming that song. It was only after Vincent was finally able to take a deep breath did Alastor pull away.
"Vincent? Do you know about how old you are right now? Your papers said ages 2-5. Do you have a more precise number for me?"
He hand, still shaking and weak, held up four fingers.
"Good. Thank you for telling me." He gently patted his back, firm but assuring. "You know, little guppy, I have a surprise for you?"
Vincent sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Is it a good one?" He spoke quietly and raw. Alastor made a face and reached for the box of tissues on the side table. He plucked one out and gently wiped Vincent's face.
"A very good one."
Just as Vincent had a little flicker of excitement, his stomach cramped painfully with a loud rumble. He whimpered, face crumpling again.
"Hm. I did some research last night, read some very handy books about regression, especially about those yucky pills you've been taking." Alastor pointed to the pill bottle that Vincent winced just from the sight of. "They make eating hard, don't they? When you take a lot of them?"
Alastor brought his hands over his ribs and smoothed his palms over the bones. "Just as I thought. You've gotten thinner as a result."
Vincent's eyes burned fresh with tears. "I'm sorry." He whined.
"No, no, dear, I'm not mad at you." Alastor gently brushed some of his hair from his face, "I just worry about you. You are my closest friend and most skilled partner. I want you big and strong, not weak and hungry. Did you take those pills today?"
Vincent lightly shook his head, wincing at his pounding headache. "No."
"Good. That's good that you didn't. You've had my cooking before. Would you like me to make breakfast?"
Vincent's whole body perked up at that. Alastor's cooking was delicious. He nodded his head.
"I'll let you choose then. Do you want your nice surprise first? Or breakfast first?"
As much as Vincent wanted food, he couldn't help but wonder what his surprise was.
"Surprise!"
"Okay, dear. You surprise is in the car. Can you wait here while I go grab it?"
Vincent squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. "Alone?"
Alastor hummed, eyes darting around the area until they landed on the remote. He picked it up and examined it, eyes furrowing on the object. He pressed buttons, none of the right ones, and grumbled with frustration. "How do you work this blasted thing?"
Vincent giggled. He could be so silly. Tvs weren't hard! He grabbed the remote and pointed it at the tv, turning it on.
"Like that!" He proudly instructed.
"Good job. Aren't there little cartoons playing this morning? Would you like to watch those?"
Vincent nodded and selected the cartoon block, watching as 'Tom and Jerry' came to life on the screen. He smiled wide, already loving the silly music and slapstick comedy.
"Just sit tight for a moment, I'll be back shortly."
Vincent didn't even look away as Alastor stood up to leave, and nearly missed him snatching up the pill bottle on his way out.
He laughed at each cartoon gag, eyes glued to each dynamite blast or silly sword fight.
He felt... better. Instead of trying to see through the muddy water, he was simply closing his eyes and relaxing in the lake. His shoulders were slumped down and his jaw was loosening from its iron-tight clench.
Soon the front door opened, signaling Alastor's return. Vincent looked up to see him carrying in two brown grocery bags. He gasped excitedly.
"For me?"
Alastor smiled fondly. "The bag in my right hand is all for you. The bag in my left is for me." He entered the living room and sat the bags down.
Vincent was practically vibrating. "Can I open?"
He pushed the bag to him and nodded. "Yes, you can open."
Vincent plunged his hands into the bag, gasping when he felt something soft and plush amongst other things. He grabbed the soft thing and pulled it out, his eyes lighting up at the sight.
A big blue shark stuffie! It was so soft and fuzzy and blue! He loved blue!
"Do you like it?"
"I love it!" He answered immediately hugged it with all his might, shoving his face into the fuzzy fur and smushing it around. "Can I name it?"
"Well it is yours, is it not? You may name it whatever you like."
After a good deal more face rubbing, Vincent pulled away to give this a great deal of thought. As he quickly ran his hand through the fur, he saw a little spark of light. Static electricity!
He looked around and spotted the metal of the side table lamp, gently slapping it and flinching at the loud static shock.
"Shocky! His name is Shocky!"
"What a wonderful name. Would you and Shocky like to go through the rest of your gifts?"
"Mm-hmm!" He nodded and began digging through the bag once again.
Next was a set of pajamas. Thin, stretchy, and covered in bright colorful sealife.
After that was a set of coloring books and crayons. A lot of crayons! There were even two tonka trucks and a whole set of play-doh!
"Thank you!" He said as he immediately started unboxing his crayons.
Alastor stood and lightly patted his head, making him giggle at the friendly contact. "You're quite welcome, dear. Now, you keep yourself busy while I cook breakfast. Can you do that for me?"
"Mm-hmm!" Vincent was already flipping through the first coloring book titled 'Under The Sea', barely registering Alastor grabbing the second bag and walking away into the kitchen.
He quickly found the perfect first page. It had a big shark with sharp teeth just like Shocky! He turned his crayon box upside down and dumped it onto the coffee table, quickly scanning the mess for the perfect colors.
There were so many! And a lot of them were blue! Cerulean, teal, aqua, navy, they all went in their own special pile for the best colors.
He positioned Shocky on the table to watch as he colored him and to get a better look at the colors of his fur. Navy matched his top while cerulean matched his bottom.
Crayon to page and he was off, rapidly rubbing his utensils into the paper to make sure there was no white space left. After the shark was perfectly blue, he had an even better idea. He grabbed the brightest red crayon and scribbled it on his teeth. There! Shock was a big scary predator. He just ate a bunch of seals!
After Shocky, he started coloring in the coral and seagrass in the background. Pink and green, easy enough.
He was distracted from his masterpiece from the smell of bacon and the sound of it sizzling in a pan. His stomach churned, cramping painfully in his middle.
Usually Vincent had quite a lot of pain tolerance, but he couldn't remember that through the fuzziness in his head. It hurt. It hurt a whole lot! He didn't like that it hurt! It's not fair!
It wasn't long before he started crying again. He held Shocky to his chest as he sobbed. Why did it hurt?! He didn't want it to hurt!
"Guppy? Are you alright in there?" Alastor called worriedly.
Vincent shakily stood up and walked to the kitchen, clutching Shocky like a lifeline. Alastor was stood in front of the stove, looking back at him with concern.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"Hurts."
"What hurts?"
"Belly."
Alastor nodded in understanding. "You haven't eaten much of anything in some time. Would you like a snack to hold you over until breakfast?"
Vincent sniffled and nodded. Alastor walked to the the bag on the kitchen table. He shuffled through it before pulling out a box of Cheerios and a container of paper plates.
"Go wash up, first. I won't have you eating with messy hands." Alastor said as he began pouring the cereal onto the plate.
"Can I bring Shocky with me?" Vincent whimpered.
Alastor looked to him with a gentle smile. "Of course."
Vincent anxiously shuffled with his plushie to the bathroom to wash his hands. He also washed Shocky's fins while he was there and then walked a bit quicker back to the kitchen, eager to be with Alastor again.
As soon as he was back, Vincent was handed a plate full of dry cereal.
"Sit there and eat. This'll help you wait until breakfast is ready which should be soon."
As Alastor turned back to the stove, Vincent sat in the chair, still sniffling.
"Thanks you, Alster- Alusir.. Alatser..." Vincent pouted. His lips weren't forming words the way he wanted. He shoveled some cheerios into his mouth to calm his upset stomach whilst he tried to keep from crying again. The snack definitely helped settle the discomfort. Good. He didn't like the hurt. Bellies shouldn't hurt.
He angled Shocky to have a snack too, repeatedly pressing its nose into the plate so they both could eat cereal together. Between the two of them they quickly finished off the plate of cheerios.
"Done!" Vincent proudly said, holding up his empty plate.
"Well done, Vincent." Alastor said without turning from the stove. He clicked off the heat and began scraping the food from the pan onto two plates.
Vincent was near vibrating with excitement. His stomach still hurt but it was the hungry-hurt not the icky pill-hurt. Al was a great cook. Even the smell had him near drooling.
Alastor set down the steaming plate in front of him with a fork and knife.
"Thanks you Alstuhir-" Vicnent furrowed his brow and blew a raspberry to show how mad he was at his words not working. Alastor chuckled and politely began eating from his plate. Meanwhile Vincent began shoveling eggs into his mouth like he was starving, which he felt like he was.
"Be careful. I don't want you dropping your breakfast onto the floor, alright?"
Vincent swallowed his oversized mouthful and nodded before starting again a bit slower this time.
After Alastor had had a few bites he simply watched Vincent with a soft smile. When he noticed he was being observed, Vincent giggled nervously under the attention.
"When you're little, I think I like calling you 'guppy'. Do you like it?"
Vincent squirmed, feeling a little shy and nodded with a slight flush.
"Would you like to call me Alastor when you're little? Or would you like to call me something different?"
Vincent took a large bite of bacon and hummed. "Hmm... I dunno."
"It's quite alright." Alastor took another bite of egg and swallowed. "Whatever you decide, I promise I won't be upset."
Vincent stared at the table and spoke quietly. "Um... Papa?"
Alastor's grin grew, a small sparkle in his eye. "I think that will do quite nicely. I like that title."
Vincent gasped excitedly. "Really?"
"Yes, guppy."
Vincent kicked his feet happily and went back to devouring all the food on his plate. He could barely even remember why he had been crying earlier. Now he had a new stuffie, a new papa, and yummy food cooked by his awesome papa.
Today was a good day!