“The Blues and the Smiles” :) [ Age regressor in Task Force Stalker / The Ghosts Unit ]
You had been with Task Force Stalker for several years now. They knew you as an asset on the field and an altogether good guy off-duty. You were small and quiet. Not standoffish, merely reserved in socialization.
But you had energy. You were constantly moving. A blur on the training grounds, practically feral when fighting. What little spare time you did have was unusually spent slamming your fists into the punching bag to blow off steam or pushing yourself to run just one more lap around the base.
The team had gotten used to it. They knew when you needed space, or when they could help by offering to spar with you. Still, you bounced your leg, cracked your knuckles and jaw, still had trouble remaining in one spot for more than a few minutes. It could be... distracting. Irritating, even. But you just couldn't stop, and the team tried to remember that no matter how much it got on their nerves.
After a grueling day of drills, the team were in the rec room. Merrick puffed on a cigar in his usual armchair. Logan was slumped dramatically across the couch, his head resting on Keegan's muscular thighs, the Sergeant's gloved hand absentmindedly petting through his hair. Kick was playing a game on his computer while Hesh watched over his shoulder. Ajax was doing situps... for some reason.
The TV was on for background noise. It had gotten put on Disney and was now showing an episode of Bluey. Hesh glances up at it. "What are we watching? This is a kid's show. Who has the clicker?"
Logan tosses the remote over. “Here, turn it to—“
“Stand by,” Merrick says quietly. The men all swivel to look at him. He pressed a finger to his lips for quiet, and then subtly nods towards you.
You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking like a child again, your eyes glued to the screen. You aren’t moving. Aren’t twitching, aren’t fidgeting. You look utterly enthralled as the little blue dog dances across the screen.
“Well, I'll be damned,” mutters Ajax. "He likes cartoons."
You apparently don’t hear them. You’re bobbing your head to the music, a small smile on your face. You rarely smile.
Logan frowns, watching you waggle your feet and hands. "What's he doing?" Hesh glances up. "He's stimming."
"What's stimming?" asks Logan, tilting his head. Sweet, innocent man.
"It's a neurodivergent thing," explains Kick. "I do it, too." "You do?" Logan seems surprised. He glances between you and Kick. "But you don't waggle your hands and feet like that." Kick shrugs. "No, but I tap my foot. Everybody stims differently." "So... is that why Y/n is always moving around?" Logan questions, the pieces seeming to slot into place. "The leg bouncing, the knuckle cracking?" "Drives me insane," Keegan grumbles.
Merrick gives Keegan a warning look. "It's just the way his brain works. Be respectful, Russ." "Sooo..." Logan looks back to where you're happily watching the tv. "Is that also a neurodivergent thing? The cartoons?"
Kick hesitates, his computer game forgotten. "I'm really not sure. Maybe he's just spaced out."
Merrick peers closely at you. "I ain't sure. He looks..." "Child-like," finishes Ajax. "Like, I dunno, a kid, or something." "Maybe he's regressing," suggests Hesh. "Y'know, age regressing. It's a coping mechanism." "I've heard of that." Merrick lights up another cigar, tapping the ash introspectively against a tray set out beside him. "Where a person goes back to a safe headspace from their childhood, eh?" Kicks nods. "I've heard of it, too. I had a therapist who specialized in it once."
"Since when do you go to therapy?" snorts Keegan.
Kick glares defensively at him. "Don't be a jackass, man. I had really bad anxiety--"
A bright, almost bubbly laugh from you cuts him off. The team's heads snap around to look at you.
Logan gives a crooked grin. "I've never seen him so happy. Should we say something?" Merrick shakes his head. "No, he needs this. Let him relax for awhile; it's been a long day for us all."
"Will he remember any of this after he... I dont know, gets normal again?" Logan sits up and shuffles forward a bit on the couch.
"He might, yeah," says Hesh. "It'll probably be fuzzy for him, or he might just wake up in the morning and completely not remember that he went little."
"This won't effect his performance on the field, will it?" asks Keegan suspiciously.
Merrick gives a low chuff. "Russ, can it. Not everything is about shootin' up the Federation." "That's our job," Keegan protests, a bit more vehemently than before. "We're soldiers. Our life is dedicated to training and fighting. The end." His voice gets a bit louder than he intends, and you glance up. Your eyes are unfocused, your expression questioningly. There seems to be an internal struggle to either snap out of your regression or just turn your focus back to Bluey.
Logan elbows Keegan hard in the ribs, glaring at him, then turns his attention back to you. "Hey, bud. You okay?" You give a silent nod. You look so... innocent. You look little. Your hair is a ruffled mess and your hoodie swallows up your slim but muscular frame. The left corner of your lower lip is being suckled in against your top teeth, almost like a pacifier. You don't even realize it.
Logan seems to think over something for a moment, then stands, crossing the room before sitting down beside you. You instantly move to lean against him. The next episode of Bluey starts up.
The team watches the pair of you. You're cuddled up against Logan like a toddler with an older brother. You feel safe. Secure. Loved, even. That's not something you've experienced in a long time.
Logan might not understand all of what regression is, but he realizes that you need to be handled a bit more gently than usual. You're not their rough-and-tumble, tough-as-nails officer he knows and respects right now, you're just a kid. In your own mind, anyway.
"You enjoying the show, buddy?" Logan murmurs, and you give a sleepy nod, your fingers curled into the fabric of his coat.
He chuckles softly, ruffling your hair. "I'm glad, bud. You tired, huh?"
"Mm... m'hh," you mumble, your voice slurring with how small you are right now. You snuggle closer. "S'eepy..."
Logan keeps you tucked beside him, practically in his lap. "You can nap if you need to, yeah? Little guys need their rest."
You try to protest, but you're just too exhausted. You lay your head against Logan's chest, your eyes fluttering shut. His hand comes up to pet your short-cropped locks.
"S'alright, bud," he whispers. "Go to sleep. I'll carry you to your bunk later, yeah?
So you do. You let out a soft, shuddering exhale, letting yourself slip into unconsciousness. You're safe with your team. They're all like brothers to you-- a dysfunctional little family of soldiers.
Merrick is watching with an almost paternal look on his face. "He's really little, ain't he?" "Looks like it," replies Hesh.
"Kind of weird." Ajax frowns. "But also sort of nice. He's finally stopped bouncing off the walls. I guess it ain't doin' no harm." "Healthier coping habit than most of us have," laughs Hesh. "Least he ain't a chainsmoker--" He gives a pointed look at Merrick. "--or as completely emotionless as a brick wall." He smirks at Keegan, who flips him the finger.
"He's almost... cute like this." Kick grins, tapping on his computer game. "I've never seen him so chill. I seriously can't remember the last time he slept. Like, at all. I was starting to think he was a vampire or some shit."
Logan chuckles. "Maybe this is exactly what he needed. To just let go, y'know?" Hesh's lips twitch up into a small smile. "Yeah. Maybe it is." "Just let him sleep, men," Merrick orders, leaning back and settling down to have one of his trademark Dad Naps. "He'll be back to being a hardass in the morning."
The team chuckles.
Merrick was probably right. But... you were their hardass. And, apparently, their very little brother.
Comment down below if I should continue this series! This is just based on my own experiences as an age regressor and is probably very OOC for the team.
