Clark frowned as he swiped through page after page of content. He grew increasingly frustrated at the fact that none of the documentaries he encountered caught his interest, his search for the perfect title made all the more difficult by the colorful cartoons that seemed to always be teasing him from the periphery of the page. In fact, all it took was one misguided jab with his stubby finger for Clark to accidentally choose one such show. The toddler moved to close the window but froze at the rush of delight he felt when studying the bright hues of the preview and the big smiles on the faces of the animated dogs that made up the cast of characters. He dug a tiny toe into the carpet and bit his lower lip in contemplation, the cartoon looking more and more inviting the longer he stared at it.
Wait a sec, he realized, didn't Nick say it was okay to act like we're actually little? Clark cast his thoughts back to the conversation of the night prior, screwing up his cherubic face in adorable concentration as he tried to recall just what had been said between them. Though the actual words proved elusive, Clark remembered he and Nick agreeing that they should embrace their temporary childhoods. He saw no need for that to change just because he'd gotten littler, and so he grinned cheekily - delighted with himself for having concocted a loophole - as he poked at the screen again and started the show.
Nick cast a worried glance over at Clark when he heard the cartoon's cutesy opening theme blaring from the tablet. The toddler, immediately engrossed by the fast-paced but non-threatening action of the superhero pet squad, didn't even bother to climb back up on the couch. He simply plopped onto his bottom without ever taking his eyes away from the screen, not at all aware that Nick was studying him with growing concern. Eventually he returned to his work, cursing under his breath as he did so at having completely discounted the toll their physical regressions could take on their mental states. If it was hard for him at 11 to focus on repairing the gun, Nick could only imagine how difficult it must be for Clark to keep thinking mature thoughts. He considered suggesting to Clark that he watch something else, but the bigger boy decided his time was best spent on the gun - all of these ancillary concerns would go away once everyone was back to their original ages.
And so Nick absorbed himself in his work until the opening of the front door alerted him to Wes' return, the 11-year-old sighing and rubbing his eyes as he rose to meet the teen. Though he'd been dimly aware of the sounds of the cartoon in the background, Clark himself hadn't made a peep since settling in to watch. Nick's heart melted when he looked down to see that the toddler was now laying flat on his tummy, rounded chin in his tiny hands and his itty-bitty bare feet kicking idly in the air above his adorable little tush. The two-year-old was too cute for words and no longer seemed the least bit concerned by his reduced age or state of dress, and so Nick declined to disturb him as he stepped into the hallway and came face to face with Wes.
"Whoa! Hey." Nick jumped back a step, startled - he'd forgotten just how thoroughly Wes towered over him now. "Did you get everything we need?"
Wes opened the shopping bag so Nick could look inside, the 11-year-old's expression going grim as he studied its contents.
"All right." Nick exhaled. "I'm really sorry to ask this of you, Wes, but do you think you could, um..."
"Absolutely not." Wes insisted as he sharply drew the bag shut. "No. No way. Not happening."
"Wes, please." Nick entreated the adamant young adult. "I can't look after him since I've still got to work on the gun, and frankly, I wouldn't have any idea what to do anyway. You're older than me or Clark - I mean, usually - so you've gotta have some experience with this sort of thing, right?"
Wes sighed and rolled his eyes in perfect eighteen-year-old disdain. He knew that Nick was right but he'd die before admitting as much. His eyes wandered over the boy's skinny shoulder and settled on the toddler laying tummy-down in the middle of the floor, the tiny tyke seemingly unaware of anything but the silly cartoon he had completely lost himself in. The man turned boy turned teenager felt his defenses crumble as he studied the unbelievably cute and carefree little guy - Wes couldn't help but think of the young nephew he adored, so much so that he didn't even mind taking on the more unpleasant tasks involved in looking after a toddler. Still, there was a world of difference between doing it for his nephew and doing it for someone he didn't even like.
"Fiiiiiiiiine." Wes eventually relented. "But please hurry with that thing, I don't want to have to do this more than once."
"You got it." Nick agreed, quickly turning to Clark so they could get this over with as soon as possible. "Clark? Wes is gonna take you inside and look after you until I'm done, okay?"
Clark looked up when he heard his name, then looked way up when he realized that Wes - who now seemed twenty feet tall - had returned. Suddenly bashful, the blushing toddler stared at the ground as he clumsily climbed to his bare little feet. He played with his stumpy fingers and nervously glanced at Wes as he approached, eying the teen warily as he lowered himself to one knee and offered the two-year-old a big, bright smile.
"Hey there, buddy." Wes offered, awkwardly. "Is it, uh...do you mind if I pick you up? It'll be for just a sec, promise."
The toddler's expression soured and made it very clear just how unimpressed Clark was with that offer. He looked uncertainly at Nick, who stood behind Wes with a beseeching look that asked the Clark to trust the teenager the way he would the preteen. Though Clark still looked less than thrilled he gave Wes a tiny nod just the same. The reward for his trust was Wes plucking him off his feet even more easily than Nick had, the two-year-old squeaking in surprise as he was swept up into the young man's comparatively massive arms. Clark's unease faded as he was carried down the hall, delighted despite himself at the way Wes bounced the little boy's bottom on his strong, hairy forearm. Every bit of it came rushing back, though, when Wes laid Clark out on his bed and, with terrible purpose, reached into the bag of supplies - when he pulled out a pair of Pampers Cruisers that were just Clark's size.