Epilogue: Present Day

Present Day, Lake Greenly.

"Hey. How ripped do you think I could be if I stayed in zero gravity?"

"What?"

I'm at our kitchen table, elbow deep in reading material for an upcoming lecture when I came across the article about the muscle mice. "It says here in this article," I scrolled the page on my smartphone, propped up on one of our table chairs, "this lab sent a bunch of mice into space. Half of them went without this one protein that let their muscles get extra huge. The test was to see if they'd stay jacked up in the microgravity conditions, and if the said inhibition could help astronauts avoid muscle loss as they float around inside shuttles and the space station. The mice that didn't have that muscle-limiting protein came back buff as ever."

Margalo turned from our sink to face me. And she doesn't say anything.

"Okay, okay. I didn't summarize it that well. But imagine how cool that's gotta be? To have a job where you get to leave Earth, and come back… y'know, hunky?"

As a kid, I was overprotected, and the idea of growing up and getting to see the world. No barriers, no limitations. I had had so many passing interests that when the time came to ask what I wanna be when I grow up, I couldn't actually settle on one. I wanted to do everything. But of all the careers that were actually viable to me, who knew going to space was one of them, after all?

I knew these mice were volunteer experiments, and I couldn't ignore the tedious and painful procedures done on them to get rid of the MSTN gene. Even still, I felt a little cheated. I totally coulda been one of those mice in space. Or at least when I was younger. "Heh. I told 'em so…"

I surfaced at the sound of a loud clack, and an aggravated sigh. When I looked back up at the sink, Margalo was still there with her back to me, clearing away the breakfast dishes. Pretty nice thing for her to do, considering she never had dishes to eat off of growing up, and didn't like doing it at all. Not to mention she had a class to attend the same time I did this morning. We were both teachers, now. Still, she picked up extra chores so that I had more time to prepare, and I did not take it for granted.

Another series of clacks and Margalo shut off the water, then turned around. Her yellow coat took on streaks of gold in the morning sun, poking in through the green canopy and our kitchen window. Fifteen years later, and she is still so beautiful. The way she's aged only makes her more worldly and radiant. Not like me. Any ounce of cuteness I once loathed was long gone by my twenties. My fur's not as white and soft everywhere, as it used to be. Silver, coarse patches have begun to crop up in hidden places, behind my cheek, near my ears, etc. I'd been called the name enough, but when I looked in the mirror, I really was just a fat rat, now.

Our house is nestled at the flat base of a huge tree trunk top, fenced in twisted branches that served as extra security. These trees were on a stretch of greenery that kept us quite a way's off from the next highway, and society in general. A place safe enough for animals to form westernized communities, and for kids to roam and play free in the daylight. Kids like our own.

It's so quiet here, I can hear them out there, playing in the treetops. Every distant shriek and laugh tied directly to my heart. Our kids. Our energetic, exhausting, amazing kids. If it weren't for the fact that they make a zoo of little animals, with their unique faces, feathers and furs, you'd never know they were adopted. At heart, they've always been ours.

It's then that I close my gaping mouth, close the article on my phone, and tell her nevermind. "It just… reminded me."

"Hm." Margalo tips her head to the side and gives me a sky smile before leaving the kitchen and heading to our bedroom nook for another clean, dry scarf to wear to work. As she passes by the chair, She stops and down and lightly pecks my cheek.

Eventually, I know I'll forget all about it, and maybe that's for the best. I don't want her to get the wrong idea. I never want her to think for a moment that I'm happy with how my life turned out. That I take for granted that she is still with me. That we, together, found a way to make it work.

I sat there with this warm tingle where she kissed me. Someone once told me you're as big as you feel. The future is only limited to what you decide it can be. Space may be the final frontier, but I didn't need to get there just to prove that I could. This same somebody helped me realize that.

Something overcomes me, then. I stand up and round the table, not bothering to push the chair back in.

I find her in the living room. Next to the kitchen, connected by a small hallway and bathroom. Our house was built by hand, nearly every nook and detail designed by a Little known artisan with glasses and two inch gauge-holes who refused to be credited, while I did the lifting, nailing, and woodcarving. Skylights and abundant windows give the house natural lighting during the day, while battery powered lamps do the job at night. Standing in front of the linen closet door, looking at her reflection in the floor-length inset mirror, cut from the broken shard of a bigger mirror. I slow my footsteps to a silent crawl. The new jade scarf is fastened to her neck, but she takes a long time pulling her wings away from the knot. Even seeing just the side of her face, I know that something is wrong.

"What?" I whisper so I don't startle her." What is it?"

She sighs and finally drops her wings to her sides. "They're gonna see right through me." She says to the mirror. "Aren't they?"

I step forward. "Who?"

She 'tisk'ed. "Oh, Stuart. I never wonder why kids like you. You're warm and sweet and caring." She closes her eyes and dips her head. "I'm just a bad substitute for an old lady in saddle shoes."

I close the space between us, and take the tips of her feathers in my hands. "Babe. You give me more confidence than anyone else can. Don't deny yourself the same. Look at the mirror." I point to the bird in the looking glass. "Do you know what I see there? A survivor. Someone who's overcome the odds, accomplished incredible things to get to where she is now. She has life experience that is invaluable. She's been a flock chief, and a professional con artist. She has done it all." I turn her shoulders so we're looking eye to eye. So that she'd have no choice but to hear me out. "Don't worry about what the kids will expect of you. Just be transparent. Be yourself. They'll resonate with that. I know because I do. You're funny, and brave, and brutally honest, and I wouldn't change a thing about you. And there are four kids out there who feel the same way."

I let go of her left wing and raised my hand up to her cheek. "I know I've told you all this before, and I'm gonna keep telling you until the day I die, because you need to believe it."

She smiled back at me, with narrowed eyes, which as far as I've been able to tell is her way of fighting off the formation of tears. Eventually, she moves away from the mirror, and I've got her in my arms. Her wings envelop me, feathers scented like elm trees, and I pull her close until our bodies are pressed into each other. She lays her head on my shoulder, brushing my whiskers back. The sensation tickles, and I whisk anticipatively.

It's been a while since we hugged like this. I know this body so well, and yet it never ceases to excite me, sifting her coat through my fingers. I'm a wall of muscle and fur, she's a paintbrush sweep of feathers and curves. We're so different and yet it feels like we were made for each other. Her steady breath in my ear is stirring up different emotions. She's the only one who's ever made me really feel like a man. Before she can ask what I'm doing, I've got my lips pressed against her beak. My hand reaches under her thigh and I hoist her feet off of the ground, my other arm cradling her back. She can still pick me up for around a few seconds under her own power, but she's no challenge for me to pick up now. I could hold her like this all day. As it is, I don't wanna put her down. We've kissed a hundred times or more, but it's been too long since we kissed like this. Too long since the air itself was charged with-

"GA-VIN!" Outside, another shill cry, followed by laughter, brings me out of it.

I break out of the kiss sloppily, putting her down from what had nearly become a bridal carry. "Gosh. Why is it only at the worst of times?"

She snickers and runs a finger over my bottom lip. "You started it."

The unsatisfied want aches across my body. "I guess you're right. But I couldn't help it." I look down at myself. Thankfully nothing's come of this. Dress pants don't do nearly enough to conceal certain things. "I'm glad you're not some old lady in saddle shoes. You inspire rocket fire."

"Ugh. Come on-"

"I know, I know!" I throw my hands in the air in surrender. "Corny. Sorry."

When I open the front door, sunlight barrels into the room. I squint until my eyes adjust, taking in the greenery that is our neighborhood. Margalo is at my side.

"Go for it, kid." I echo her own words back to her. "The adventure begins."

She smiled at me. Before we part, before she flies off on the unfamiliar road that is teaching, she turns and gives me this smile. The light turns her face the brightest of yellows, her expression shaped by new resolve.

It's the kind of thing that can take your breath away. Loving someone this way… it makes magic from the mundane. For just a moment, it makes stars out of the particles of dust, floating around us in this sunlit doorway.

"Save the rocket fire for tonight," Mrs. Little says to me with a wink. "Spaceman."

The End

Now here's the part of the author's note where I spam my headcanons into the wind for lack of decency:

Also must note several nods towards previous Stuart Little fanfics. I may or may not have snagged the idea of Stuart learning the guitar from "Big Heart in a Little Mouse" by Just4FunFiction. Just a solid oneshot that's best quality is that it pretty much nails the tone of the franchise. Honestly speaking, I'm silencing, gagging and dragging away the idea of Stuart playing the guitar to pass the time in the winter from Dad for my own fanfic timeline canon, 'cause it's just that good.

Although I didn't have the idea until after I already included him in A Little Compromise, in the past year I'm guilty of leaning on the idea of Mr. Little accidentally killed before Stuart and George finish high school. So that their perceivably "perfect" family has a very large and detrimental hole in it. And the boys have to shuffle and come together to support Mom and Martha after having drifted apart during their teens. There's also something to be explored about Stuart no longer having his patriarchal counselor, and suddenly being on his own on the road to becoming an adult/a man/a husband/ a family man at the worst possible time: when he's just at the cusp of all of it. Not to mention I can't help but think he'd internalize some sort of guilt over it, especially if it was the kind of sudden, villain-less accident I'm more or less thinking of, where he couldn't save his dad because he can't lift something heavy off of him. He'd be left to wonder if the Littles had chosen a human boy that day at the orphanage all those years ago, maybe Mr. Little woudda lived. Sounds like it'd make a dreary one shot, if only a hypothetical one.

I also gotta nod at "Tail of Stuart Little" for the headcanon of Stuart liking Spiderman. The main reason I like that is because it sounds accurate that the family would be going to see a lot of superhero movies for the boys' enjoyment, including the Peter Parker Spiderman movies per the era, and Stuart having an affinity for the aesthetic of Spiderman climbing the walls, since that's a talent he also has.

/headcanon textwall over.

HEADS UP for a somewhat smutty ship scene later in the fic. If that's not your thing, totally respect that. Just click away from this one.

Margalo and Stuart are 18/19 years old in that flashback, just for clarity. Actually for context, this flashback takes place the summer before A Little Compromise. Though I'm not sure I'm still going to be using that fic in canon with the rest of my shorts going forward. I have a different story/different conflict laid out in my head to replace Little Compromise that I believe is much more in tone with Stuart Little and takes more direct from the book than whatever I was going for in Little Compromise. Also, even though I have these completed scenes, I couldn't tie them together with all the context scenes which would make the story complete.

Eventually I'm gonna have to start the bigger fanfic from the beginning. I might post scenes here or there to give an idea of what I had in mind.)

IDK what to say about this one. this fic was kinda just the result of me reading too much Shatter Me and falling in love with the writing style, and wanting to write more Stuart/Margalo ship stuff. I went back and tried to tailor the words to better fit what Stuart might actually say/think. I think I'm getting better at capturing his voice in text but it still needs work (which is why I normally stay away from POV in fics if it doesn't come naturally. Although I do like telling Margalo scenes from first person POV because it gives me some nice YA book feels. And for whatever reason, now all her scenes come to me better in first person? It's hard to explain.)

This is just pure Marg/Stuart ship I cobbled together with Tom/Solara (fan characters) background info, and was able to make a cover art image for this, so I figure I might as well post it.

As far as inspiration for this fic goes, shit, I can't even remember anymore. I wrote some light StuxMar smut blurb that was themed around space and heavily high on the fumes of Tahereh Mafi's writing style, since I was just coming out of finishing in the Shatter Me series. I remember keyboard smashing for a few hours, coming back to it a few days later, thinking, how there could possibly be a scenario where Stuart and Margalo actually go to space, that still retains that grounded, realistic setting tone of the movies? (Rather than just dumping them anywhere ala the Ronald McDonald fever dream VHS tapes from the early 2000s. For years I wanted so badly to review those myself someday on Youtube but Quinton Reviews got to it first. Aww. Oh well.)

Forgive me for any typos, inconsistencies, etc. cetera issues. I tried to be roughly believable with the location and some light research into Zero Gravity flights (if it wasn't obvious I've never done one myself, they literally cost ten grand a person), but of course with the twist that this dog is pulling the strings with these secret animal flights, obviously there's a cartoony element here that's gonna keep it from being totally realistic. We ARE dealing with the Stuart Little universe here, so there's a bit of a tightrope to walk. Portraying things with rubber physics feels too cartoony and kind of juvenile, but approaching it too seriously sucks all the warmth. (I think that's what stalled me with A Little Compromise.)

This fic was also a personal challenge. One of my achilles heels when writing is staying in one character's head per scene, even in third person. That started becoming really apparent when I was writing "Find Yourself" and I was darting back and forth between Stuart and Margalo and Mr. and Mrs. Little's heads. The smut was first person POV, and I thought this entire story should be, too. The first Stuart Little fanfic I encountered was the first one listed on Fanfic, and I sat down and read the intro and thought I liked it, but the POV voice didn't sound like Stuart. Stuart doesn't speak in a poetic way, he just kinda sounds like most guys in cartoons, like SpongeBob. Yeah, he knows some big words for a kid, like dismayed, antagonize, etc. But I always thought that just speaks for how mature he is for his age, and speaks for how much he reads, too.

Not to mention I would be attempting to justify my argument that Stuart's SOMEWHAT of a more complex character than our collective retrospective disdain for the franchise would otherwise imply. While he's definitely not as complicated as Margalo could be (and if I get around to finish it, she's gonna have a dedicated origin story of her own), he's in an interesting mental position. He can very well be fleshed out, and there's a number of ways to approach it.

Some passing ideas I had were that Stuart slowly develops depression, but puts on a mask and hides it from the Littles, afraid of becoming a burden on them. Maybe a stubbornly out of touch counselor at school keeps prodding at him with uncomfortable questions about his difficulty fitting in, maintaining a long distance relationship with a girl, until the harassment in itself actually BECOMES a problem. And then it all comes to a head when something happens, either he has a panic attack or abruptly just breaks up with Margalo, or even commits an act of self harm, etc. Absolutely fucking character abomination idea here, but in the sense of "holy shit, you'd have to be a REALLY good writer to get me from point A to B and make me believe that's the same character." And that's the point of interest there. I don't think I have the skills to pull that off.
The other thing is that if either of the two boys are going through something like that, I feel like George might be the more obvious suspect. He's more quiet and thoughtful and probably more prone to keeping pain to himself. So there's that. Alternatively, if George IS outwardly going through shit, and Martha is, maybe that would give Stuart more of a reason to keep his mouth shut and deal with his problems quietly. And then you have a very close family suddenly closing off from each other, and that's a conflict itself that I wanted to explore in A Little Compromise.

Another idea is

One idea I wanted to explore in my stories was that if Stuart's George's mentor, then who was his? First impulse might be "well what if he just taught himself?" And that could be true. Maybe the village raised the child. I hadn't thought of that until after I already created Solara, and now she's so fleshed out, she just exists in my mental canon for Stuart. To me, it just makes him seem less perfect and more grounded if we attribute his good manners and nurturing personality to an impression left on him by someone else. He had no parents, so it had to be someone in the orphanage, and it seemed more likely it was a student/fellow orphan. And I wanted to flesh them out and give them just enough flaws that they themselves weren't a mary/marty sue. (Actually, now that I think about it, having his mentor be a nurturing sort of guy would be pretty progressive.)

I've got another few shorts on the way, exploring

-Stuart's first few weeks at home away from what happens in the scenes in the first movie
-Margalo's early life/how she got taken in with the Falcon (I had a Falcon POV oneshot in my head, but I've never been able to get it started. Kidna frustrating, because his POV telling the story just came to me so well in the shower once and now I can't pump it out. -_-
-Snowbell's early life? Dunno about a full oneshot, but I definitely have an idea of how he wound up with the Littles and why he's so jaded and spoiled rotten at the same time.

So yeah, if the pairing stuff isn't your cup of tea, I've got a whole slew of Stuart writing just about him and the family hopefully coming soon.
I'm thinking about opening an Archive account and uploading some stuff there, as well as non story content, such as a headcanon dump. I've made so many headcanons for this fucking franchise over the past four years.

Happy fannining! If you make it to the end, please leave a comment, I'm super curious how this one is gonna bounce off. Tear into me in the review, tell me to freak off, I don't care. Gotta get ready for work. Later.