Hello all and welcome to another The Loud House fan fiction. I hope you enjoy it and feel compelled to continue reading as the story continues.

* The Loud House is owned by Nickelodeon.
* I do not claim ownership of it.

Warning: This fan fiction contains strong language as well as possible future references to substance abuse and sexual conduct. This fan fiction will NOT feature any form of pedophilia or underage sex.

Note: I do not mind negative feedback.


Chapter 5: The Packing Continues... More? Really?


Next door at the Loh residence, the day had started with the sound of metal clanging. Lynn Jr. was elbow-deep in the garage, effortlessly tossing aside basketballs, cones, a broken elliptical, and an old punching bag in her pursuit of one thing…

"Dex!" She bellowed. "Did you move my footlocker?! You know, the one I had?!"

Dexter flipped up his welding glasses. He'd been busy working on something that resembled a makeshift rocket engine, though much smaller in size. "Hm. I think I saw Lacy drag it out into the backyard one day. Not sure what she was going to use it for."

Lynn gave her husband of almost twenty years a look that screamed, 'And you didn't stop her?'

The large man shrugged as he flipped his mask back down. "I thought it best not to get involved."

It was a good thing Dexter couldn't see her just then as Lynn was miming strangling him. "Damn it, Dexter! That was my memorabilia locker!" She yelled over the welding noise, but went unheard.

Lynn had somehow managed to find the one man on Earth not fazed by her anger. Which ironically, just made her even angrier — until she reminded herself how lucky she was to have someone who didn't bend at the knee every time she raised her voice. Sure, it would be easier if he just gave in once in a while... but where was the fun in that? And anyway, Lynn Loud Jr. wasn't the type to settle for a pushover.

With a roll of her eyes, Lynn finally managed to temper her frustration and went off to look for their daughter.

"L3!" She called poking her head into the young teen's room. Empty. "L3!" She yelled again, wandering through the house.

No answer.

"Where could that girl be?" Lynn groaned as she stepped out the backdoor. Her eyes narrowed. The door to the old garden shed was slightly ajar. That was where they kept their gardening tools and weed killers. She was pretty sure she'd locked it. "She wouldn't... would she?" Lynn muttered, heading across the yard toward the shed.

Inside, she found a makeshift gym pieced together from scrap scattered from around the house. And right in the center was her footlocker, now serving as the bench for a homemade bench press setup.

"Lacy Lynn Loud, what the hell are you doing with my stuff?" She asked pushing the door fully open.

"M-Mom?" Lacy asked caught mid-rep and looking sheepish as she glanced toward the doorway.

"Of course it's me. Who else were you expecting? Your dad?" Lynn asked, knowing full well her husband would never set foot in the garden shed. He didn't do… grass. "Now. Talk."

"I can explain." Lacy said looking around at her custom gym setup.

Lynn eyed the various rigged-up exercise contraptions scattered around the shed, her gaze settling on a pair of tubs filled with plant killer tied to either end of a garden rake to make a makeshift barbell. "Is that..." She muttered as she stepped closer. Her face twisted with disbelief. "Damn it, Lacy! What were you thinking?!" She barked, spinning toward the young girl.

"I was just trying to work out, like you," Lacy said, her voice small as she stared at the floor. "I wanted to get stronger fast so I could surprise you. I know you said I wasn't allowed to use your gym equipment without supervision, so I thought I'd just make my own."

Lynn crossed her arms. "How'd you even get in here? It was locked."
"I…" Lacy hesitated. It had been Lupa who picked the lock for her, but she didn't want to drag her cousin into it. "I picked the lock."

Her mother doubted this, but she decided she'd check the lock later. "Lacy… L3…" Lynn sighed, rubbing her temples. The anger was already draining from her. "Come on. Scoot over. Let me sit down." She nudged Lacy aside and dropped onto the old footlocker with a heavy thud.

They sat there for a beat, the smell of dust and fertilizer thick in the air, before Lynn finally spoke again.

"Look, I don't have a problem with you wanting to work out. Hell, you wouldn't be my daughter if you didn't have that stubborn need to push yourself. But this?" She motioned to their surroundings. "This is dangerous. There's a reason we keep this place locked up. You could've gotten seriously hurt… or worse."

She stood up and grabbed one of the tubs of plant killer, setting it safely out of reach on a high shelf. "Your father can't even handle half the stuff in here. Trust me. He tried once. We ended up calling an ambulance." Lynn snorted softly at the memory.

"I'm sorry, Mom." Lacy said, wrapping her arms around Lynn's waist and squeezing tight.

For a second, Lynn stayed stiff — trying to act tough — but eventually she let out another sigh and hugged her daughter back, giving her a firm squeeze. "Next time you need a spotter, just ask, OK?" She said, ruffling Lacy's hair with a tired smile. "Strength's not just muscle, kid. It's knowing when to ask for help too. That's a lesson I had to learn the hard way."

After a moment, Lynn pulled away from the hug, her hands lingering on Lacy's shoulders as she turned her attention back to the footlocker.

She walked over and crouched down, unlatching the heavy lid, her hand brushing over the worn surface. Inside, she found a trove of old "treasures" she hadn't thought about in years. A few faded jerseys, some dusty trophies, and right at the top, her lucky high school whistle.

Her fingers hovered over it for a second. She hadn't used it in ages, but it still carried a bit of magic. Her team had given it to her when she broke both her legs as a way to still be part of the squad. She might not have been able to play, but hell, she could still help coach. The sound of it as she ran drills, the feeling of commanding the team even from the sidelines. It was still with her, a reminder of who she was and what she could accomplish on and off the field.

Lynn smiled softly to herself, almost as if the whistle had a voice of its own. "It's been a long time, good buddy." She muttered, slipping it around her neck. She didn't know it yet, but she'd need all the good luck she could get on the trip.


To be continued...