Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Mask was known for doing reckless things, and Stanley could handle most of them. Fighting crime? He was honestly proud of how much good The Mask could do. Partying all night? Irritating, but manageable.

But accepting a position as the president’s bodyguard, then being left in charge of the entire country for a day, screwing that up, and accepting bribes while in office?! That was too much, even for the patient Mr. Ipkiss.

Not only that, but the green-faced jerk didn’t even have the decency to drop Stanley off at his apartment back in Edge City. He’d stranded them both in the middle of Washington D.C.! When they got back, Stanley would be cutting down on his Mask usage severely. He just hoped Milo had enough food to last him the night.

Stanley stepped into a nearby phone booth and fished through his pocket for change. Once he found some, he put the coins into the slot and dialed. He sure hoped he remembered the right number…

The phone rang in the Douglas household on 564 Finiculì Finiculà Avenue. The ever-smiling matriarch of the family, Debbie, picked up.

“Hello? Debbie Douglas speaking,” she said.

“Debbie? Is that you? It’s me, Stanley,” came the voice on the other end.

“Stanley! Well, this is a surprise! We haven’t talked since your last birthday!” Debbie remembered.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Deb. I’ve been meaning to call, I’ve just been…busy. Look, I’m in a bit of a bind, here. I was on a, uh, business trip! Yeah. And my flight home got cancelled. So now I’m stuck here in D.C., and I’d really appreciate having a place to stay for the night? Of course, if it’s too much trouble, I could book a—”

“Not one more word, mister! No cousin of mine will be sleeping in a hotel when I’ve got a perfectly good guest bedroom. Do you need Douglas to come and drive you here?”

“I can just get a cab. I remember the address. Thanks so much, Deb, I really owe ya one.”

“Don’t be silly, we’re family! I’ll be sure to make extra pizza rolls for you,” Debbie told him. She hung up the phone, and called out, “Douglas! Duncan! Dexter! Uncle Stanley will be staying with us tonight!”

Chapter Text

“So, going to visit family?” the cab driver asked.

“Uh, yeah. My cousin, Debbie. Man, we used to spend every holiday together…” Stanley trailed off.

“Yeah, I get that. Me ‘n my uncle used to be real close, but we sorta drifted apart after he went to prison,” the driver said.

“O-oh! I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Eh, it’s alright. Your cousin’s got a house, so she’s no jailbird. What’s she like?”

“She’s got this real big smile. And I swear to you I’m not exaggerating when I say this; she never stops smiling. I have never once seen her face without that smile plastered on it! It’s kinda creepy…” Stanley described. “But she’s nice! Whenever I spent time with her as a kid, she always managed to brighten my day. While our parents talked, she and I would play together, or talk about our less grown-up problems. Now, she’s the parent. Had two kids with her husband, Douglas. His name is Douglas Douglas. Can you believe that?”

“I’m a cabbie. I’ve heard weirder names. Ya gotta blame his parents for that one. What type o’ jerk names their kid Douglas Douglas?”

“That’s what I said! The whole family’s got alliterative names. Her two boys both have ‘D’ names. Jeez, the boys! I haven’t seen them in person since the youngest was in elementary school. Now he’s a high schooler! Time really flies…”

“Welp, here’s your chance to reconnect. We’re here.”

Stanley looked out the window and saw Debbie’s familiar house. He exited the car after paying the nice cab driver’s fare. Stanley took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and knocked. The door opened to reveal a smiling Douglas.

“Well, if it isn’t Cousin Stan! How’ve ya been?” Douglas greeted, placing his hand on Stanley’s shoulder.

“I-I’ve been good, all things considered,” Stanley answered, pushing his Mask further into his pocket. “How’re you?”

“I’ve been just great. Come on in!”

Douglas practically shoved Stanley inside. He brought Stanley over to the couch and sat him down.

“You must be tired, with all you’ve been through,” Douglas commented.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Stanley muttered.

“We’ll be having dinner in just a second. I’m sure Debbie’ll be pleased as punch to see you!”

Stanley chuckled. When wasn’t she pleased? He let himself sink into the couch. Even if today was a nightmare, at least he was with family now.

Chapter Text

The Douglas family used their dinner time to catch up with Stanley. He was, admittedly, enjoying the attention. After all, how often was he the focus, and not The Mask?

“I’ve been getting a lot of use out of my computer, Uncle Stanley,” Dexter, Stanley’s first cousin once removed, told him.

Despite not being their uncle, Dexter and Duncan always referred to Stanley as such. Considering Debbie didn’t have any siblings, Stanley figured it was close enough.

“Ever since I got my Pinnacle Chip installed, it’s been running smoother than ever! It can—”

“Uncle Stan doesn’t care about your nerd stuff, ya dink,” Duncan interrupted. “I’ve been workin’ out, and I can bench 235 pounds! Impressive, huh?”

“That’s uh, very nice, Duncan,” Stanley said. “But I think Dexter was trying to tell me something?”

“Stanley’s right, dearie. It’s not polite to interrupt your brother,” Debbie scolded.

“Who cares? All he’s gonna talk about is some boring computer stuff.”

“It’s not boring! Uncle Stanley works at a bank. They use computers there all the time, right?” Dexter asked.

“Yes, we do! You’re probably better with computers than I am, though.”

Dexter smiled at the compliment. Ever since he was a kid, he’d played second fiddle to his brother. Duncan was the strong and sporty one, while he was left in the dust, scrawny and nerd-like. But when Stanley came to visit, he always made sure to pay equal attention to both of the boys. 

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Duncan and Dexter told Stanley about school, Stanley updated Debbie and Douglas about his job at the bank, and everyone had an all around pleasant time. Stanley couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a peaceful evening. Neither could Dexter, and oddly enough, it was for the same reason.

Chapter Text

The Douglas household was fast asleep. Except for the visiting Stanley, that is, who was trying desperately to find a flight home.

“No, no, I understand. Thank you,” Stanley sighed, hanging up the house phone. “That’s the fifth airline I’ve called. All the flights are booked solid! How am I supposed to get home now?” he whisper-complained, careful not to raise his voice too loud. He looked to his Mask, which he’d thrown on the guest bed. It shone green for an instant.

“Not a chance. You’re the one who got me into this mess. Why should I trust you to get me out?” he said to the wooden mask. “You’ll just harass Debbie’s family and I’ll end up right back where I started.”

Stanley yawned. Whatever he’d do, he’d figure it out tomorrow. He needed rest.

As Stanley slept, the family cat, Mr. Chubbikins, entered the room. The fat cat trotted around, looking for something to do. That’s when he noticed a brown thing on the nightstand. That could be something to play with, right? Chubbikins hopped onto the little table and bat at the wooden mask. It moved! How exciting. He bat at it again, and again, and again, until it finally fell off the nightstand and onto Stanley’s face. The Mask attached itself to its owner’s head, and his body began to spin around. Chubbikins fled in terror.

The Mask yawned, and checked his wristwatch. Which was, in actuality, a grandfather clock that he wore on his wrist. It was 4:00 in the morning. His eyes grew wide.

“4:00?! I didn’t order the early bird special,” The Mask commented. “Who dares interrupt my beauty sleep?”

The culprit was already halfway up the stairs. Whenever the kitty was frightened, it always ran to its favorite owner’s room. Unfortunately, Dexter’s door was closed. Mr. Chubbikins clawed at it desperately. Behind him, a green-faced man with a mallet crept.

“Shh!” The Mask hissed. He held his mallet up high, struck down…and missed. All he succeeded in doing was breaking down Dexter’s door. That, and making Chubbikins faint.

“Whoops! Aim was off. Welp, it’ll be much easier to hit a stationary target…”

Dexter woke up and quickly put his glasses on. Some green-faced man in a yellow suit broke down his door! And he was about to hit Mr. Chubbikins! Something as insane as this was a job for Freakazoid.

“Oh, freak out!” Dexter called.

Before The Mask had time to question why someone had just said that, he was being tackled by a blue teenager in a red jumpsuit.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?!” The Mask demanded. “That cat woke me up, he deserves it!”

“Mr. Chubbikins is a very good kitty, and I won’t let you mallet him! Who are you, anyway?” Freakazoid asked.

The Mask got up, Freakazoid getting off of the stranger as he moved.

“Well, I’m The Mask! Or just ‘Mask,’ since some people call me that. Some people also call me ‘that green-faced buffoon,’ but I don’t like that one quite so much,” The Mask introduced. “And you are?”

“I’m Freakazoid! I’m a superhero. And superheroes don’t let bad guys like you go around hurting innocent little kitty cats!”

Truth be told, The Mask wasn’t really planning on doing any real damage to the cat. If he struck the cat with his mallet, the little kitty would flatten, like a cartoon. A simple shake and he’d be right as rain. But Freakazoid didn’t know that. So the boy headbutt The Mask, and he fell down the stairs.

Freakazoid checked to see if the masked man was ok. Other than some birds flying around his head, the guy was fine. Good! ‘Cuz Freakazoid had some questions for him. He rushed down the stairs and held up The Mask by his collar.

“Now fess up! Who are you? What’re you doing here? Why do they always sell more hot dogs than hot dog buns? What’s the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow? What’s your favorite color? Do you like Rat Patrol? I like Rat Patrol. Well?! Answer the questions!" Freakazoid shouted.

“Yeesh! No need to get so loud. There’s people sleeping in here. I already told you I’m The Mask. What I’m doing here is none of your business. They sell more hot dogs than hot dog buns so that you have to buy a second hot dog bun package and have a bunch of extra buns, the money-grubbers. Do you mean an African or European swallow? I’ve always been fond of green, myself. And I haven’t watched Rat Patrol.”

“You haven’t? Well you really should, I have some episodes on tape if you wanna watch, and—wait a minute! It is too my business!”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that? It’s not like you live here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, green-face! I do live here! So ha!”

“Sure you do, kid. What, does Debbie rent out her place to little blue freaks?”

“Hey, hold on. How do you know Mrs. Douglas by name?”

Aw, shoot. The Mask couldn’t think of any reasonable explanation that wouldn’t compromise his secret identity…but he did see a door he could exit through! He tornadoed his way out of the Douglas house. Freakazoid bolted after him, fast as lightning. He wouldn’t let this weirdo get away!

Chapter Text

Stanley wrongfully believed that The Mask never had his interests in mind. The Mask actually acted on Stanley’s behalf pretty often. He’d yell at people that Stanley was too afraid to stand up to, or speak Stanley’s mind when the poor guy couldn’t get a word in. So when The Mask remembered that Stanley spoke to five different airlines, none of which accommodated him, he knew exactly where to run off to.

Despite Freakazoid’s lightning-fast speeds, he just couldn’t keep up with the green-faced man. How did he do it? The blue teen had to stop to take a breath.

“C…can we call time out? It’s past my bedtime, and I’m pooped…” Freakazoid panted. The Mask stopped, but he didn’t look tired at all. He hadn’t broken a sweat! Did masks sweat?

“Well, well, well, so much for the daring superhero!” The Mask taunted. “Sorry, kid. Maybe you’ll be able to catch up to me, oh, say, when you finish puberty?” The Mask ruffled Freakazoid’s hair. If the freak wasn’t so tired, he would’ve punched The Mask for that. “So long, blue-boy! I’ve got a flight to catch!”

The Mask spun off in a tornado again, leaving Freakazoid behind to eat his dust. 

“Aw, nutbunnies,” Freakazoid sighed. “What’s with this guy? None of the other villains I’ve fought had superpowers like that. Except Guitierrez, but he’s a weenie.”

A police car drove next to the hero, and the window rolled down. Sergeant Cosgrove looked at Freakazoid, his face as neutral as ever.

“Hey, Freakazoid. Wanna go dancing?” Cosgrove asked.

With a great big smile, Freakazoid replied: “Do I!"

Cosgrove and Freakazoid danced to a fun, Cuban beat, at a club in who-knows-where. Freakazoid talked to his best pal as he danced the rumba. Cosgrove was dancing, too. Well, he was standing in place and just barely bouncing to the beat, but that might as well be dancing for a guy like Cosgrove.

“And his superpowers might even be stronger than mine!” Freakazoid explained. “Now I don’t know where he’s going, or what he’s gonna do next!”

“Mm. Sounds like trouble,” Cosgrove said. “You said he calls himself The Mask, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, what if you took that mask off of him?” Cosgrove suggested.

“Hey, yeah! If he doesn’t have a mask, then what’ll he call himself then? The Face? That’s silly,” Freakazoid joked. “But I still don’t know where he is! All he said was that he had a flight to catch.”

“That is tricky,” Cosgrove agreed. “While you figure that out, I’d better head down to the airport. There’s a report of a disturbance down there.”

“That’s it! The airport! Thanks Cosgrove!”

Freakazoid bolted out of the club, leaving Cosgrove to dance the rest of the night. The ol’ guy deserved to have some fun.

Chapter Text

It was a busy day at the airport. For some reason, all the flights were booked. The poor employee working at the baggage check didn’t know why. All she knew was that she’d been dealing with customers all night, and was regretting taking the night shift even more than usual. She was so tired that she barely even noticed the green-faced man pushing through all the lines.

“Excuse me! Comin’ through. Pardon me! Watch it!” The Mask shouted as he cut through the crowd. He finally forced his way to the front of the line, and greeted the employee with a smug grin.

“Where will you be sending your bags to today, sir?” she asked morosely.

“Edge City, my dear woman,” The Mask replied.

The crowd behind him made general sounds of confusion and irritation. One of the disgruntled travelers shouted out, “He doesn’t even have any bags!” The Mask gave that guy the stink eye.

“Of course I have bags! What do you think I am, stupid?” The Mask commented.

Out of nowhere, he pulled out at least 100 suitcases, and threw them onto the conveyer belt. And since the belt was obviously not built to hold so many suitcases at once, it broke. Groans and general complaints sounded throughout the line.

“I am so fired,” the employee whispered. The Mask gleefully left the scene of the crime, off to cause more mischief. Freakazoid arrived just after.

“Woah. That’s a lot of bags,” Freakazoid noted. He went up to the employee, who was now crying. “Excuse me, ma’am, have you seen a green-faced man around here?”

The woman silently pointed in the direction The Mask ran off in.

“Thank you!”

At the security checkpoint, The Mask was once again holding up a line, this time by going through the metal detector over and over again. Each time he did, he took out a more ridiculous item that was causing the detector to go off. He’d already taken out an anvil, a giant TV, knight’s armor, and a chest of gold coins by the time Freakazoid arrived.

“There you are!” Freakazoid declared.

“You again? I thought I left you back at Deb’s house,” The Mask complained.

Freakazoid charged at The Mask, who swiftly transformed into a bullfighter, and dodged Freakazoid’s attack with a cape.

“Olé!”

Freakazoid growled, and jumped onto The Mask’s back. He grabbed at the green face, which caused The Mask to try and shake him off. He spun out of the airport, as to not involve any civilians, and stopped in an empty park not too far away. The sudden loss of momentum caused Freakazoid to fall off of The Mask and onto the ground. He quickly got back up, ready to fight.

“Had enough yet?” The Mask teased.

“Never!” Freakazoid cried. He rushed at The Mask, and bit his arm. The Mask shrieked in pain. He flailed his arm, but Freakazoid was stuck on him.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off!” The Mask shouted.

Now that his opponent was vulnerable, Freakazoid reached for The Mask’s mask, and started pulling. Usually, that wouldn’t be enough to get the Mask off Stanley’s face. But with Freakazoid’s super strength, it was working.

“Wait, kid, you don’t know what you’re doing!” The Mask pleaded. Freakazoid ignored him, and successfully pulled the wooden mask off. He unclenched his jaw, and turned around to examine the strange mask in his hand.

“That was a little trick I learned from my old sidekick Foamy. How’s that for a kid, huh?” Freakazoid gloated. “Wow, this mask is a lot smaller than I expected. How’d it cover your whole head? And why isn’t it green?”

Freakazoid turned back around to see what The Mask looked like without his mask. Even someone as insane as him didn’t expect to find Stanley Ipkiss on the ground, cowering in fear.

Chapter Text

Stanley woke up in a park, or something, drowsy and groggy. He could guess why. What’d The Mask done this time?

Memories began flooding back to him. The cat, the airport, and a blue kid in a red jumpsuit. A blue kid in a red jumpsuit…like the one standing right in front of him.

“…why isn’t it green?” Stanley heard the super teen say. He turned to face Stanley, and looked awfully surprised.

Stanley froze in place. Anyone with the strength to take on The Mask could easily break every bone in Stanley’s frail body.

“No way!” Freakazoid gasped. “You’re a supervillain?!”

“W-what? No I’m not! The Mask must’ve given you the wrong impression.”

Freakazoid raised an eyebrow as Stanley continued stammering.

“The Mask is a hero, r-really! He just goes off the rails sometimes. Honest! I’m gonna give him a stern talking to for all this,” Stanley explained.

“Wait, so you’re not The Mask?” Freakazoid asked.

“No! I mean, yes? I dunno,” Stanley sputtered. He took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts. “I’m not The Mask on my own. I’m just a regular guy! My name’s Stanley, Stanley Ipkiss. That wooden mask you’re holding, it’s some kind of magical artifact. When you put it on, it brings out your ‘inner self.’ When a guy like me puts it on, I turn into…well, you saw. A wild man. But he usually doesn’t mean any harm! I’ve seen other people put the Mask on. Bad people. And the person they become while wearing it...those are the supervillains.”

Freakazoid looked at the Mask, then back at Stanley. He knew his Uncle Stanley, through Dexter. Stan wasn’t a bad guy! Besides, Freakazoid knew how difficult living with an alter ego could be on somebody.

“Hm…you pinky swear you’re tellin’ the truth?” Freakazoid inquired. Nobody would break the solemn vow of a pinky swear.

“Pinky swear?” Stanley repeated. Freakazoid nodded emphatically. “Alright, sure.”

Stanley and Freakazoid locked pinkies and shook. A goofy grin spread across Freakazoid’s face.

“Ok! I believe you!” Freakazoid said. “So, can you two really talk to each other?”

“No, not really. I just scold that mask you’re holding, and pretend it’s him,” Stanley sighed. “But he knows everything I know, so he gets the message.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. I can’t talk to Dexter, either.”

Stanley chuckled. It wasn’t often he met anyone who could remotely relate to his Mask-related problems. Then, he replayed what the boy (Freakazoid, right?) said in his mind.

“I’m sorry, did you say Dexter? As in Dexter Douglas?”

“Uh-huh! I can change back to him, if you want. Freak in!” Freakazoid said, not waiting for Stanley to answer. In a flash, Dexter Douglas, still in his pajamas, returned.

Then, both Stanley and Dexter burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe it!” Stanley chuckled.

“We’re both—” Dexter started.

“And with the same—” Stanley tried to say.

Both of them laughed again. Dexter helped Stanley to his feet, and the two headed back to the Douglas house.

“If Deb asks, I’ll say you were sleepwalking, and I ran after you. Sound good?”

“Yeah. That’s a pretty solid excuse. I’m not the best at coming up with those.”

“I can give you a few, if you like.”

“Sounds great.”

Chapter Text

Since the airport was in an even worse state than before thanks to The Mask, Stanley had no choice but to stay another day with his cousin. He called Peggy and asked her to keep Milo company, which she agreed to do. After a day of futile searching, Stanley knew he’d never get a flight out of D.C. in time. So he lied to Debbie, and said he found one.

“Well that’s just great! Do you need a ride to the airport?” Debbie asked.

“Trust me, I can make it there on my own.”

“Alrighty, then. I’ll give you a bit to gather your things, and then you can say goodbye to everyone.”

Debbie left Stanley alone in the guest room. He took out the Mask and stared at it angrily.

“Listen, you. You’ve caused me enough trouble for the past few days. Either you take me home, or I swear, I will never wear this mask ever again!” Stanley demanded.

“Talking to your alter ego?”

Stanley saw Dexter standing in the doorway.

“Was I too loud?” Stanley worried.

“Nah, I was just walking by. You sure he can take you back to Edge City? The Mask doesn’t seem very…reliable,” Dexter pointed out.

“No, he isn’t. But he’ll listen to me this time. Or else.”

Stanley and Dexter left the guest room behind. Stanley hugged his cousin, pat Duncan on the back, and got his own pat on the back from Douglas. Dexter agreed to walk out with Stanley.

“Have a good time, now!” Debbie said as the two walked out the door.

Once Dexter and Stanley were far enough from the house, Stanley took the Mask out of his pocket.

“Y’know, if you ever need anything, whether it involves your blue friend or not, you can always talk to me,” Stanley said.

“I know, Uncle Stanley. It’s nice to not be the only superhero in the family,” Dexter admitted.

“I think so, too.”

Stanley hugged his “nephew,” and once they finished, he put the Mask on. He transformed into the same figure who’d been looming in Dexter’s hallway not 12 hours ago.

Instinctively, Dexter stepped back. He wasn’t sure what to think of The Mask. He knew Uncle Stanley wouldn’t hurt him, but this wasn’t exactly Stanley. With Freakazoid, Dexter trusted him not to hurt his parents or his brother (too badly) because of how good-hearted the guy was. How good-hearted was The Mask?

“Can you believe that guy? ‘I will never wear this mask ever again!’” The Mask mocked. “Pretty lousy way to treat your only transport home.”

Dexter laughed nervously. The Mask was quick to notice the boy’s discomfort.

“Lighten up, Dex, I don’t bite. Unlike some people,” The Mask reassured him. “Oh! By the way, next time your brother bothers you, I recommend an atomic wedgie.”

“Has…that worked for you?” Dexter wondered.

“No, not really. But boy, is it satisfying!”

Dexter smiled, genuinely this time. The Mask pat him on the head.

“So long, kid!”

He rushed away, once again in the form of a tornado. Dexter had to keep his hands on his glasses to make sure they didn’t fall off.

“So long, Uncle Stanley.”

As Dexter went back into his house, he was pretty sure The Mask wasn’t such a bad guy after all.