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the-universal-sun · 1 month ago

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Can we see stan regress after ford punches him when he gets out the portal and ford instantly remembers stan regresses ?👀

(Think of this as in the same AU as the teen regressor Stanley, a different one from Ford finding out Stanley does it when they’re old men. But. Guys, I will be so honest when I say I started tearing up during this one. It's a bit sad, but I mean, your brother who was your caregiver 40 years ago tackles and punches you, there's going to be some sad thoughts there, right? I hope it's not too sad for you guys, though! I left it on a happy note, and I think there's room for a way fluffier pt 2 if the requester gives their permission! Speaking of, thank you, @thehessianslady for your request! I hope I encapsulated your vision! I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it!

I'm always open to helpful advice on my writing!)

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Stan had waited 30 years for this moment. The moment he’d finally get his brother back had been 30 years in the making. Truthfully, he’s waited closer to 40 years, but he’s been working on this portal and fighting back the temptation to give up for 3 long decades. He’d waited so long to be reunited with Ford, his twin brother, his Sixer, only to be thanked with a punch in the face and tackled to the ground. Stan’s face and back were left aching within minutes-his chest, too, by the realization that Ford must have truly hated him still, enough to hit him. The years of isolation and regret he had in the confines of his mind began to unravel, the weight of pent-up emotions crashing over him like waves. These thoughts and feelings had caused the beginnings of Stan’s drop into his headspace, the fuzziness creeping in the edges of his mind. It had been slow enough that he could still act normal around Soos, the kids (he doubted Ford would even notice) while he and Ford explained the incident and the major history leading up to it, but Stan could slowly feel it take over. The noises and lights blurring around him at times, his slower processing, the familiar sensation of regressing (thanks to the internet he had finally understood what was happening to him) that had been creeping up since Ford’s outburst started hitting him like a freight train. He was lucky enough that the kids were tired from all the excitement of the day, from the FBI to the portal, and were ready to go to bed, he'd been so close to dropping that he snapped something at Ford-he couldn't remember what exactly Ford had said to get him so upset, but he knows it caused the ache and anguish in his chest to increase. He'd quickly retreated into his room and undressed, pulling on an old sweater of Ford's he had found-his brother may hate him, but he still found comfort in his clothes and items.

All of that leads to where he is now, cuddling Poindexter and huddled in his blankie on the floor, too tired to make the trek to get up on his bed. His emotions transformed into a cocoon surrounding him, the familiar feelings of his regression wrapped around him like his teddy bear quilt, keeping him snuggled and warm, safe from the cold and harshness of the world outside. He stopped fighting so hard to be the adult he had to be- the protector, the boss, the uncle-and retreated into this simpler and safer place, where the weight of his regrets and past didn't crush him. He needed one more thing, however, something that hadn't seen the light of day in almost 40 years. He dug out an old box from beneath his bed, the cardboard old, stained, and falling apart. The flaps holding it closed were either gone or halfway torn off; he dug his hand end, knowing instinctively where his precious item was, despite not having seen it for decades. His hand leaves the box clutching an old and beat-up orange monkey, a button eye missing, but in surprisingly good shape for how cheap the thing was. It was his Mookie, his little orange monkey Ford and he had won at a fair when they were still teens in Jersey, it was his old stuffy, the one he used to clutch to his chest and chew on when he regressed as a teen-his "Mookie Time" as Ford called it back then, both them and the world largely unknowledgeable on the act of regressing. He kept it when he was kicked out, but he couldn't bring himself to hold it again, the memories too painful, the visual bringing him more pain than comfort. He was happy when he got Poindexter, the handmade teddy bear being his first comfort item since he was 17 and one he carried with him everywhere. But with everything that's recently happened, with his brother being back, he needs to see Mookie, to hold him, to introduce him to Poindexter, and apologize the best way he can for leaving him isolated, all sad and alone, for 40 years.

The old toy smelled a bit musty, like dust and leather, but Stan crushed the stuffy against his chest anyways, hugging both of his stuffed friends close and rocking, small whimpers escaping his throat as he allowed himself to cry, to truly cry, for the first time in years. To cry about Ford and their relationship, how he used to care for Stan, they were best friends and best brothers, and now he has no one, hasn't had anyone for most of his life. He allowed himself to sob, trusting that Dipper and Mabel couldn't hear him from the attic, not with his door closed. He allowed himself to indulge in being little, really being in his headspace, for the first time since summer began. He wrapped his blankie tighter around him, wanting for the pressure of arms. But he couldn't have arms around him to hug him, he could never hope for that anymore, because he had nobody to love him anymore, and why would they? He's just a stupid baby, an idiot who clings on too hard to people and things. Nobody would want to hug a freak like him, someone who feels too small for the world and their body like he does. He wants Sixer, he wants him to hug him and kiss his forehead again, to soothe him against all the meanies outside, but he'll never have that again-

"Stanley?" He stopped short, his aching moved down to his tummy at those words. Sixer? But his door was closed, wasn't it? Oh, Stan thought, looking up, he guess he didn't close it all the way. He doesn't know what to do, he wants the comfort of his brother, but his brother hates him now, and now he's kind of scared of Ford, he doesn't want to get yelled at again. He hates being yelled at. He meets Ford's eyes, the man standing in the cracked doorway, his frown and angry eyes smoothing when he glances down at Stan's arms. Did he see Mookie and Poindexter? Was he going to be mean to Stan, now, for not being able to be a big boy? Out of instinct, Stan huddles down and rolls under his bed, tucking himself in until his back hits the wall, causing another whimper to escape, his back still hurt from when Ford tackled him and his heating pad is all the way up on top of his bed.

"Stanley? I know you were crying, I-" he hears Ford's boots stomp to his bed, he sees them stop a little bit away, shuffling. Ford doesn't speak for a long time, Stan doesn't know what he's thinking about. The sigh he hears has him flinching, though. "You're still having "Mookie Time", Lee, after all these years? I didn't think he would have lasted as long as he has." What does that mean!? Does Ford think Stan couldn't take care of Mookie? That he wouldn't still need this? Ford was obsessed with triangles, a stupid shape. He doesn't get to judge Stan. Not that Stan can say any of this, but his tongue feels like that time he ate a cotton ball, thinking it would taste like cotton candy. It didn't. It just made his mouth feel gross and dry and his tongue thick. He just watches as Ford's shoes get closer and closer to his bed and hidey hole, getting his clean floors all dirty with the weird and gross other dimension mud Ford had on his boots.

"Stanley? Are you alright down there, you haven't fallen asleep, have you? It's not good to sleep on the floor at your age."

Stan curls up as he sees Ford kneel and peek under the bed, he's not angry looking anymore, but he doesn't look happy? His mouth is doing a weird "smile/frown" thing with his eyebrows raised high on his head and he doesn't know what that means. Ford reaches a hand underneath the bed and towards Stan. He flinches, burying his head in his stuffies and hiding away from Ford. Is he going to hurt him again? Call him mean names like "Knucklehead", like what Pa' called him? Stan doesn't know. He doesn't know his brother anymore, he's been traveling for so long through different and meaner dimensions, what if that changed him? Does he think Stan's a stupid baby now like Pa' always said? The thought makes him reach up and rub his cheek, the one Ford punched earlier. His ouchie hurts even more at the thought of Ford treating him like Pa' once did

"Lee?" Ford's voice sounds small and croaky, kind of like a frog croak. Stan brings his head out from behind his stuffy friends, looking at Ford. And it confuses him. His brother's got a really big frown on his face, his eyebrows are scrunched up really tightly, but in a sad way, not a mean and angry way. He's pulling his hand back, his fingers curling up in a way he hasn't seen in forever, not since middle school, probably. Stan's never seen this expression on Ford before, and it makes his tummy do bad flips, he doesn't like Ford looking like this.

"...'M sow-rry..." Stan tries his best to speak properly, his "r" sounding more like a "w" and his voice soft, like a whisper. It's hard to speak when he feels little, when his mouth feels like a cotton ball. But he has to apologize. For what? He doesn't know, but hopefully Ford does so then he can stop looking at Stan like that and making his tummy do bad flips. He doesn't think it works because Ford drops his head, almost touching the ground with it, and just shakes it, mumbling something Stan can't understand. Is it an alien language? That'd kind of be cool.

"No, Lee, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I-I...I shouldn't have hit you like that. That was...You were...the portal..." Ford can't finish his sentence, scrunching his eyes together like he was thinking really hard. He lays down on the ground, not under the bed like Stan was, but on his side and facing Stan. They stare at each in silence again, Ford's eyes looking all around his face, stopping at where Stan's ouchie was. This makes him want to hide his face away again, but he doesn't. He still wants to look at Ford, really look at him. He hasn't done that in so long. Stan still misses him, even if he did hurt him and say mean things to him, and wants him to leave. Ford looks at his hand again, and lays it flat on the floor under the bed, not reaching towards him like before, but not curled into his body.

"I shouldn't have reacted like that. I-I was just so angry and upset because I almost had him, I almost defeated Bill." The triangle guy? "But the portal activated, and I had to go through it before Bill could get to it. And I just," Ford sighs and shuts his eyes tightly, gathering his thoughts before he could get too frustrated and lash out again. "I was angry, and I took that anger out on the first thing I saw. On you. And that wasn't right of me, I should know better. You should have known better than to rebuild the portal-No. No, I'm not blaming you for my actions, that would be remiss of me. I just-I'm no good with words Lee. Not when trying to apologize, it seems." Here, Ford just looks at Stan again, he's not smiling or frowning, but he looks gentle, almost like he did when they were still living back in Jersey.

"While I'm still am-upset at you for rebuilding the portal, I shouldn't have hurt you, Stanley. I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that, I shouldn't have acted like that, it's below me-below us. Please don't be scared of me. Because the truth is- I have missed you. I've missed you for so long, and I missed taking care of you in this way, too. If you'd have me, if I haven't broken your trust in me too badly, I still want to take care of you during your Mookie Time," Yep. Stan still hates that name, he likes the terms "regression" and "littlespace" much better. "And I see you've gotten another friend. I'd love to meet him, if you're up for it, Lee."

Ford doesn't say anything after that, leaving Stan to think. Sixer did apologize for hurting him, even though he's still mad at Stan, he can work with mad and not hate. Can he trust Ford? He's never been the type to bully others, mock maybe, but never about serious things, about things that make people "freaks". He's never been mean when Stan regressed as a teenager. But this is a grown-up Ford, who knows what he's like? Stan certainly doesn't. But...Ford also doesn't know Stan, not like he used to, so he could still end up not liking him after getting to know him again. This is a lot of grown-up thinking that he'd rather not do, he wants to continue to drift all floaty, but he misses Sixer so badly, and if he says he still wants to take care of him, then maybe Stan can work up that trust again. He doesn't think he can let his brother hug him or brush his hair back for now, no matter how much he wants to. And that's not just because of what Ford did, Stan hasn't had a nice touch in so many years, he's lost count since the last nice hug he got. But, he thinks he can hold Sixer's hand, at least. He thinks he needs it to get out from under his bed, his back is starting to ache even more and he wants to lay on his heating pad and special pillow.

Stan thinks that, maybe, he can hold Ford's hand, that he can learn to trust that it won't hurt him again, that it can be soft and gentle and easy with him. He knows it will take a while, but hopefully, Ford will let him stay and they can go back to being best friends and the best twins again. He's badly missed his brother, and the ache in his chest and tummy lessen when he thinks about being cared for by him again. By being loved by him.

Stan reaches a hand out, gently intertwining his five fingers with Ford's six.

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