#little ford hiding away after being bullied and Stan comforts him

[littlecrow4]

I’ve a vision

Treehouse-Alex G

Stan twins

Anyone hearing me out?

[kingofthecon]

@flynnfletchr​ Stanford was doing that thing where he tried to pace a hole into the floor of their hotel room and it had become aggravating thirty minutes ago. "Ford." The slightly older twin didn't seem to hear his younger brother and continued pacing in the same spot - arms behind his back as he mumbled about whether or not he still had time to come up with a different project for the science fair. The answer? No. Not unless he could come up with something in less than twelve hours. "Ford. Please. I don't wanna knock you unconscious but so help me I will if it means we both get some sleep. It'll be fine." Stanford Pines looked towards his twin who was laying flat on his stomach at the edge of the bed with his arms beneath his head. The scowl he wore read as 'try me', and caused Stanford to slow to a stop. He looked bent out of shape, almost miserable and Stanley Pines didn't understand why. They went to several science fairs and Ford was always a shoe-in for first or second place. Maybe that was the reason why? The teenagers from Danville were competing in this particular contest of dorks and though Ford appreciated the friendly competition and the challenge that came with trying to one up the boys each year, it was clear that Ford didn't like it when he lost to them. He wasn't exactly a sore loser, but he wasn't a gracious loser either. He would put on a front, accept whatever place he'd taken, and then go back to the drawing board to hopefully come up with something even better to showcase his intelligence all while grumbling under his breath and talking like an actual super villain. Who uses the words RUE THE DAY in a legitimate conversation? "For one, you literally don't have time to come up with something else for this thing unless you decide to make a Mentos and Cola volcano using a Styrofoam cup cause that's what I have on me, and I don't think that'll even win a first grade science fair project. Secondly, you're a genius in a room full of geniuses. If you're that desperate then I can probably steal or sabotage someone's project for you which--don't look at me like that, I just wanted to make sure you weren't too far gone which brings me to bulletin three. Everyone knows that you have a high IQ. The highest IQs. The tallest mountain in the world of IQs. You don't really have to prove yourself so just relax." "Stanley, you don't understand. Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher have an extensive history with their creations. I'm just a kid from Jersey who came out of nowhere." "Sixer, everyone loves the underdog. Besides, you three practically share the limelight at these things. You guys are top brass. Nothin' wrong with a little friendly competition to keep the blood flowin'." "Stanley, you're supposed to be on my side!" "I am on your side. One hundred percent. Otherwise I would have shoved you into the hallway so I could get some semblance of sleep. Instead I'm trying to talk you out of coming up with a list of junk you could make in the next like, eleven hours. You created a functioning robot girl complete with artificial intelligence and everything. You've skipped like, a hundred of these fairs to perfect Stannabelle." "She's an android and that is not her name." "The point is that you'll probably have even Tony friggin' Stark or Bruce Wayne lookin' your way. I mean, that's part of the reason why you chose this particular science fair, right? Who knows. Maybe once you're outta West Coast Tech you'll get picked up by Stark Industries or Wayne Enterprises? Oh, what about Star Labs?" "That's why this has to be perfect!" With a whine, Stanley rolled over and allowed himself to fall out of the bed. He wasn't on the floor long; rising to his feet he made his way towards the closet where the robot girl was sitting in her charging station. If anyone looked at the bot they would believe it to be a human with Stan and Ford as her big brothers. Stanley crossed his arms and presented to Ford his own creation. "Earth to nerd. The kid's perfect." "She sounds like I installed a Speak & Spell as her voice modulator." "Okay, so you missed something when you programmed her. Just, I dunno, take apart the TV if ya gotta do somethin'. Just...you need to relax. It'll be fine." He pat the android on top of her head and closed the closet door before flopping back down on the bed. "Just...you know, do it quietly? Some of us wanna walk around the Expo and sneak into places they shouldn't." "You're going to get us kicked out." "Probably yeah, so make the most of it. I'm goin' ta bed. Try not to stay up too late. Night, nerd." "Night, pain in my side brother who occasionally makes sense when it's convenient for him." "Too long. Try again." With that Stanley pulled back the covers and spread out for sleep leaving Ford to figure out what to do. He'd brought extra parts and equipment in case something went wrong so...like Stanley had suggested, he began to work on fixing the voice modulator with parts around their hotel room. ____________________________

Morning arrived way too fast and was thus slept through meaning that Stanley woke around noon. His awakening was accompanied by a terrified scream as a face way too close to his for comfort came into focus as he opened his eyes. He rolled off the bed in his attempt to get away and orient himself with his surroundings. His fall came with a one man laugh track which caused Stanley to zero in on the culprit. "Are you alright, Uncle Stan?" a little girl with the too expressive for what should have been a robot's face asked him. Stanley, a little unnerved with the realistically human sounding voice looked passed her and towards his twin who was far too proud of himself. "Peachy," he answered as his twin tried to hide his laughter behind a six fingered hand. Stanley pulled himself up so that he was kneeling against the side of the bed. More awake and aware now he realized what this meant. He turned to Ford and he grinned at him while patting his "niece" on top of her head. "This is great! So ya managed to fix the voice issue. Good job, and nice to finally meet you, kiddo." "My designation is not "Kiddo". I am Alpha 001 - SP." Stanford had such a proud look on his face while Stanley just slow blinked at the two of them before he began moving around the room to change into his clothes for the day. "Okay, but I'm calling you Allie for short. "But my designation--" "--Is a mouthful. No one is gonna call ya that except for the uppity geeks who want to sound professional and use big words all the time. 'sides, when someone has a long name like that people usually give'em nicknames. For example, Stanford over there tends to go by Ford while I, Stanley, go by Stan or Lee." The little android was silent for a moment, most likely computing the information she'd received or something before she finally nodded her head in understanding. "Very well. I will accept this as a secondary form of address. "Excellent! You've really outdone yourself, Sixer. Allie's perfect! Though I hope you slept. Anyway, I'mma go walk around the place and get breakfast." A look to the clock had him groaning. "Or brunch, apparently. You two should get ready for later this afternoon. I'll meet you at your booth or whatever." Once completely dressed with his hair and teeth brushed, the younger twin made his way from the hotel room and sighed as he headed towards his destination. Though he was happy to be here to support his brother, he didn't really feel as though he belonged. There'd been a few times in the past where he'd gotten mistaken for his brother, but once they realized the mix-up and asked him questions pertaining to his brother's project Stanley had only succeeded in making a fool of himself. He wasn't smart. He was barely above average and in a turn of crazy events he ended up being made fun of. It reminded him of the bullies back home in Glass Shard Beach, specifically Crampelter and his cronies, but back then it was never this...bad? This humiliating? Though it didn't happen often, it did happen enough that he hated coming to these things. He'd never tell his brother though. Stanford had been teased all his life for his Polydactyly and for being the smartest person in any room. Stanley could bite the bullet of being the odd one out for a change, especially when it only happened once every year or every other year. Stanley hummed to himself as he entered the elevator which went from hotel to convention center. He rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet the balls of his toes as he mentally counted the floors as they lit up. Once the doors opened and he stepped out he found himself tripping over something. He blinked as he stumbled out of the elevator. A part of him wondered if he'd tripped over some nerds project garnering the reaction of, 'oh shit!' and 'at least that'll knock out one of Ford's competitors. When he actually looked at what he'd tripped over, however... "What the heck are you s'posed to be?" He crouched in front of the teal duck bill beaver tailed...thing, and poked at it to make sure that he hadn't hurt it. "You lost and tryin' to catch the elevator, little guy? Or are you a girl? whatevenareyou?" He moved to pick up the creature just to make sure with no regards for safety (the creature could absolutely bite him after all), but his love of animals outweighed his need to be careful.

[impishnature]

Breaking The Cycle

AO3

Rating: G

Summary: Stan's learnt over the years how to deal with bullies. But sometimes, dealing with them isn't the hard part, it's helping pick up the pieces.

AN: Pure fluff ahead. Commissioned by the lovely @nour386 who wanted some Stan and Dipper bonding/dealing with bullies. And it just ran away with me because we all need fluff now and again.

If you would like to commission me, please go here xx

.

"...Mabel?"

"Yeah?"

Stan winced at the nervous tone, the soft anxious lilt that spoke volumes to how easily she knew he could see right through them both, and that she knew exactly where this conversation was headed. He didn't even need to turn around and look at her, in fact he thought it was better this way, both of them not comfortable with the awkward stilted questioning that was about to follow. Part of him wanted to give in to the urge, to let the matter go there and then before it went too far.

...He knew he couldn't though.

Instead he squinted harder out of the glass pane he was stood at, trying to discern the small sullen figure sat on the floor, familiar hat all the was visible above knees tucked tightly into his chest, his head down and arms tight, resting against the totem pole. "Where's Dipper?"

There was silence for a poignant moment, a pause that confirmed a few of his suspicions.

Something wasn't right.

"Dipper? He's just- he needed to write some notes down in his new journal before he came in. Suddenly remembered them, didn't want to wait- you- you know how he is." He could practically hear the stretched on smile tight across her face, fake, but trying her best to power through. "Nothing else matters when he has a brainwave. I'm sure he'll be in, in a bit."

She was a terrible liar.

It was almost an offence, hadn't she learnt anything from him in the summer they'd spent here?

"That so?" He huffed, straightening up and turning to her with his own showman's smile. "Guess I'll have to go get him then. It's gonna be dark soon and if he keeps squinting at that journal of his, he's gonna need glasses like me and your Grunkle Ford." Not one of his greatest lies, but, then again, they both knew there was something afoot so why try harder than necessary?

It was obvious enough by the way Mabel's smile vanished into alarm as he walked away from her, out towards the front door.

"No- wait! Grunkle Stan."

He paused, just in case.

He knew sometimes it was best to leave well enough alone, even if he didn't always listen to the gut feeling.

"Yeah?"

"He just- he wants to be alone for a bit, that's all."

Stan sighed, hand resting on the door frame. Her voice was so forlorn, her tone filled with disappointment that her twin wouldn't talk to her when something was wrong. He knew the feeling well, his mind ticking away slowly over what could have happened. "I know, sweetie. But that doesn't always mean you should be alone, you know?" He smiled over his shoulder at her, continuing on before she could argue or agree with him.

"Stan?"

"Not now." Stan gestured at his brother as he came down the stairs, his face confused and slightly affronted at the flippant dismissal.

"I was just going to ask if you'd seen Dipper-"

"Yep, going out to get him now." Stan slipped his jacket on, buttoning it up as he flashed him a sad smile.

"Is- is he alright? What's happened?" Ford's face shifted into concern, eyebrows furrowing as he went to peek out of the window.

"Not sure, but there's something about the way he's sat out there that reminded me of you when we were kids." Stan shrugged when Ford's gaze snapped back to him. Every mention of a once forgotten memory always brought that sharp, scrutinising look, but now was not the time or place. He rolled his eyes, dispelling the sudden shift in momentum. "I didn't mean- just that I remember another kid shying away from people after he'd been caught alone by Crampelter a few times."

Not that it had happened often, he had made sure of that.

Ford's face changed, dropping sympathetically as he went back to the window. "Oh. Should I go talk to him?"

"Nah, let me deal with this." Stan flashed him a grin that did little to relieve his worries. "After all, I reckon I did a pretty good job when we were younger, didn't I?"

A sharp whistle echoed through the front lawn.

"Wow, that's quite a shiner you got there."

Dipper winced, ducking his head back into his knees, eyes barely visible between the gap as he glanced balefully up at Stan before darting his gaze away across the nearby trees. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Stan groaned as he sat down in front of him, ignoring the pain and the slightly damp grass in favour of his nephew's well being. He tried to wait patiently as Dipper's gaze flicked back to him now and then, instead giving him as subtle an appraisal as he could, hoping that he was succeeding in keeping his jaw from clenching and his fists from tightening at the grazed knees and elbows, the black eye already blooming, dark and swollen in the half light. "I'd hate to see what the other guy looks like."

There was a vicious pride in Dipper's eyes as he finally locked them with Stan's, though only for a moment. "Worse."

Stan grinned back, teeth sharp. "Good." He leaned forward, lowering his head to be on eye level with him. "Though frankly, I'd rather you didn't get into fights. That's what I'm here for." He sighed as Dipper's grip tightened, pulling himself into an even smaller ball, pushing back into the totem pole as if hoping it would swallow him up. "Listen kid, I'm not here to tell you off. I just wanna make sure you're alright, you know?"

"They were talking about you."

Stan blinked, sitting up straight again as the boy finally spoke, the words blurting out of him in a moment of vulnerability. "They did what now?"

Dipper fidgeted, uncomfortable but unrepentant as he scowled deeply, heels kicking at the mud beneath him. "Some stupid teenagers that had been dragged on a tour."

"I'm not following, kid." Stan continued to stare at him, ignoring the huff that emanated in response, a sound that wished he'd just get it and stop asking questions. He remembered a bunch of kids at the back of his latest tour, his schedule had been forcibly reduced by his family even after his memories had begun to flow through easier, not wanting him to tire himself out. He tried not to argue, knowing that the real reasoning behind it, was them wanting to spend more time together and honestly, that's all he'd ever wanted too. But that as it was, he was used to rowdy begrudging teenagers that had been dragged along to a tour they frankly had no interest in.

So what did he care? Money was money. If their parents wanted to waste it dragging them around now that the tour was back in action, then more fool them.

Besides, since the near miss apocalypse, people had been rolling into see the place where it had all happened and the people that had put a stop to it. And he couldn't help but preen under all the attention.

He wasn't about to let some teenagers ruin that. For him or the kids.

Dipper's scowl grew deeper, though there was a faint glimmer of worry in his eyes that he'd overreacted as he bit his tongue and scrutinised the old man before him.

Stan smiled reassuringly, hands up placating. "Hey, no judging. Between you and me, I'm pretty sure I've got in fights over less. You've got a much more level head than I ever had as a kid, let me tell you."

The words came out in a mutter that Stan had to lean in to catch, the boy still uncertain as he mumbled into his knees.

"They called you senile."

Stan winced. His family really did have a thing about his memory now. Even his jokes were usually met with horrified looks and a high pitch 'Stanley' if his brother was present. Not that he could blame them really, he didn't want to even imagine it any other way, with one of the kids or Ford forgetting, having to sit and watch one of them stare blankly at him, not knowing who he was- he snapped out of the nauseating thoughts back to the present and his sullen nephew. Now wasn't the time, after all it had been him, which was the best for everyone even if they didn't think so. "Alright. I think I get it. But I mean-" He gestured at himself and got a small displeased noise for the movement. "That wouldn't be the first time it's happened, and I don't need you throwing punches over something like that." He raised an eyebrow, glancing over his glasses at him. "So? What else?"

"What-?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't be sat out here if it was just that. Especially if the other guy looks worse." Stan grinned, making himself more comfortable on the grass. "So, come on. Out with it. What else happened?"

Dipper stared blankly at him for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. In any other situation Stan might have been impressed with himself for saying something that knocked the smart kid for a loop, but as it was there was a faint sizzle of fire burning through his blood at whoever had started this in the first place.

No one messed with his family, that was just a rule.

He watched hawkishly as Dipper seemed to zone back in, eyes narrowing anxiously as he bit his lip. He worried at it for a second, words obviously sat on the tip of his tongue as he struggled through what exactly to say to him. But instead of words, he gripped at the peak of his hat, shifting it down further on to his head in a nervous habit.

Stan's own eyes narrowed, the flickering flames burning a little hotter, the gesture jarringly familiar to how someone else he knew used to hide his hands behind his back.

Before he could say anything though, Dipper finally got past the lump in his throat.

"Are we a family of weirdos?"

Stan blinked at him, the boy giving a slight chuckle at the incredulous look he was getting.

"Was that a dumb question?"

"I mean my brother built a doomsday device, so..." Stan grinned as a hysterical bubble of laughter escaped Dipper, his body finally relaxing ever so slightly. He knew there was more to, knew that Dipper wasn't going to tell him every insult that the teenagers had thrown at him, but he could work with this. He could make things better again. "And I run this place." He pointed behind him, still smiling. "Hardly a normal family, right? But if you ask me..." He leaned in close, conspiratorially, and Dipper followed suit, curiosity piqued. "I'd say we're more interesting than weird. What about you?"

"Interesting..." Dipper's mouth tweaked upwards ever so slightly, just for a moment, and Stan saw a faint glimmer of a win on the horizon in it. "I like that."

"Nothing wrong with being interesting. Just means we've got more stories to tell." Stan's face dropped along with Dipper's, the end of his sentence unintentionally sparking dismay in the boy.

Dipper's gaze snapped back to him, eyes desperate and incredulous. "They didn't believe any of the Weirdmaggedon stuff, Grunkle Stan! They think it was all a hoax and that the town made it up to get more people to come here!" The words were coming thick and fast, the floodgates opening as Dipper unleashed the torrent of distress. "They said you were just senile and that the town was going along with a crazy family and their conspiracy theories. And I couldn't just sit there and listen a-and-"

"Whoa. Whoa, there."

Dipper's mouth shut at the interruption, but a few more words slipped past, his eyes still forlorn and disappointed.

"I couldn't have them thinking you weren't a hero."

Stan sighed, shaking his head. He quickly put his hand back up as Dipper shrunk inwards at the movement. "Easy, kid. It's alright. I get it, I do. I've got in fights for smaller slights against my bro, let me tell you." He tried to smile reassuringly but it fell flat. It meant a lot to Dipper, that was for sure, even if he didn't want it to mean anything to him. Kids could say what they wanted about him, none of that mattered. As long as his family was in one piece and making amends, who cared what anyone else thought? "But we know the truth, don't we?"

"Yeah but-"

"But nothing. The town knows, I know, you know. We beat that yellow triangle and everything else that came with him back through the rift and kept this place safe. We did that. You did that."

"They don't believe us though!" His voice cracked, upset and angry. Stan couldn't blame him, having to prove yourself had always been a sticking point with him too.

"You're always going to meet people who don't believe it, kid. Doesn't matter how much proof you show them. Thought you would have got that with the kinds of things you and Ford both like to research." Dipper's mouth shut at that, his face suddenly thoughtful. "But the fact of the matter is, you know the truth. And you're surrounded by people who know that you're telling the truth. If you spend your life trying to convince everyone else, you'll never get on with what you actually want to do." He leaned in again, glancing down at the grass below them. "Can you imagine if I'd tried to tell people about the portal and what had happened back then? There's no way anyone would have believed me. But here we are, and so is Ford. And that's all that matters, right?"

"I guess?"

"So, what matters, right now, is that we did do it. We saved the world- apparently." Stan grinned, tapping at his head. "And if it wasn't for you and your sister I wouldn't remember any of it."

"Mabel did that."

Stan scrutinised the boy again, watching and waiting as he continued to curl inwards, hands clasping at his hat again. He grit his teeth to stop from seething, stop the anger that threatened to bubble forth that someone- anyone, had made Dipper feel unneeded in any way, shape, or form. Now wasn't the time for the righteous anger though. Now was the time to patch up the wounds, not start another fight. "Dipper?"

He waited until the boy finally looked at him again, choosing his words carefully.

"You're an amazing kid, Dipper. You took on a dream demon. You and your sister never hesitated when it came to going to rescue family- Now I'm not saying it was the smartest move, but it was definitely the bravest. And look at everything we accomplished together. As a team." He shook his head when Dipper looked ready to argue, ready to downplay his part. "You think just any kid could have done what you did? Ford told me how you went to help him defeat Bill in the first place, then you went to find your sister and bring her home. You both somehow managed to convince a ragtag group of civilians to follow you into danger all in the hopes of saving the world. And not only that! You two succeeded. Did you ever think about giving up? Once? Did it ever even cross your mind?"

"No..."

"Exactly." Stan sat back, smiling at him proudly, watching as Dipper uncurled, eyes slightly watery and hopeful. "Like I said, amazing." He put his hand up, counting things off on his fingers. "You're smart, you're resourceful, you're brave, and once you've set your mind on something you don't give up. And that's just the things I can think up off the top of my head." He sat there for a second, mulling over words that he knew he'd have wanted to hear, years and years ago. "And I'm proud of you, you hear? No matter what happens, I want you to remember that."

Dipper's eyes glazed slightly, though he sat up straight as Stan fixed him with a stern gaze, finger pointed in warning at him.

"You're brilliant, Dipper, just the way you are. So, don't let anyone convince you otherwise, you hear me?"

Dipper's lip wobbled, front teeth biting down as he sniffed and nodded, scrubbing at his face quickly as if to hide from him.

Stan wasn't having any of it.

They'd done this song and dance before, hiding feelings, pretending they didn't matter.

Not anymore, he didn't want the kids hiding things from him or thinking they couldn't come talk to him about anything.

"Come here, you."

Dipper didn't need another prompt, he glanced back up and saw Stan's arms open wide and launched. Stan laughed as he came close to falling backwards, the force of Dipper barrelling into him almost upsetting his balance. "Easy kid, I promise, I'm not going anywhere." He patted his back reassuringly, letting him get it all out. "But I want you to promise me something in return, OK?"

Dipper stilled ever so slightly, nodding into his shoulder in way of acknowledgement.

Stan sighed again, continuing his soft pats. "I need you to promise that you won't run off into fights like this alone again. You got us, remember? We work great as a team, don't we?" He huffed, tightening his hold on him. "I don't want you getting yourself in trouble and not being able to help."

"...It was just some teenagers."

Stan snorted, ruffling his hair at the sullen words. "This time it was. But last time it was a dream demon you picked a fight with. So, you know, I think my argument still stands." He felt a rumble of choked off laughter in his shoulder and beamed at the small victory. "We've battled zombies and pterodactyls and god knows what else that I haven't quite remembered yet. But what I do remember is that when we tried to do things alone, it all went pear shaped. So, how about if I get into a fight I'll be sure to let you guys know and you do the same?"

"Yeah... Yeah, OK."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good." Stan gave him another tight squeeze before pulling back to look at him properly. "Now how about we get back inside before it gets dark and we accidentally end up on another adventure that no one will believe?"

Dipper laughed again, scrubbing his face again as he gave Stan another crushing hug. "Yeah, I think I've had enough unbelievable adventures for a bit."

"You and me both."

"That was very responsible of you."

"Hmm?" Stan looked over as Ford stood just inside the door, waiting patiently for Dipper to run past and out of hearing range before he spoke. "What was?"

Ford shrugged, smiling softly. "Nothing. Just surprised you didn't get any names and haven't already gone running off yourself to teach them a lesson. Very... grown up of you. Much more level headed."

Stan snorted. "Please, as if." He walked past him, calling over his shoulder as he went. "There's enough cameras set up in here between you and me to figure that out without stressing Dipper out more."

"Of course there is... why did I think you wouldn't have a plan?"

"Ehh, I guess thirty years apart will do that."

"...Should I be worried?"

"What? Of me?" Stan's grin turned vicious. "Why on earth would I set myself on them when I can just set their own parents on them? I'm sure between us we can come up with a believable lie... besides, I did make Dipper promise that we wouldn't go into fights alone anymore so..."

Ford sighed, jovial and jokingly dismayed. "Well, I guess I don't have a choice then."

"Please, as if you'd do anything differently."

.

AN: Honestly, writing Stan telling Dipper he was proud of him made my day. So I hope it made someone elses too! ...We should all say I’m proud of you far more often if you ask me. I try to make a habit of saying it when my friends are trying their best/having a rough time <3 always helps to know someones in your corner.

[enigmatist17]

There For You (Sea Grunkle’s and Dipper Pines)

So, I saw a comic from @moringmark (actually it was more than one and I reblogged so many instead of working on a project but sssh) and I decided to change it up a bit.

Dipper was really good at hiding tears, years upon years of ridicule from his fellow peers almost forcing him to do so. But this time was different, the thirteen-year old grunting as he was pushed to the ground, ushanka hat tumbling off of his head and at the feet of his tormentors, the bigger of the duo grinning as he stepped on it.

“Hey! Stop it!” Dipper yelled, trying to get to his feet only to be knocked down again by the second boy, the bigger one laughing as he kicked the dirtied hat next to Dipper’s face.

“You’re such a loser Dipstick!” They teased, Dipper feeling some tears welling in his eyes as he was finally left alone, some rain beginning to fall as Dipper gingerly got to his knees. The hat blurred in his vision as he picked it up, Dipper hugging it close to him as he began to cry more out of shame than his minor injuries. He hated coming back to Piedmont, he hated his school and all the people that laughed at him, he hated being the only weird person besides Mabel in this stupid town. He missed Gravity Falls and all of the loving people that he had grown to love over the summer, he missed Wendy and her gang, he missed Soos and his odd wisdom, he missed Stan and Ford and their ways they always cheered him up and made him feel as if he could take on the world. Grabbing his backpack Dipper began to walk home, coming home to an empty house as his parents were gone for their anniversary and Mabel was at a sleepover. Usually he relished the fact he had the house to himself, but today he wanted some form of comfort, the boy sniffling as he dropped his backpack by the front door, muddy shoes left by the door as he went to change into some dry clothes which made him feel slightly better.

“Waddles…I want to go back to Gravity Falls.” He muttered miserably, fishing his phone out of his backpack on his way to the kitchen, the pig following after with a confused grunt. Setting the phone down Dipper didn’t realize his thumb had brushed over the call button, Dipper sighing as he set about making himself a treat. “I miss Grunkle Stan and Ford…they would know what to do. God, I’m so stupid…”

On the other side of the phone Stanley Pines looked upset, phone held to his ear as he listened to Dipper say more and more negative things about himself. He didn’t notice his brother come inside until Ford tapped his shoulder with a questioning look, Stan handing the phone over just in time for Ford to hear something that broke his heart.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come back at all…at least I would be happy if I was dead.”

“Dipper Pines, don’t you dare say that!” Dipper blinked at the faint voice he heard, stomach dropping when he realized he had called Grunkle Stan’s phone by accident, and they had heard him the last few minutes. Swallowing thickly as his stomach seemed to drop to the pit of his stomach, Dipper put the speakerphone on.

“H-Hi Grunkle Ford…” He said meekly, turning on the video chat with another miserable feeling when he received a prompt from Stan’s side. He was greeted with a very concerned Ford and Stan looking at the camera, bother older men hissing at the black-eye Dipper sported on his left eye and the cut that spanned across his birthmark. “W-What’s up…?”

“What happened to you kid?” Stan said first, Ford studying the screen intently as Dipper shifted his gaze to the floor.

“I-It’s nothing…just an accident during school.”

“You can’t lie to a conman kid and you know it, so out with it.” Stan said a bit gruffly, feeling guilty seconds later when tears welled up in Dipper’s eyes.

“Some bullies…c-cornered me after school…they got a punch in, and ruined Wendy’s hat…called me stupid names…” The two older twins had a bit of a hard time understanding Dipper, but got the gist of what he was saying and glanced at each other. Bullying was something they knew well, and to hear it to happen to such a lively boy like Dipper hurt them both so much. “I’m so pathetic…”

“You are not Dipper, I assure you my boy.” Ford instantly replied, Dipper swallowing as he looked up to see Ford’s concerned face. “You are not pathetic in any way.”

“How am I not? The second we got back it’s been nonstop for those guys! There is no one here I can talk to, no one has believed me in years, and I hate this.” Dipper bit his lip, glancing away once again as he hugged his knees close to him, having sat on the counter to he could set the phone down on a portable charger stand. “I hate this place, Gravity Falls was the first place I felt accepted and I didn’t have to be afraid of anything, and everyone was so nice.”

“I’m sorry kid…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck nervously as Dipper hid his face behind his knees, though the trembles as he cried were not lost on the older twins. Beside him Ford was frowning, the male handing the phone over to Stan as he tore up his bunk, soon surfacing with a gleaming Journal 2 in his hands and rifling through its pages until he landed on the right one with a grin. Dipper heard the phone call disconnect, figuring it was just bad reception but made no move to reconnect the call as he continued to quietly cry. He honestly felt miserable, and the comforting arms wrapping around him as the smell of the sea filled the air were doing little to- wait what?

“We always promised you could always count on us my boy.” Lifting his head Dipper felt elation course through him at the sight of his slightly grizzled grunkles standing on either side of the counter, both looking a bit pale but held love in their eyes as they continued to hug Dipper between them.

“B-But how? I thought you were in the Artic somewhere?” Dipper stammered, his shock soon giving way to joy as he hugged them both the best he could despite being squished between them, a grin crossing his face.

“Ask Sixer, we found one of his journals since we’ve been sailing around.” Stan shrugged, ruffling Dipper’s hair with a soft laugh as they parted to allow Dipper to hop down onto the ground.

“I found a way to teleport using a simple incantation, however we can only use it once a month, and I figured now was a better time than any to activate the spell.” Ford explained as the three went to the couch, the twins looking relieved as Dipper got them something to drink. “Unfortunately it only lasts for about six hours, so our time is somewhat limited.”

“T-This is great!” Dipper smiled, sitting between the two when he returned with some hot chocolate they happily drank. “I��ll take all the time I can get.”

“That’s what I thought.” Stan grinned, Dipper soon questioning them of their travels and what they had seen, the anxiety and sadness melting from his face to be replaced with adoration and joy. This warmed both their hearts, and by the time they had to leave Dipper was feeling much better, hugging the two tightly as they stood out on the back porch.

“You have no idea how much this meant to me.” Dipper beamed up at his grunkles, the two sharing a smile as Ford knelt down to his height.

“Please don’t feel afraid to call us if you need anything at all, Stan and I have an…extensive background with such a topic.” He winced, Dipper nodding as Ford stood back up, he and Stan already beginning to slowly fade from sight as the spell ended.

“I promise I will!” Dipper nodded, a smile on his face even after his waving and smiling grunkles vanished from view. Walking back inside Dipper pulled out two gifts both twins had hidden from each other, one being a small pair of brass knuckles, the other being a rather interesting taser Dipper was sure Ford had made with non-Earth materials. “Best grunkles ever.”

Those bullies didn’t even stand a chance.

[badonkodank]

Little Comforts

ao3

Requested by: My bro. He wanted to see a little snippet of one of my interpretations of the boys’ childhood...

Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, Nineteen Sixty-something

"Come on, Bro, we're gonna be late!"

Stanley rolled his eyes at his brother's eager attitude but nonetheless picked up his pace to match Ford's jog. Only his twin would be excited about having to get up early for school, Stanley thought with a fond smile and shake of his head. No matter how much he would rather stay in bed and skip, there was no way he would let his Sixer go anywhere by himself. Besides, it was always worth getting up when Stanley saw the beaming smile that Ford reserved for him and only him.

"I'm comin' Poindexter, quit'yer whining." Stanley punched his brother good-naturedly in the shoulder and Ford stuck his tongue out in response before giggles broke out at the silly gesture, effectively ruining the feigned indignation.

"Sheesh, what's got ya so happy about class today anyway?"

Stanley watched his twin's eyes light up at the question and his pace pick up the slightest bit as the door for their class loomed into view. "Ms. Clarke is gonna be going over astronomy, and she said if we got there early I could see the lesson plan for the week and read ahead."

Stanley groaned, throwing his head back dramatically even as they stepped into Ms. Clarke's classroom. "Noooo, you're such a nerrrrd!" He grabbed Ford's shoulders and leaned into his brother so he'd have to support him. Unimpressed, Ford shook him off and went up to their teacher, who smiled warmly down at him before giving Stanley a look that had the preteen huffing and going to his seat.

He watched as Ms. Clarke and Ford talked for a few minutes but tuned out whatever nerd stuff it was that they were saying and wondered why she, out of all the teachers he'd tried to charm, was the one who hated him the most. He'd never done anything that warranted her intense loathing (after all, plenty of other kids had fallen asleep in her class, so what was one more?), he always tried his hardest to understand what she taught, even going so far as to actually listen to what Ford said when trying to explain it to him instead of just copying his notes. In her class he honestly did try, so why was he the kid she was hardest on?

Sometimes he envied Ford. Sure, he couldn't see the fun in being a teacher's pet, but it didn't take a genius to see how much easier it made life. Unfortunately it seemed to take a genius to gain that sort of status, and it didn't take that much intelligence to realize Stanford was much smarter than him. Even if his mother tried to make him feel better by telling him he was just a slower learner, Stanley knew better, knew his brother wasn't just faster than him when it came to understanding concepts. No, there was something special about Ford that put him above everyone else, and that special something was his brain. His twin would deny it, but he was the smartest person in their small town of Glass Shard Beach, heck, maybe even in the whole world, and if Stanley could see that, there was no way their parents and teachers didn't.

Okay, so maybe he was envious of Ford more than sometimes, but how could he not be? Ford was amazing! He was unique… and Stanley was, well… just Stanley. He didn't have anything that made him special like his Sixer . He couldn't solve schoolwork easily, he didn't have any extra fingers, he wasn't an awesome inventor, or an artist (his drawings would never be as good as Ford's, anyway)… he wasn't anything impressive at all, and everyone knew it.

Stanley blinked when Ford plopped in the seat beside him and grinned widely in his direction, completely oblivious to the negative thoughts running rampant through his brother's mind, and Stanley felt himself relax into his chair as his brother started telling him about the week's lesson, and how he couldn't wait to get into next week's stuff. Stanley tuned him out for the most part, though made sure to nod and hum whenever his twin paused for breath, because he knew if he actually payed attention he would just become overwhelmed with the information. He was glad Ford was excited, but knowing they had so much to study was not a comfort to the younger twin.

Somehow Ford realized that, because a moment later he was trailing off with whatever he'd been saying and sending Stanley a curious look, nudging him lightly as he asked what was wrong.

Stanley shrugged, turning his attention to the scratches on his desk. "It's nothin'," He said, knowing Ford would keep poking at him until he answered honestly but still not wanting to. It was stupid, really, and he didn't want to bother his twin with those sorts of things. He knew Ford wouldn't laugh, but he wouldn't understand; understanding feelings wasn't exactly something his brother was good at. Besides, he'd say Stanley was being silly, because of course he was special, and… Oh.

Okay, well, maybe not everyone thought he was a waste of space.

That thought warmed Stanley's insides instantly and even the bell ringing to signal the start of class didn't chase it away. Yes, everyone else might have thought him useless and stupid, but Sixer didn't, and in the end he was the only one whose opinion truly mattered to the younger boy. Well, maybe Ma's too, but she didn't exactly count, because she had to love him no matter what, that was the rule of the universe: Mothers had to love their children regardless of how unintelligent or uninteresting they were.

Stanley sent a small smile his brother's way as the classroom began filling up and kicked his foot gently to get his attention. "Take lots of notes, Nerd. I'm probably gonna need some help with this one."

When school finally got out Stanley released an audible sigh of relief and took a deep breath, smiling when the ever present salty air filled his lungs and left him feeling calm even as he started buzzing with anticipation for what came next. Stanford was already pulling their notebook out of his backpack to go over the sketches and notes he'd made last Friday, letting Stanley be his eyes as they made their way down the street to the beach where the Stan'O'War was waiting for them. They'd decided on the name a few weeks back when they'd found the old, busted up ship, and to say Stanley was pleased that Ford had loved the name he'd suggested would have been an understatement. The way his brother had laughed, pleased with Stanley's contribution, before patting the younger twin's shoulder and saying he loved the name had made Stanley's heart soar; there was no better feeling in the world than having Ford genuinely love something he came up with.

Stanley just wished he was able to come up with things like that more often. At least he had his puns, which never failed to make his twin happy. Of course, most of those puns were sea related which meant Stanley ended up saving them for every Friday, the day they'd decided would be when they worked on the ship. Still, it was worth it to hear Ford's shrieking laughter when he could no longer ignore their hilarity.

The desire to hear that laugh right then was what made Stanley open his mouth, a topic that would easily lead up to the joke already in mind.

"Hey, Ford."

"Hmm?" Ford glanced up from his book momentarily to let him know he was listening and Stanley smirked.

"So, what's the plan for today?"

"Uh, we need to see what type of wood is used for the skeleton and see if anyone around town will give it to us if they have it. We also need to figure out how it's supposed to look so I can start thinking up blu-"

"Well, well, if it ain't the dork and the loser."

Stanley and Ford stopped mid-step at the familiar teasing voice that sent ice through one's veins and fire through the other's. Stanley fixed a glare onto his face when Crampelter and his buddies came to stand in front of them so he and Ford could see the blond's ugly sneer. Of course he had to show up right when they'd been about to have fun.

"What are you freaks up to?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Stanley growled, his hands already curling into fists by his sides as he noted how tense his brother was, trying to subtly curl in on himself in order to hide the book and his six fingers. The motion spurred Stanley's anger all the more and the preteen narrowed his eyes, waiting for the bully to keep talking like he always did.

"Hey, it's justa simple question, no need ta get snippy."

"Yeah, just answer the man, loser."

Stan clenched his jaw, letting his hateful gaze brush over the two jerks Crampelter seemed to consider friends. He had long ago gotten used to the nickname they'd given him, so hearing "loser" roll off their tongues didn't really get to him anymore, and so long as they were focused on him nothing was wrong. After all, he'd dealt with plenty of people being mean to him before. He had thick skin, unlike-

"Check it, the dork's tryin'a hide something."

Oh, hell no!

The tall brunet to Crampelter's left went to reach for Ford's notebook and Stanley quickly jumped in front of his twin, shoving the older boy's arm back roughly.

"Leave him alone!"

"Why? We're just tryin ta see whatcha got goin' on. Ya guys take this route every friday and I'm just wonderin' why is all."

If it was possible Stanley's eyes grew darker as he turned his attention to the blond leader of the group. So that was what he wanted. Of course Crampelter would want to bug them about their habits when he had nothing better to do. He and Ford knew they were the favored targets of the teen's bullying but that never made it any easier to get past or ignore him. Especially when he and his friends were in the mood to cause trouble and not just be mean.

It wasn't often that they tried to take stuff that belonged to the brothers, but there were days when things apparently weren't going perfect in Crampelter's world and the guy felt the need to take it out on people smaller than him. Stanley supposed he understood that, even if he didn't know the reasons behind the blond's brand of cruelty, considering he had been tempted to take people's things or hit them because he'd had a bad day before. The only difference between them was that Stanley knew it was wrong and would lead to nothing good, so he didn't act on it.

Still, it didn't much matter to Stanley whether the blond was having a bad day or not, because the minute he tried to mess with Ford it wouldn't matter if the younger boy knew hurting others was wrong. He may not have been able to do anything other than console his twin after Crampelter threw hurtful words at him regarding his hands, but when it came to physical harm, Stanley would do whatever it took to keep Ford safe, even if it meant letting himself be the punching bag -and more often than not that was the end result.

"None'a your damn business, that's what we're doin'. Now get lost."

Crampelter narrowed his eyes and Stanley felt Ford shuffle closer until he was pressed against his back, a solid wall of comfort and encouragement that Stanley appreciated more than anything in that moment. Knowing Ford wasn't going to run away (he never did, but still) or tell him to stop defending themselves was something for which the younger boy was immensely grateful. Of course, Crampelter took it as something else entirely and scoffed at them.

"Pfft, why so you and ya brother can get yer cuddle on?"

Stanley heard Ford gasp, the implied message in the bully's words not lost on either of them despite their young age, and his twin pulled away slightly. The lose of contact made Stanley feel like he'd been burned and a sick anger started stirring in his gut. A quick glance over his shoulder made Stanley's heart clench painfully, seeing Ford holding himself more self-consciously than usual, eyes darting between Crampelter and him. It made Stanley want to punch something… no not something, actually, he knew exactly who he wanted to punch.

How dare he… how dare that ugly, rude, son-of-a-lovely-lady make his brother suddenly self-conscious about their public displays of affection? How dare he make it out to be something sick and wrong? How dare he make Ford look ashamed to be close to his twin? How dare he try to taint that special bond they had? How. Dare...

Stanley saw red and before he knew it, he wasn't just thinking about wanting to punch the guy.

Crampelter obviously hadn't expected it, because the look on his face after Stanley's little fist connected with his nose screamed "what the hell". The triumph the boy would have felt for defending his brother died before it could even arise, however, when the realization of what he'd done sunk in about the same time Crampelter's redheaded buddy punched him in the face.

"Stanley!"

Ford was by his side instantly, book forgotten on the ground as he tried to help his brother. Pain was blooming on Stanley's jaw where he'd been hit and he didn't doubt he'd be sporting a nasty bruise later, but he didn't care when he saw the worry and fear mixed in Sixer's wide eyes. That brought him back to the situation at hand and Stanley got to his feet quickly, fists in front of his face as he once again shoved Ford behind him, ignoring his brother's quiet protests. He really didn't want the fight to go any further, but he had started it and now he would have to finish it, for the sake of protecting Ford.

However, Crampelter seemed to be more worried about his bloody nose than retaliating any further, and of course, his friends weren't going to do anything unless he backed them up. That didn't stop the bully from hurling more angry words at them before he left to deal with his injury.

"Freaks. Ya wonder why ya don't have any friends. Idiots."

Stanley shook his head angrily at that but said nothing more, not wanting another fight to break out, if you could call two punches and a retreating bully a fight, anyway.

As soon as the older boys' forms were close to out of sight, Stanley turned to his brother, an exasperated smile on his face and a joke dying in his throat the second he saw the crushed expression on his twin's face.

"Stanley…" Ford bit his lip and fidgeted with his hands, looking awkwardly at the ground, at Stanley, then back at the ground. The younger twin frowned at his brother's behavior and it took him a moment to remember the blond's words which had freaked Ford out so much and caused him to step back in the first place. Of course he would be worried about touching now after yet another person hinted that they were too close -thanks Pops. Now Ford thought Stanley might not want him touching him, just because he'd heard a second narrow-minded person comment on their closeness? Even though he'd clocked the guy who said it? Seriously?

Well, he would have to do something about that, now, wouldn't he?

"Oh, come on, Sixer."

Stanley opened his arms expectantly and almost rolled his eyes when relief passed visibly over his brother's face before Ford was wrapping his arms tight around his twin's waist and burying his face into the crook of the younger's neck. Stanley gave his older brother a squeeze and propped his chin on Ford's shoulder, ignoring the throbbing his jaw did in protest. "Don't let those idiots get to you."

"M'kay," Ford whispered before letting go and retrieving the discarded notebook. Stanley tried not to look surprised by his brother's lack of argument this time for favor of being glad that for once something he'd said regarding Crampelter's words garnered no protest from Ford. It meant his twin agreed one hundred percent and had just been waiting to make sure Stanley wasn't going to side with the bully on that one. As if that would ever happen.

Now there was only one order of business: Getting his Sixer to smile again.

"So, you ready to get the shell out of here? Get to the Stan'O'War?"

The corners of Ford's lips lifted into the beginning of a smile at the pun and he started to nod but stopped midway for his jaw to fall open as he let out a small but alarmed gasp that Stanley raised a brow at. When Ford started shaking his head the other eyebrow joined the first in the spot close to the younger's hairline and Stanley tried to figure out what his brother looked so concerned about.

"We've gotta go home! Your face needs to be iced!"

Oh, that. Pfft!

"Wha- No, Poindext-"

"Don't argue, Stan. We can work on the Stan'O'War tomorrow. Right now, you need ice. C'mon, Ma will help us."

Stanley groaned but made no other attempts to protest, knowing the whines would fall on deaf ears. When Ford was determined to get something done, nothing could stop him, and now was not any different; his older brother could be just as bullheaded as him when he wanted to be. Besides, he would be lying if he said some ice for his aching jaw didn't sound really nice.

As they made their way home and Stanley listened to Ford's tiny fretting comments said under his breath, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of mood their parents would be in when they got there. They'd seemed fine when they'd left for school that morning, so he could only hope nothing had changed.

He really should've taken their run-in with Crampelter as a sign that today was not going to be their lucky day.

"Ow! Ma!"

Stanley rubbed the back of his head where his mother had smacked him upon finding out how he'd gotten the bruise on his face and gave the woman a disgruntled look that she ignored for favor of continuing her rant.

"Stanley Pines, I can't believe ya would do somethin' so senseless! That boy is huge, what were ya thinkin' getting caught up in fight with 'im?"

"I was defending Stanford, Ma!" Stanley defended himself, gesturing pointedly at the brother standing a few feet off. "They were tryin'a take his stuff an' kept callin' him a freak."

Their mother's only response was to give him an unimpressed look before she left for the kitchen, emerging a few seconds later with a bag of ice before Stanley could grumble his displeasure at her lack of understanding. The brunette knelt before Stanley and the boy relaxed when he saw her expression soften as she brought the cold compress to the side of his face with a fond sort of sigh.

"I know ya were just protectin' Stanford, Peanut. I just worry 'bout ya. You're too reckless for yer own good."

Oh. Stanley took the ice pack and let his gaze drop, no longer wanting to meet his Ma's gaze now that he knew she wasn't actually mad and he wasn't actually in trouble. Now he just felt bad. He hated causing his mother unneeded distress, and knowing she'd probably been busy dealing with rude customers on the phone all day left the boy wondering if it might have been better to just have gone to his bedroom and let her relax for a little before she started working on dinner.

"Hey, don't ya start gettin' mopey on me now, Stanley," Ma lifted his chin so he was forced to look at her again and Stanley bit his lip when he saw the faint smile on her face. "Thanks for keepin' yer brother safe, Little Man."

Despite still feeling bad for worrying her, Stanley felt lighter with his mother's praise and he gave her a small smile in return before hopping down from the table. A quick glance at Ford showed his twin checking the kitchen entrance over his shoulder and it didn't take much effort to figure out why his brother was doing that; it was 6:30, and that meant Pa was going to be closing up the shop downstairs. If they were still in sight when he came up they would get roped into a brief, stiff conversation (which was really more an interrogation) about school, which was almost always followed by a few seconds of awkward silence when Stanford and he couldn't think of anything else to say, and then they'd get to watch their mother try and get him to tell her about his day, which he would do in as few words as possible, it seemed. Stanford thought he just didn't talk much around them and spoke lots with their Ma when they were alone, but for some reason Stanley doubted that, even if he didn't have the heart to tell his brother. Still, it was probably best for all of them if they avoided their Pa until they were called out for dinner.

"Alright, Ma, I won't be mopey. Can Ford and me go play now?"

"Sure, go have fun. Oh, and Stanley?"

The boy paused, already stepping out of the small kitchen with Ford, and hummed at his mother to let her know he was listening.

"It would be "Ford and I". Grammar is import'nt."

Stanley ducked his head when his face warmed at the correction and he elbowed Ford roughly in the side when he started snickering. "Right, sorry." He said before using his free hand to grab his brother's arm and drag him to their room.

As soon as the door was closed the two slid their backpacks off and flung them onto the bottom bunk of their bed in one well practiced motion, identical tired sighs echoing in the small space. Ford said nothing when he walked over to Stanley's bed and flopped gracelessly onto it in order to drag their project notebook out once more and the younger twin didn't comment as he took a seat beside his brother. It was funny how not twenty minutes ago Stanley had wanted to ignore his injury in order to go down to the beach, but now he was content with just sitting, not doing anything whilst he waited for Ford to begin a conversation. He could tell one was formulating in his twin's big brain and he, for once, was in no rush to talk -and no it wasn't because he was starting to feel that punch more prominently now.

Ford didn't take long though, so the silence didn't stretch out enough to have the opportunity of becoming stuffy, something Stanley greatly appreciated. He was fine with quiet as much as the next kid but silence for too long always made him feel really uncomfortable, he didn't know why.

"So, no ship today?"

Stanley shrugged and leaned back against his pillow. "Ya said we could do it tomorrow. 'Sides, I'm kinda tired."

"Me too," Ford admitted, closing the spiral bound notebook and sticking back in his pack. "How long do you think it'll take Ma to make dinner?"

"Eh," Stanley shrugged once more, shoving his backpack off the bed and throwing Ford's onto their small desk before his twin could protest the treatment of his stuff. The boy could easily see where their conversation was going and he was more than willing to let it happen, but he wasn't going to have stuff all over his bed. "It'll probably take, like, half an hour-ish."

The younger brother toed his shoes off as he spoke and smirked in triumph at his correct deductions when Ford stifled a yawn and dropped his head onto Stanley's stomach, his eyes already starting to close.

"Whoa, hey, don't forget your glasses." Stanley pulled said items off his brother's face before Ford got the chance to even lift his head and the older sibling made a grateful noise at the back of his throat, still not moving an inch.

"You're really tired, aren't ya?"

"Mmm," Ford nodded sluggishly and Stanley huffed out a small laugh as he brought a hand up to play with his twin's hair. Ford always had liked having his hair pet and twirled, something Stanley had found out a few years back when he'd been trying to calm him down after some other kid had ripped his class notes in a fit of anger. It was just as well, because when he had his hair messed with, Ford had a tendency to cuddle, and that was something Stanley loved more than anything, even if he hadn't said as much aloud. And when the two of them were both worn out after a long day of school, those were the fastest ways to get either of them to sleep, and both boys knew it. This time though, Stanley wasn't tired, he was just content to have his brother snuggled up close to him as he let his thoughts drift.

Stanley didn't know the exact length of time he'd been running his fingers through Ford's curls, but figured it must have been awhile when his mother's voice calling for them and saying dinner was ready broke through his daydreaming.

As much as Stanley didn't want to wake his brother up and go out there right then, he knew it would was in their best interest to do so, which was why he found himself sitting up and nudging Ford awake with a resigned sigh. "C'mon, Poindexter, up-up."

"Huh-uh," Ford whined, burying his face further into Stanley's shirt and making the boy roll his eyes.

"Now, Sixer."

"..."

"Pa's gonna get annoyed if ya don't."

"I'm up!" His brother pushed off his lap, off the bed and put his glasses back on as fast as he could and Stanley followed suit, smoothing out the covers on the bed before heading for the dinner table. Their parents were already sat down, speaking quietly enough that neither boy could understand what was being said, as per usual. Stanley and Ford took their seats opposite each other like they always did and the conversation from the adults died down.

Ma had already served them and Stanley heard his stomach growl when he caught a good whiff of the casserole, but thankfully nobody else heard the noise. Across the table Ford was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, trying to do so as subtly as possible so their father didn't ask what was wrong with him. Stanley spoke up to help direct the man's attention from his twin.

"Can we eat?"

Ma chuckled lightly at his bluntness and nodded in response. "Go for it."

Stanley dug in without any further comment and only stopped when their father's voice broke through the soft clinking of silverware against ceramic plates. "How is school?"

It took the preteen a moment to realize for once the man had been addressing him first and not his brother. "Oh, uh, it's fine. I guess."

"You guess?"

"Teachers're nice," The boy added when he saw his Pa's eyebrow raise, unimpressed with his first answer.

"Good," He intoned, as if he didn't actually care, "How about that test you took?"

"Test?" Stanley frowned, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what test his father was referring to. Before he could find the answer himself though, Ma interrupted, helping him out a little. "The math test ya took on Tuesday."

"Oh! That one. Yeah, we uh, haven't gotten a grade on that yet…" Stanley checked Pa's expression from the corner of his eyes but the light was hitting his glasses just right (like it always seemed to) and left him without a clue as to what he might be thinking. Obviously he wasn't going to blame Stanley for the teachers being slow, but when it came to their father he didn't even have to directly blame you to make you feel bad. And the brunet was already trying not to fidget under his gaze.

Thankfully Pa didn't focus on him for much longer, turning to Stanford who was already sitting up straight, ready to answer the same questions Stanley just had.

"School is going well for me too. I still haven't made any friends, but Ms. Clarke said I'll probably have an A by the time scores start coming in next week. She says the same probably goes for my other classes too."

The displeased frown that seemed permanently etched into their father's face shifted further until it resembled a scowl and Stanley saw the way Ford gulped, his eyes darting back and forth as if reading some invisible script in the air, trying to find what it was he'd said wrong. Pa's words cleared it up pretty well though.

"An "A"?"

Ford blanched at his mistake and shook his head hard, stammering out a response. "N-no, I-I uh, I meant A Plus, but I accidentally said A, but I meant A Plus. Sorry. I was supposed to say A Plus…"

Stanley winced as Ford continued to stumble along, voice dropping lower and lower until it was more of a mutter than anything, his nerves making it near impossible for him to stop. He knew he had to spare his brother from saying any more… even if it did bring the most likely negative attention back to him.

"Hey, Poindexter, she say anythin' about my potentle grades?"

Ford bit his lip, eyes marginally wider than normal as he understood what Stanley was doing. The boy could see the gratitude written all over his twin's face and found then that even if it did mean getting dumped on by Pa, it would be all right, because at least Ford wasn't under his scrutiny. He gave his brother an almost imperceptible nod and both boys jumped back into their roles as if nothing had just happened.

"It's pronounced "potential", Stanley. And uh… she didn't say much about your grades, but I bet you'll get an A- er, A Plus, too! You deserve a bunch of them."

Stanley smiled at his brother for the effort. Even knowing it was a lie he, couldn't help but feel better knowing Ford not only wanted to make him look good in front of their parents, but genuinely thought he actually should get good grades. At least somebody had noticed he was making an effort to do well in school.

Their father, however, wasn't buying it for even as second, as Stanley knew he wouldn't. The man scoffed, the sound derisive and unamused, and the brunet would have been fine if the conversation had stopped there, but of course Ford wasn't going to leave it be because, bless and curse him, he cared.

"No, Lee really does deserve it! He's been working really hard and is doing all his homework, and asking for help and stuff. He's trying r-"

"Stanford, Stanley would be lucky to get a C and you know it. Stop puffin' your brother up and letting him think cheating off'a you and calling it hard work means he deserves good anything."

Ford's jaw dropped open and he inhaled sharply as if to say something else and Stanley wished his legs were longer then so he could kick him under the table to shut him up. Ma clearing her throat was the next best thing though, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife and making Ford close his mouth with an audible snap. Ford gnawed on his lip again and despite his earlier resolution to take whatever his father dished out and not show how much it affected him, Stanley felt heat prick behind his eyelids and a lump form in his throat.

He really should've been used to Pa's dismissive attitude towards him and everything he did, but apparently he wasn't, because no matter how many times Stanley told himself the words couldn't hurt him, they did. They hurt a lot. Sometimes they hurt more than anything else their old man could throw at him, because at least when he was being held off the ground and shaken by his shirt collar he could find solace in knowing that when it was done he could get up and dust himself off, and there wouldn't be anything standing in his way. The words though… he couldn't just dust them off and say "someday he won't be able to do that to me", because even when the man had finished and left him alone, the things that had been said stuck with him, hiding in the back of his mind and waiting to attack. It hurt. It hurt deep down, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. But it was fine… or at least… it had to be.

Stanley blinked rapidly a few times to dispel the wetness in his eyes before it could fully form into anything that would cause humiliation, and ate as fast as he could, not wanting to spend longer at that table then he had to. He was grateful to Ma for shutting the talk down, but he was in no mood to wait for something else to pop up. Ford seemed to have the same idea because he was eating just as quickly, if not faster, and if their parents noticed, they didn't comment on it.

Stanley finished in what had to be record time and Ford followed soon after, thanking their mother for dinner and putting his and his twin's dishes in the sink when Stanley forgot to. She gave them a small nod of appreciation as she waved a hand at them, a clear message to go on and do their own thing. Stanley wasn't sure, but he could swear once they'd gotten out of her line of sight he saw Ma glare at their father. Now wouldn't that have been dandy? The mental image was enough to make the boy shudder and want to giggle at the same time. Their mother may not have been the head of the household, and she may not stop Pa when he was having a day, but when she was mad everybody knew they'd best stay out of her way. Their mother angry could be more terrifying than Crampelter's father- and it was kind of hard to be scarier than the police chief; he carried a gun at all times and made a habit of subtly threatening people so that his stupid son could get away with everything bad he did.

It didn't matter much to him in the end though because he wasn't going to be able to deal with it.

Stanley closed the door to their room once more, hopefully for the last time that day, and turned to see Ford with tears in his eyes, looking the way Stanley felt in that moment: Miserable. It was no secret to him that his brother was the more emotional one most of the time when it came to their life, his empathy for what Stanley felt making it difficult for him to ignore the pain, but Stanley was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around how sudden this was. Normally there was a warning before Ford turned on the waterworks.

"Ford, what-?"

"I'm sorry. I should've just shut my mouth."

"S'not your fault," Stanley tried to reassure quickly, not wanting his twin to blame himself, but Ford was shaking his head before he'd even finished the sentence.

"Yes it is. Why is he so… so mean to you?" Ford's voice cracked on the last bit and Stanley watched his brother curl in on himself, his arms wrapping around his waist and hugging tightly. Stanley hated when he did that, tried to make himself smaller, invisible.

"Hey, hey, Sixer c'mere," The boy pulled his twin close and Ford let Stanley guide his face until their foreheads were pressed together and the younger brother wiped the tears off that had managed to leak out from behind the older's closed eyes. "Why're ya so upset about this?"

Ford unwound his arms from his own body and transferred the hold to Stanley's shoulders whilst Stanley released his hold on his brother's head to start rubbing circles into his back as Ford cried.

"H-He's just s-so awful to you, Lee. D-doesn't think you're go-good enough. S-Stupid."

"Shhh, shhhhh," Stanley shrugged even as he continued his attempts to calm his twin. "I don't know why, Sixer. Don't worry about it."

"How can you s-say that?" Ford pulled back and scrubbed at his eyes, sniffling loudly as he attempted to get his emotions under control again. "Doesn't it b-bother you?"

"Yeah," Stanley sighed, "But there's nothin' I can do about it."

"Why do you just take it though?"

Stanley smiled then, the expression equal parts amused and perplexed. That was an easy question to answer, though how Ford didn't already know was beyond him. "Ain't it obvious?"

Ford sniffled again, the tears finally stopping, though Stanley was sure it took effort to get them to do so, and he shook his head slowly, as if thinking hard and looking for the answer. Stanley decided not to torture him when he realized his brother really wasn't able to figure it out.

"I don't care what he says. I care what you say."

Ford was quiet for a long stretch of time that left Stanley wondering if he'd accidentally broken him or something, but didn't get to ask as Ford finally whispered a soft and understanding, if still a bewildered, "... Oh."

"Sixer, I don't give a rat's butt what anyone else says about me. If ya got my back, I'm happy."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh… okay…" Ford still looked like he was having a hard time comprehending that and Stanley rolled his eyes as a peaceful hush descended upon their room. This time, Stanley found he didn't mind it much, even when it lasted longer than a minute, because it didn't hold any weight to it. It was just him and his brother, taking a moment to breathe and relax before the fatigue of the day started rearing it's head. Stanley let his brother think about what he'd said, let him come to terms with exactly what it meant, because it was true and he wanted Ford to understand.

Sure, words did hurt him. They hurt deeply and continued hurting long after they stopped being said, but that didn't mean they were the only things Stanley ever heard or had going through his head. No, he had plenty of things to combat the negative with, and all of them, every single one, came from the person who wore the same face as him. They came from his Sixer.

Now it was his turn to make him feel better. And of course Stanley knew exactly how to do that.

"So, water we gonna do? Homework? Or should we get punfy?

"Lee, that's stupid!"

"Then why are you laughing?"

"'Cuz it was stupid!"

"Well I can't kelp it if it's bad!"

"Stoooop!"

Stanley laughed along with his twin, making more awful puns as they came to him and listening to his brother try and fail to catch his breath. Seeing his twin so happy after he'd been so sad and knowing he'd done that made the mirth bubbling from his chest and the grin stretching his face all the more genuine. A feeling of accomplishment blossomed then and was left running through him when Ford finally gave up and collapsed onto the bed with him, where he stayed until they both started drifting off to sleep.

Yeah, Stanley thought as his eyes grew heavier and sleep began taking over, Stanford at his side. That's all he really needed.

[badonkodank]

Better Kept Secret

ao3

Chapter Two: Security Of’en A Fallacy

The days that followed that conversation were uneventful, with Ford discussing with his brother what supplies they would need once they stopped in the nice seaside town of Tofino, British Columbia, where the various items Gravity Falls didn’t have were located, if his memory served him correctly (and it always did).

Stan had actually suggested a lot of logical things to assist on their trip and listened when Ford told him of a few specific things to be on the lookout for so that he could make a few extra magic barriers around the Stan’O’War II, which left both twins feeling more relaxed around the other again, even if there was some residual tension and upset neither attempted to address.

It wasn’t always easy to get back into the groove of things after a fallout in communications, however brief, and this case was no exception, especially where Ford was concerned. Although it wasn’t as bad as some of the ones preceding it, which came as a surprise and a relief to the man.

Ford supposed it had something to do with how quickly Stan had come to apologize this time, which was something everyone and their dog knew was a rare occurrence for his brother. Getting Stan to admit he was wrong about something was like pulling teeth, so when he came running to say he was sorry it was extremely difficult to stay bitter towards him. And if Ford was going to be honest with himself, it didn’t altogether matter how angry he got with his brother or why, because Stan could hurt and vex him left and right and Ford would end up forgiving him eventually. Stanley would do the same for him after all- had more times than he could count. It was comforting to know that no matter what he’d done during and before their trip thus far, Stan wasn’t judging him.

For the first couple weeks Ford had been terrified of letting his brother know he had been having any problems readjusting to the world, and while doing so now still set him on edge, he could do it because he knew that somehow Stan got it.

It had taken even longer to talk about his affiliation with Bill Cipher, but even now, after his twin had unthinkingly used it against him and dug up old feelings of betrayal, Ford felt at peace with his past decisions, because at least now Stan knew. And recent events aside, his brother had never pushed too hard, never told Ford he was being irrational (even when he himself knew he was), never tried to belittle him when the panic dug too deep and left him huddled in a dark corner, growling like an animal whilst Stan tried to calm him down and convince him to come out.

Stan just… accepted everything about him, good and bad, weird and weirder, as if nothing had ever happened between them even when there was a silent understanding that there was a difference between forgiving and forgetting.

Stan was the one person Ford could always turn to, the one who tried to never make snap judgements (which always struck him as entertaining, considering how his brother jumped down other people’s throats within seconds normally), always listened to his stories up to the end before asking questions (unless something wasn’t making sense with the way Ford worded it, but that was just Stanley), always helped him, always… well, took care of him, even when Ford had been at his worst around the house. And he never showed any resentment for it.

Stan was the only person he could truly trust when Dipper and Mabel weren’t around, and Ford knew that… but he also knew everyone had a snapping point; a spot where they drew the line and if anyone crossed it, that was it, they were done. Stan continually edged close to his, but somehow knew when to step back before he could toe over every time. That meant his brother was aware of what set Ford off and what didn’t, though, which gave him the advantage over the older twin in that aspect of life, because Ford had no idea where Stan’s was.

In this case, though… Ford didn’t need to know in order to be aware that if he were to answer the one question his brother had asked numerous times (albeit in different, sometimes creative ways), that would be it. He would cross over Stan’s invisible line and Ford would never be able to look him in the eye again. Stanley would never look at him the same way, and all the progress they’d made would be for naught.

Because Stanley didn’t understand, and Ford wasn’t about to fault him for that. It was good, actually, that Stan knew so much and yet so little about him that he’d been unable to figure out the things Ford was hiding.

His brother was indeed intelligent, more intelligent than Ford would ever have guessed. That was one of the first things he’d had begrudgingly admitted after coming out of the Portal after 30 years and finding Stan had redone everything by himself, even before Dipper and Mabel had found the other two journals. His little brother was anything but stupid like everyone used to say growing up, but Ford still didn’t think Stan would be able to grasp the concept, the enormity, of the things he was asking of him.

So he had said no, that it wasn’t important. There hadn’t been anything else he could think to tell Stan then, and he stood by that decision now, even when he knew it upset his brother. If Stan knew what Ford was saving him from, he would thank him. Nobody wanted to hear those things, even when they thought they did.

It was that resolution that had him able to brush off his chagrin whenever he caught Stan looking like he was having an internal battle with his curiosity and his respect for Ford’s privacy. No, he didn’t like having to keep secrets from his brother, but he also knew this was one of those things that had to be done for the greater good. Whatever nightmares plagued him as a result of that wouldn’t compare to the abject horror that would be written across Stanley’s face if he really knew the things he’d done to survive in the worlds beyond the portal. He wouldn’t let his twin find out what he’d become. He had managed to keep that thing under wraps during Weirdmageddon and during his more recent bouts of flashbacks, somehow, and Ford was confident he could continue to do it the rest of his life if it meant protecting Stan. He didn’t trust that side of himself anymore, it wasn’t meant for a world like this.

As it stood, Stan was trying to leave it be and managing it well. His brother went back to his usual self, teasing Ford about his reckless nerdiness whenever he had to be dragged away from an anomaly that may or may not have been trying to kill them because he’d been intent on studying as much of it as he could. With that light-hearted banter came the return of a calm atmosphere they both had sorely missed, and the knowledge that dry land was going to be added to the mix soon left both of them in much higher spirits.

Ford still wasn’t sure if all in regards to their argument had been completely forgiven, but seeing the hurt and honest, gut wrenching remorse on his brother’s face when he’d apologized had made it hard for him to stay mad. It helped that he didn’t want to be upset with his brother too, knowing his words, no matter how much pain they’d caused, had come from Stan’s own well of hurt that Ford had unintentionally caused, had helped the man come to his senses faster.

Everything was starting to look up again, because after the incident at the end of the summer he’d realized how stupid and petty it was to hold grudges. It was a hard habit to break, but one he’d found easier and easier to leave behind every time Stan upset him (which was frequently) and he had to forgive him and let it go.

At least now Stan was acting like his typical self, no longer walking on eggshells around him while simultaneously trying to doing whatever he could to have Ford feeling better -something he always seemed to do when he was feeling guilty-, which admittedly, meant he was only a little less funny and a whole less skittish.

Ford actually preferred him that way. He still appreciated the efforts, though, feeling equal parts annoyed and wistful every time as it reminded him of the days of bunkbeds and school bullies, when the two of them had still managed to get on the others nerves despite the fact that they never really had any friends outside each other, so fighting was counterproductive, leaving them running back to apologizing within the space of a few hours, or in the bad cases, days.

“Hey, earth to Nerd. What’re you smiling about?”

Ford hadn’t even noticed his mouth had shifted without his permission or that Stanley had been so close, staring at him intently. The man gave a noncommittal shrug and pushed away from the railing he’d been leaning against in order to go check on the navigation panel, not wanting to divulge his inner musings at the moment and needing to see how things were doing anyway.

They could see land approaching swiftly, but Ford still felt the need to make sure they were headed to the correct place, even if Stan was adamant that it didn’t matter what tiny town they ended up in so long as he could get fed and take a shower. Ford knew his brother was technically right, but sometimes he just needed that kind of control in his life. Sometimes he needed to go to a specific part of Canada and make sure their craft listened, dammit. It didn’t have to make sense to anyone except him.

“Hey! Poindexter, answer me.”

Ford rolled his eyes, Stan’s petulant demand coaxing another smile onto his face even as he released a long-suffering sigh that was sure to leave his brother squinting. “What is it, Stanley?”

“What’s with the dopey smile?”

“Nothing, and it’s not dopey.”

“Pfft, sure,” Stan smirked, coming over and throwing an arm around Ford’s shoulders, “Anyway, how much longer we got?”

“Well, if you’d been listening earlier, you would know,” Ford ducked out of his brother’s reach to jab at a few buttons, ignoring Stanley’s whine, “We have about an hour so long as the weather stays clear.”

“Damn, I want it now!” Stan bemoaned, his voice muffling as he went below deck to no doubt grab something for lunch since he’d been complaining about an empty stomach earlier.

Ford would be grateful for something to eat too, considering his last meal had been dinner the night before. He’d skipped breakfast in favor of finishing up a journal entry while the information was still fresh in his head, and Stanley had glared at him disapprovingly the entire time while he pretended not to notice; his brother at least remembered to not make any attempts to stop his writing.

It had been a good entry, too, when Ford considered the fact that he hadn’t expected to see anomalies so close to civilization, much less one belonging to the Merpeople. The Mermaid they’d encountered had indeed been a charming one, not at all like the stories prefered to depict her kind (it seemed Mabel was right about that), answering most of the questions Ford asked her without asking for any payment in return, and positioning herself in such a way he was able to get an accurate reference sketch done.

She’d told them the safest routes to take where the waters were calmest too, letting Stan flirt with her the entire time and even giving his brother a peck on the lips before she’d gone. Ford chuckled at the memory of how red Stan had gotten, realizing it had most likely been awhile since anyone had laid one on his twin. Yes, she certainly had not been what either of the men expected.

Galene... Enchanting.

“... Yeah, so all we have are crackers and beans, and I don’t know about you, but I’m already tired of beans.”

“And it hasn’t even been a month yet,” Ford sighed. “Stanley, you’re the one who insisted we take so many, because they were “something nobody could ever get bored of”.”

Stanley shrugged and ripped open a packet of aforementioned crackers, handing a few to Ford before stuffing one in his mouth. “Eh, I lied. Y’really shouldn’t be surprised by that still.”

Ford rolled his eyes even as he nodded. He really should have known his brother would complain about the food, considering he groused about everything else he had assured he would be fine with, like the numerous devices Ford had brought with them that took up much of their cabin space whenever they were taken out for use. Yes, Stanley was nothing if not a whiner when he wanted to be.

“Well, it’s a good thing we will have access to a store then, isn’t it?”

Once the ship had been brought in and the brothers had gotten onto land once more, Stanley had insisted they go to the nearest joint and get something to eat, an idea Ford had to admit he found more enticing with every step they took towards the diner his twin had pointed out.

Greasy food hadn’t been something Ford had particularly enjoyed during his younger days, but after his “attitude adjustment period” he’d become a lot less picky, and actually found he liked the meals he’d once labeled disgusting. Thankfully his eating habits hadn’t been one of the things Stan remembered with perfect clarity, so when they sat down and Ford ordered a burger along with his brother he got no strange looks.

There were actually a lot of little things about him that Stan didn’t remember clearly. Not that Ford was complaining, because in some ways it made life easier since Stanley didn’t know how he like and reacted to certain things anymore. Though, what was lost because of time and what was lost because they were just simple things that hadn’t made it back after the memory wipe, Ford wasn’t sure. The good thing was that anything he had forgotten was never a subject labelled as “important”.

The entire time they ate the twins stayed quiet, enjoying the companionable silence for the time being instead of trying to fill it with redundant conversation about what they needed to do now that they were here. They’d already gone over the plan a few times now and Ford could tell Stan was as tired of hearing it as he was saying it.

After the meal the two had searched around for a place to stay, finally agreeing on a motel close to the docks after several minutes of “discussing” the pros and cons of their choices. The place was decent enough, as far as cheap establishments went.

Once checked in, the brothers went about their business, with Stanley washing up first while Ford made sure all the locks worked, proceeding to add some extra security to them when he decided they weren’t completely satisfactory (you couldn’t be too careful nowadays). Afterwards, Stanley went to watching TV while Ford took his turn to shower.

Which was how he found himself standing in front of the small mirror in the room they’d paid for, brushing out his hair and cursing the salt air of the past week for making it curl so much. Stanley’s content sigh when he stretched out on one of the beds reached his ear and made him chortle, glad his brother was enjoying himself.

“See? Told ya this was a good idea.”

Ford hummed under his breath in affirmation as he set the brush down and went over to where Stan was, plopping down heavily beside him and nudging the man with his knee. “Now we have to get supplies, though.”

“Nah, we can do that tomorrow.”

Stan rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes as he spoke, which had Ford resisting the childish urge to push him off the bed. Instead he got to his feat in order to turn off the TV his twin had left on since he wasn’t watching it anyway. Stanley shot up then to glare at him.

“ Hey, I was-”

“Come on, Stan,” Ford said, ignoring his brother’s protests as he grabbed the room keys and Stanley’s wallet, “You said you would help, and the sooner we do this, the sooner you can relax. So get up.”

The man grumbled loudly but got to his feet in the end, and Ford kept his snickers to a minimum, though, only to avoid being smacked. A tired Stan was always a grumpy Stan, and normally Ford would’ve left him alone, but he knew his brother wasn’t truly ready for sleep yet and the moment he quit whining he’d be fine.

Ford led them outside where the sun was still in the sky and people, tourists and natives alike, milled about. The smell of salt and fish was everywhere but neither brother noticed, having been at sea long enough already to have grown accustomed to the scents. Stanley stopped his griping instantly as Ford had known he would, more intent on looking around and figuring out where everything was than annoying his twin.

Ford did his best to ignore the bodies around them as he and Stan made their way down the street, but doing so became increasingly difficult when they frequently bumped into him by accident or seemed to let their eyes linger too long.

Ford felt his jaw clench tighter and tighter every time something like that happened and he had to force his unease down after a time, knowing it would do no good to grow agitated when there was no real reason. Logically he understood that after 30 years of relative solitude it made sense to be reacting this way to crowds, especially when he factored in how long it had taken to get used to the small population of Gravity Falls, but the frustrated part of him wished he could just be fine with it already. It had been long enough that people shouldn’t bother him this much, right?

Besides, it had been his idea to head out. He had to see it through if for no other reason than the fact that he was stubborn… and didn’t want to have Stanley knowing he still wasn’t completely back to his “usual” self- whatever that was supposed to mean.

However, when he had to suppress a shudder after catching someone staring at him (That was just a trick of the light. Calm down) Ford began to wonder why he’d been so adamant about getting supplies now instead of waiting until dark. Why hadn’t he let Stan nap and waited for there to have been fewer civilians out so they could go about their business faster, without having to look over their shoulders? But you don’t have to do that. Nobody is out to get you. Relax.

Ford wanted to listen to that voice, knew it was right and reasonable, but it was still hard, because no matter how ridiculous, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched by someone or something that he couldn’t see no matter how hard he looked.

A sharp tug at his sweater made Ford’s attention snap to check behind him, posture stiffening immediately before he realized it was only Stanley and nobody else. Just his brother getting his attention after he’d likely taken notice of his darting, suspicious gaze. Just Stan. Everything was fine.

His brother was pointing out a little building advertising food products as well as various sailing equipment, as nearly every establishment in the town sold, and he suggested they start there to see if any of the ingredients to the “magic science stuff” was available. Ford relaxed with the small gesture along with the reassurance that nobody was trying to attack him.

Stanley’s idea also allowed Ford to bring himself back onto the task at hand, which served to ease the distress that had been rising in his chest. The man gave a tight, thankful smile that Stanley was quick to shrug off, the unspoken “don’t worry about it” evident in the gesture.

As soon as they stepped into the store Ford felt himself breathe easier and he immediately pulled out the supply list he’d made earlier in the day, burying his mind in its quest to find the needed ingredients for his spells.

Stan seemed to notice how engrossed he’d become in the task, since he walked off to the other end of the aisle, putting cans of soup and other various non-perishables into a small cart he’d grabbed, as Ford knew he would. He stood far off enough that Ford could think but close enough that he wouldn’t worry about his brother’s whereabouts.

He appreciated the efforts Stanley took to calm him and he briefly entertained the idea of going over and telling him what he was on the lookout for, but decided against it rather quickly; not only was he going to take the social reprieve his twin was granting him, but he was going to assume Stanley remembered the items he’d told him to be on the lookout for. Stan wasn’t stupid.

When they finally exited the store with roughly half the things they’d been looking for, the sun was setting and Ford seemed more like himself again, suggesting with bright eyes that once they’d dropped their purchases back at the motel they should go further into town and see some of the sights.

Unfortunately for his brother, all Stan wanted to do was go to the bar and take a breather. He hadn’t told Ford, but sleep had been evading him since their fight, which left him in a constant flux state of being exhausted but not being able to stay asleep and being over-tired to the point he had jitters that prevented sleep. It shouldn’t have been that big a deal, but Stan couldn’t stop berating himself whenever he was left alone with his thoughts. He hated being such a screw up and knowing he had nobody else to blame but himself. But, he supposed that was just life; he ruined everything, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

It wasn’t helping any when the fact that he’d been feeling uncomfortable about their stopping before they’d even stepped onto the docks of the town was added to the picture. Why he felt that way, Stan had no clue, but when paired with his lack of rest it was starting to take it’s toll on both his physical health and mental stability (he could practically feel the next flashback). However, with the knowledge that they wouldn’t be staying long and Ford had placed alarms and extra locks in the motel room to keep them safe, Stan was sure he could get a couple hours shuteye at the very least… that is, if he some alcohol in his system to help relax his mind first.

He knew it wasn’t something he could make habit of again, but just one night wouldn’t hurt.

Still, the uneasy feeling persisted, and it was strange, but ever since they’d left the diner earlier that day Stan swore he felt eyes watching them, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Every time he looked around, though, he never saw anyone who appeared to wish them any ill will.

The paranoid feeling was beginning to grate on his psyche, and though Ford hadn’t noticed yet, Stan was sure if the night went on like this he would, which meant the sooner he got a drink and calmed down, the better it would be for both of them.

He said nothing to Ford, though, knowing he was probably just being silly and not wanting to add unneeded stress to his twins plate. He kept quiet on their way to their motel instead, content to listen to his brother make plans and answer his own questions seconds after he asked them, the words blurring together until all Stan really heard was the changing tones.

Focusing on Ford helped to soothe the anxiety that had him looking over his shoulder every couple of minutes to search for something that wasn’t there, and Stan didn’t realize how wrapped up in his twin’s voice he’d become until Ford was opening the door to their room and he realized he hadn’t even registered entering the building.

“... And so we’ll just leave everything here and go back out. Does that sound good?”

“Wha- yeah sure, sounds like a plan.”

Stan shot out the reply only to mentally smack himself a moment later when he remembered what “going back out” meant in Ford’s eyes. He set his bags down on the otherwise empty desk by the window and added to his answer before his brother could say anything further, “But, I was thinking bar instead of more stores. Whaddya think?”

Ford sent him a look that told Stan exactly what he thought about the suggestion and the younger twin quickly continued, hoping reasoning it out might convince Ford it was a good idea.

“I mean, we’ve been movin’ around all day. I was just thinkin’ it might be nice to just, y’know, take the night off.”

His brother narrowed his eyes and Stan resisted the urge to retract the idea. He knew Ford was just mulling it over in his mind, weighing the pros and cons before he gave a response, but he wished for just once the man could say something without having to concern himself with every little detail. It wasn’t hard. Did he want to go, yes or no?

“Okay.”

Stan jumped, not having expected the answer so soon and so perfectly timed with his thoughts, as if his brother had read his mind. He was pretty sure Ford had seen the startled movement, given that he was staring at him with a smallest look of concern, and Stan slapped on a smile before the man could ask about it.

“Great! Let’s go then.”

Without waiting to see if Ford was following behind, Stan headed out, not needing to pay attention to where he went because he felt confident that, even though he could only remember spotting the place once during their entire time there, he knew exactly where he was going. It was almost like he’d visited that bar before, which Stan shook his head at because he would remember something like that, considering everything from his life had flooded back into his mind a few months back. Then again… a bar is trivial enough that I might have remembered it and just don’t remember remembering it. Ugh, don’t think like that, it’s confusing.

How he knew or not didn’t matter in the end for Stan when the next corner they turned revealed a neon sign in the window of the sought out establishment that blinked blue and red with the word “Open”. He smirked at his navigation skills and threw an arm around Ford’s shoulders as they walked through the small parking lot and into the building, his mask of being perfectly fine and happy slipping on easily with the promise of spirits close.

“Mmm, smell that, Ford?”

“Body odor and intoxication?”

Stan laughed at his brother’s deadpan humor and released his hold on him. “Not sure how you can smell that, but sure!”

There weren’t many people in the bar, but that was to be expected on a Wednesday since most responsible adults were likely still at work or just getting off. Still, there were enough that Ford and Stan didn’t feel awkward just standing in the middle of the room laughing before they got to the counter and Stan ordered them some bourbon.

He remembered Ford mentioning a few weeks back that he hadn’t had any in a long time, and by now Stan knew that “a long time” translated to “30 plus years”, which was not acceptable in his eyes.

“So, what’s put you in a good mood?” Stan turned to his brother and Ford shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing, as far as I’m aware. It’s been a nice day.”

“Heh, guess so,” Stan agreed while accepting the drinks that were placed in front of them.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” Stan tilted his head, not following Ford’s line of question.

“What put you in this mood?”

Stan resisted the urge to scowl at the way his twin had worded the question, aware that Ford likely had not meant to sound suspicious or accusing, and it had just been one of his reflex tones. He was probably referring to Stan’s desire to come here instead of sleep like he’d been not-so-subtly hinting to earlier in the day, wanting to know what had made Stan change his mind. That was all. He was only working out what Stan was thinking. Chill out.

“Nothin’ much, just thought comin’ here might be fun.”

He took a sip from his tumbler and focused on the wall past Ford’s shoulder so he wouldn’t have to stare directly at his twin’s skeptical expression. The man expected the next words from Ford to be along the lines of “what’s wrong” or better yet “stop lying”, but all Ford did was swirl the glass of liquid in his hand in a contemplative manner. Stan took his brother’s momentary silence as an opportunity to toss the last of his drink back, the burn making him hiss a bit before ordering another.

A glance back in Ford’s direction had Stan catching something akin to amusement in the older twin’s eyes and he quickly narrowed his own in suspicion even as he tried to make a joke of it. “Why’re ya lookin’ at me like that? I got something on my face?”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Stan nodded, sure Ford took it as acknowledgement even though he’d been doing it towards his own thoughts; with that question coming from seemingly nowhere, Stan figured Ford must have been studying him, not unlike he would one of his anomalies or books, reading him to assess where the behavior was stemming from.

It meant his brother had noticed his off attitude even when he’d tried to hide it, and Stan wanted to face-palm over his loss of deception skills… or his inability to hide things from Ford. Damn. He hadn’t meant to make it so obvious, since after all he was just being silly and fidgety from lack of proper sleep and his brother needn’t have been concerned.

“This was a good idea, actually. Coming here,” Ford said after the silence stretched a little too long, gesturing to the room around them with the glass Stan only now realized was empty. “It’s rather relaxing. I wasn’t expecting that..”

Stan snorted in spite of himself and Ford raised an eyebrow at the noise. “Mm, I was pretty surprised my first time coming here too.”

“Here?”

“Ah, well, not here, here, just a bar in general.”

“Gotcha,” Ford inclined his head before processing what Stan had said. Then he straightened up on his stool a bit more, an affronted look on his face, “Wait a minute, this is not my first time in a bar.”

Stan snorted at that and reached over to punch his brother lightly in the shoulder. “I’ll believe that when ya can finish more than one glass in ten minutes.”

“Are you kidding me? Stanley, one glass is more than enough for the first ten minutes!”

“Shows what you know, Bar Virgin.”

Stan bit his tongue to hold his laughter when Ford’s face flushed and he started sputtering for several seconds before regaining control of his mouth.

“I am not a ‘Bar Virgin’!” He hissed, unconsciously ducking lower in his seat as if the hunched posture would make it harder for people to hear. It was beyond hilarious, seeing his serious, brooding brother acting like a flustered teenager over the word “virgin”.

“Pfft, sure, okay, Ford, I’ll believe that… after ya tell me about your first time!”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“What was that? Didn’t sound like a story.”

If it was possible, his twin went redder and Stan doubled over, smacking the counter while his shoulders shook with silent mirth that left Ford glaring. The small twitch at the corner of his lips let Stan know he hadn’t actually upset him though, which helped him to calm faster, wanting to hear what his twin had to say.

“It was in college. I was twenty-one-”

“Ugh, law abiding citizen! Lame!”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

Stan crossed his arms with a huff but quieted down so Ford would continue. After staring at him in a way that let Stan know if he interrupted again the story would be done, the man went back to his recounting of his younger days.

“As I was saying… Ah, right: I was twenty-one and finals week had just finished. Fiddleford-” Stan tilted his head, the name not ringing a bell immediately. “-Oh, right, Mcgucket…” Ford squinted at the use of the hillbilly’s name, clearly not used to saying it as often, “He thought we deserved a break and suggested we celebrate the end of the school year with drinks. We went to a place downtown. I… got drunk… I don’t really remember much of that night-”

“Holy shit, you got plastered?!” Stan couldn’t stop himself from blurting it out, the shocked disbelief evident in his voice. It made Ford roll his eyes. “That is what “drunk” is, yes. It shouldn’t be so hard to bel- stop smiling like that!”

Stan shook his head, the shit-eating grin refusing to leave his face. At that point he wasn’t sure he could remove it if he’d wanted to; it was just too good! His Sixer, wasted in the middle of town, probably having to be pulled back home by his buddy- it was hysterical!

That was, until the tables turned on him.

“What about you? When was your first time in a bar?”

Stan sobered in the blink of an eye, his defensive walls shooting up faster than they had in awhile. He played the change in demeanor off as best he could, tossing his head back and giving a short bark of laughter. “Jeez, Sixer I don’t remember.”

Anger flared behind Ford’s eyes then, and while Stan knew it was caused by his accidental use of the childhood, Bill-tainted nickname, he still felt suddenly uncomfortable, and before he knew it he was fixing his answer. He didn’t want Ford to be mad at him, and if that meant he had to throw a little truth out, he could. He’d just have to try and be as vague about it as he could manage.

“Alright, alright, I had just turned eighteen.”

Stan checked to see Ford staring expectantly, waiting for more. When the man said nothing further his brother sighed in exasperation. “And?”

“And what? I was eighteen when I went into a bar for the first time.”

“Oh come on, Stanley! I gave you more than that, extend the same courtesy.”

Stan really didn’t like his twin sometimes. He didn’t want to tell him where he’d been that first time, and knew if he tried to lie Ford would know. He could lie and make things up on the fly easily when it came to things like feelings, or why he’d woken up so early, or how he understood what his brother was talking about, but it was hard to stare Ford in the eye and lie; he knew most of his tells when it came to that sort of thing. Argh! It isn’t fair! Ford can keep everything from me, so why am I not allowed to keep anything away from him?!

Stan knew why already but that didn’t mean he liked the answer right at that moment.

Because you want to please him. You care about him and want him to trust you.

“Fine,” Stan sighed, resignation ringing heavily in his words, “ya win. You remember that dive place just outside of town in… uh, Glass Shard Beach? That was my first bar experience.”

Ford’s eyes widened and Stan could understand why. After all, they hadn’t gone over everything regarding their fallout from what felt like a lifetime ago. Apologized, sure. They’d both apologized till they were blue in the face, but they still hadn’t heard everything, so this had probably felt like a little bombshell revelation to Ford. Stan could only hope his brother didn’t catch what his being eighteen at that time meant, though how he wouldn’t when he was so smart, Stan didn’t know. Wishful thinking?

“You stayed in town… until our birthday?”

Yup. There it was. Stan rubbed the back of his neck, not wanting to have that conversation right now, yet at the same time knowing there wasn’t a way out of it. Yet, anyway. He’d find one. The man cleared his throat awkwardly and stared at the tawny liquid in his glass intently just to avoid his brother’s face. “Uh, no. I left for a little bit. Came back. Thought maybe I’d catch ya… you weren’t home anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Backupsmore. S’where ya were about then, right?”

Ford hummed faintly and the conversation fizzled out, leaving the brothers in an extremely uncomfortable silence for the second time that week just as Stan had known it would. He cursed inwardly at the stupidity of it all. They were grown - hell, old - men for pete's sake, they shouldn’t have been letting the tension of decades passed make things weird. They should have been able to talk about it as casually as they would talk about the weather, yet here they were, silenced over the smallest mention of that area of their past.

It was stupid but… they’d avoided talking about it whenever possible, not because it made them upset with each other like it used to, not even because it was a sore spot anymore (because the apologies had made it better), but more because Stan didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He just had no clue where to begin or if Ford would even want him to. What was he supposed to say?

“Yeah, I stopped by, hoping you’d still be there, but it turns out you ran off without looking back like we’d always planned on doing together, so that’s… yep. ” Again, they’d already said their ‘sorrys’ and Stan wasn’t bitter about it anymore. So really, there was no need for Ford to be bothered by it. Yet he was...

“Stan-”

“Nonspecific excuse!”

Stan interrupted Ford, wincing apologetically when his brother twitched at the abrupt declaration but not taking his words back because he couldn’t stay there. He knew Ford was going to try and apologize again, and Stan already felt bad enough -both because he’d just had an off day and because he’d now upset his brother- that he didn’t want to sit through Ford’s mushy gushing that had the possibility of leading to tears… on his part.

Stan knew Ford would understand. He probably could probably use the space too. Either way he received a small nod from his twin.

Stan got up and exited the bar as fast as he could without giving the appearance of running away. He just needed a few minutes alone, that was all. He wouldn’t abandon his brother and Ford knew it, which could probably be factored into why he hadn’t seemed concerned. Uncertain maybe, but not concerned, since after all, if experience had taught them one thing it was that Stan always came back to Ford.

A quick breath of crisp night air and a few minutes to get his thoughts to calm down once more and he’d return to a more relaxed atmosphere again, where he could proceed to see if he couldn’t get his twin wasted.

That had been the plan anyway, however it became clear to him within the first minute of his being outside that it was not going to happen. The sound of someone approaching made the man groan under his breath. “Ford, I told you, I’m getting some-”

“Stanley Pines?”

The unfamiliar voice made Stan whirl around and tighten his hands into fists reflexively, even if he couldn’t think of any reasons as to why he might suddenly be in danger. As soon as he saw the man he’d briefly mistaken for his brother, Stan felt his heart rate pick up and warning bells began ringing in his mind, though why he wasn’t sure, because the face he stared at didn’t seem familiar. Yet something in Stan said he knew the man, which only served to alarm him further.

“Yes,” Stan answered warily, checking him over for any weapons while also studying his face to see if he could get his mind to supply the recollection he assumed he had. The man looked no younger than him and stood perhaps an inch or two taller, but he looked as plain as anyone else in the town - plain clothes, cropped gray hair, solid build, nothing special, even if he did appear a bit more sinister than most, though, that judgement was solely based on the way he was currently staring at him. Overall, nobody Stan could remember ever having run into.

“Who’re you?”

The man smirked, the expression devoid of humor and sending a spike of unwelcome dread along Stan’s spine.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Damn, is that really him?”

Stan jerked around when another voice echoed from across the lot, this one looking much younger than the guy whom Stan was still watching carefully as his arms began twitching, trying to decide whether he would need to bring them up or not. It wasn’t hard to tell something was wrong about what was going on, but he still could not think up why the men would have a problem with him. He’d never done anything wrong in Canada, as far as he could recall.

“He’s way old, dude. You sure it’s him?”

“Yeah, he’s right, those pictures were from way back when, how can ya be sure?”

“It’s Pines. I never forget a face, especially not this one. Although,” The first man narrowed his eyes in Stan’s direction, “I’m not sure how he’s even here.”

Stan tried to quell the rising panic in his gut when the two new voices joined the fray, and he barely refrained from glaring at the one staring at him, the one who was obviously in charge. Who were these people and how did they know him? Better yet, how did he not know them?

It was driving Stan nuts and he could feel his head spin as he tried to process what was being said, what was happening around him, and tried to figure out what he was supposed to do; with these guys gathering around and standing in front of all visible escapes it was clear they meant some form of business. Business that he wanted no part in.

Even with those thoughts running rampant through his head Stan found it easy to slip into his charismatic, relaxed persona. He forced a small smile onto his face even as his brows pulled together in clear confusion. “Look, I’m gonna risk of soundin’ redundant here and ask again: Who are you?”

The man pursed his lips, appearing to contemplate giving an proper answer. When he spoke his voice deepened, taking on a darker sort of amusement that had Stan fighting off a shudder.

“Nobody, as far as the rest of the world is concerned. Kind of like you, Pines, ‘cuz according to our records from, what, couple decades ago, you died.”

Stan forced himself to breathe carefully and not give away how anxious he suddenly was. Okay, so they know about the whole faked your death thing… and they don’t seem too happy about it. That’s probably not good. But that still doesn’t help! Who are they and how do they know you faked your death?! Stan wracked his brain and could think of no instances in which he’d ever come across any of the men around him.

“Paolo, are you sure he even remembers? He’s old enough he might be sen-”

“Shut it, Rickie, he’s no more senile then I am. He remembers.”

Paolo. Stan froze in place, a sharp pressure slamming behind his eyes, making him dizzier than before, and he had to widen his stance to keep from falling over. It felt as if a barrier had been broken open and things finally started clicking into place as he was flooded with brand new information from memories he hadn’t realized were there.

Faces flew past his mind’s eye and and Stan hissed under his breath when things slowly became clearer. That was right, Paolo. Another plan gone wrong. More dealings with mobs and... “The Rizzuto Family.”

“See? He remembers just fine.”

Paolo stepped forward and Stan backed up, making an effort to keep an eye on the other three that followed their boss’s lead and began closing in as him. But then suddenly it wasn’t three, it was four, five, eight- Where did they come from... Had he not counted right? No, Stan swore he’d only heard four people talk in total and he shook his head in an attempt to rid his vision of the others, but they persisted. Dammit, this was all his fault! - No, wait, why was it his fault?

“Heh, and judging by the look on your face I bet you remember why you’re still on the list.”

Stan sensed the first man before he saw him and jumped back to narrowly avoid the fist intending to connect with his head. He brought his hands up to protect his face as well as fight back, and when he landed a blow on his assailant’s jaw he desperately wished he had his knuckledusters, which would have sent the guy to the ground instead of stumbling back a few steps.

Another lunged for him and Stan growled, swinging quickly and aiming for the woman’s stomach. Only the blow never landed.

Stan yelped when he swung right through the lady’s image as if she were a ghost, the momentum of his punch sending him stumbling and letting his mind catch up enough to realize what was going on. He cursed loudly and picked himself up before anyone could jump at him, his eyes blowing wide when he found that even though he was aware his memories were bleeding into reality, they weren’t going away like he was usually able to get them to do.

Stan looked around until met Paolo’s gaze. The man stared back, bewildered by what he’d seen and Stan could only imagine how he looked to all of them.

Mabel and Dipper had been initially spooked by the whole thing too, when they had found him talking to thin air only to find out a moment later that he had thought he’d been talking to them. Ford hadn’t been able to find a nerd word that fit the problem but had said he was sure it was all right since it was just part of Stan’s remembering. Stan thought it just made him look like a lunatic.

No. Dammit, no! Why now? I thought I was done with these!

Stan cried out when pain blew up behind his eyes and he found himself back on the hard ground from a blow he hadn’t seen coming. A second later his attacker was digging the toe of their boot into his stomach, effectively knocking all the air from his lungs. Instinctively, Stan curled in on himself, doing his best to protect his head while a few more well placed kicks were delivered and he could tell he would be sporting some decent sized bruises.

He tried to think of a way out of his situation. Knowing the feds had likely abandoned him and that nobody else was going to help, Stan couldn’t see any way out, even if he did feel like he was forgetting something important. Didn’t I have someone other than the cops? Coulda sworn there was another guy-

His thoughts were cut short when the guy Paolo had called Rickie grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked up. The sharp discomfort had Stan following quickly before his scalp could start bleeding from the abuse. It would’ve been stupid not to comply at that point anyway; they had already taken his knife, he could taste too much blood and everything hurt. If Stan hadn’t been sure his associates had left him to die before, he was now, because there was no way they’d risk getting caught in the crossfire just to save him. In fact, part of Stan wondered if him winding up dead had been a part of their plan all along.

Stan desperately wished Ford would realize something was wrong and come out to help him. Wait… Wait. A. Minute.

“FO -ah!” Stan gasped, bile hitting the back of his throat when an especially well aimed kick was delivered to his abdomen. Stan took a shallow breath and swallowed hard, fighting the short wave of nausea before he opened his mouth again, determined to call Ford before they could do any more to him. The name sat dead on his lips when Stan felt cool metal press against his neck.

Paolo smiled down at him, all teeth and malice and hatred that Stan did and didn’t understand at the same time, and when Stan felt the blade bite into his skin he bit his tongue to keep from making any noise that could be interpreted as fear or weakness, knowing from experience that those got you dead faster.

“Nobody’s gonna save you this time, snitch.”