#magicalshy

[nightfoliage]

Fic - Falling Into You

Pairing: Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines - Stancest

Prompt: Ford and Stan fall into the bottomless pit.

Summary: Ford and Stan come back to Gravity Falls in order to see their family for the summer. However, not everything is resolved between them.

Tags and Warnings:  Incest, established relationship, Ford being a creeper, obsessive behavior, watching people without their permission, toilet activity (not sexual), denial, falling (literal), light angst, and characters accepting death too easily. And kissing. More dark than I usually write, but I don’t think it’s as dark as the tags make it out to be.

Author’s Note - This is a gift for @magicalshy!!! I’m sorry it took me so long to fulfill this prompt. I hope you enjoy it~

This was written before Journal 3 came out. (I brushed the dust off, and it took me a while to edit, but it’s here now!) Might be a bit obsolete as a result. 

Word Count: ~4700

Read below or on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12077613/chapters/27589686

 The journal falls onto the table noisily and without grace. It shakes various objects around the table with its landing, but Ford manages to steady the most important thing on the table: his coffee. He frowns at the near loss of his beverage, but that expression is wiped away when he spots the journal on the table. Ford abandons his coffee and snatches the journal up and tucks it under his arm.

 “Where did you find this?” Ford asks. He tries to keep the question light, but can’t help the suspicion creeping into the tone.

 Stan doesn’t answer, simply keeps his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

 Ford’s eyes dart to it’s last known hiding place, taped behind the bookshelf. He had been sure Stan wouldn’t find it there.

 Stan follows Ford’s look. When Stan’s eyes lands on the hiding spot, his gaze intensifies.

 “Did you read it?” Ford asks.

 Stan doesn’t answer, but his fists tighten and Ford can hear his knuckles audibly crack.

 A resounding ‘yes.’

 Ford sighs and rolls his eyes.

 Before Ford can explain the new journal, (why he’s keeping, how important it is, how Stan really shouldn’t worry about it) his twin audibly growls and leaves the cabin. From the stomping, Ford can tell that his brother is now clomping around deck, messing with the sails, fiddling with the ropes, and bring an utter nuisance.

 Ford rolls his eyes again continues to drink his coffee.

 Stan can do whatever the hell he wants, Ford is not going to go chasing after him when he’s clearly emotional. A year on a boat with his twin has taught him that sometimes it was best to let Stan’s anger ride out than to experience it head on. Sooner or later his twin will calm down and see reason.

 -000-

 Stan hasn’t spoken to him.

 Besides an odd grunt, or a look in his direction, Stan doesn’t even acknowledged him, let alone talked to him. And it doesn’t seem like Stan is going to talk to him anytime soon.

 Ford thought he could hold out, wait for Stan to come talk to him, but he’s not sure he can wait any longer.

 He’s.. lonely.

 Maybe Ford has become, dare he say spoiled with the amount of attention he’s received from Stan for the past year?

 They no longer share a bed, Stan takes to sleeping up deck at night under the stars. They don’t share meals, Stan eats at odd hours: before he wakes up, small snacks while they’re sailing, and definitely after he falls asleep.

 Most noticeably, they don’t talk anymore.

 It’s the absence of their conversations that drives the last nail in the coffin for Ford.

 Talking to Stan is easy. Even in the beginning when they were still shying away from revealing too much, from being themselves again, they could fall back into old habits. The words were mostly frivolous, they hadn’t been brave enough to talk about anything else. But they could talk enthusiastically to each other, about boat types, about outfits and rations, about who had more sailing experience.

 Arguments about the best fish bait led to sharing stories about Dipper and Mabel. For the two old men, it was so much easier to open up about the kids then themselves.

 Then it couldn’t be helped that they started to talk about their years apart. It inevitably lead to them talking about their years together. They started talking about their past selves, nostalgia thick in their voices, sharing their old memories together.

 It wasn’t all easy. Not every memory was some light hearted conversation. There were many rough nights that ended in shouts and slammed doors. (But they never touch, not when they’re angry.)

 However, the conversations- and arguments, are what they needed.

 When they had been young, they were so open with each other and completely closed to everyone else. No one could penetrate the shell that they had wrapped themselves in. In their situation it wasn't surprising that their isolation made them close themselves off to everyone, including their twin.

 Each conversation helped them air the room, open up, and heal.

 Even now a good talk with Stan can make Ford emotional. A good talk can warm his heart, make him smile and laugh, and- make him happy.

 Ford hasn’t heard Stan’s voice in days.

 Maybe Ford took for granted the attention his twin has showered on him this past year. He thought he could wait Stan out. He has been without his twin for decades.

 However, this is the first time this year that Ford’s been denied the attention of his lover.

 Although, lack of conversation does not mean that Stan isn’t taking care of him. In fact, that’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed. The ship is kept clean and in fantastic shape. Stan makes food for him every morning, and he often finds a snack for him on the table or the counter. And Stan will still point out anomalies and odd phenomenons to him.

 All without speaking to him

 What he wouldn’t give to hear Stan’s voice at the moment.

 Maybe he should try to initiate the conversation. Perhaps he should even apologize. At the very least he wants to hear his brother’s point of view.

 He tries to, but pauses right before the act. Something dark and bitter curls inside him and tells him to stop, to leave it alone, that he doesn't have to do anything.

 After all, the new journals he’s been writing, well, they’re unorthodox, but his last ones have proved useful, life saving in fact. They help him catalogue their journey. There’s no need to take action.

 Sooner or later the situation will resolve itself one way or another.

 -000-

 Perhaps Ford would be the one to initiate a resolution to the conflict.

 Stan still hasn’t spoken to him.

 Stan continues to take care of him and protects him. His brother clearly has his back in a conflict, but now Stan has barely touched him all this time.

 Stan was always the instigator of the touches between them: a slap between the shoulders, rough pats on the back, grabbing his hand to squeeze, brushing a kiss across his knuckles…

 Ford rubs the space between his knuckles absently, remembering the sensation of Stan’s lips against his skin.

 He shakes his head and tries to put it out of his mind.

 What an extreme reaction to him keeping a journal. Ford didn’t think he deserved the cold shoulder for keeping the journal. It was just data he wanted to keep and remember, something they could both look remember fondly, nothing Ford should be ashamed about.

 He repeats this to himself over and over again, especially when he aches to take Stanley in his arms.

 -000-

 Something has to give, but it’s not going to be Stanford Pines.

 The more Ford thinks about it, dwells on their conversation, mulls it over in his head, the more bitter and angry he gets.

 He imagines their talk a thousand different ways, but in the end, the scenarios he likes best are the ones where they talk about the journal. Hasn’t silence been the cause of their many problems in the past?

 So Ford refuses to break down and be the first one to talk.

 The spite and the strength of his emotions keeps him from letting his loneliness interfere with this creed.

 Instead, Ford has taken to following Stan around without his twins knowledge.

 Oh sure, Stan must know to a certain degree that Ford is aware of him, but this goes beyond  being close simply because the space is small. Ford is constantly shadowing Stan, making sure he always knows his twins whereabouts. He likes to get just close enough so that any sound that Stan makes, he can hear.

 It’s rather tiring, he hasn’t had to be this hyper aware since some of his darker days in the multiverse, but it’s also rewarding.

 He discovers that the go to song that his brother used to sing, a now old dancing number, has been replaced. Some discrete texting with Dipper reveals the song that Mabel, Dipper, and Stan sang together to defeat zombies together.

 Ford finds himself surprised when he sees that Stan is ambidextrous, like himself. He knew that his brother was strong in both arms, and rather proficient when it comes to fighting, but Stan has always favored his right hand, a habit that came from his boxing days. But now Ford knows that Stan can do more delicate work with both hands: cooking, tying a knot, texting, and more.

 Ford feels as if he can’t discover anything new about his brother, until he spots Stan opening a secret compartment in the boat by messing with one of the godawful decorations that his twin loves.

 The first time Stan does it, he’s speechless. He’s listless the whole day, and that night he can’t go to sleep until he rubs the velvet clown painting for himself to see the stash of goodies inside. There are cigars (typical), chocolates (so this was where Stan was hiding them), a stash of prunes (if he could get away with it, Ford would take some), and what looked like trinkets that Stan liked to send back to the kids. When he spots the exotic and weird sea shells and stones, Ford quietly closes the painting and removes any traces of himself.

 Over time, Ford discovers the compartments that his brother has built: in the banisters, the walls, and the crown molding. The clown painting seems to be a one off.

 No wonder Stan had found the journal. Stan probably triggered one of Ford’s secret compartments in the boat.

 It’s a surprise they hadn’t found out about each other’s secrets earlier.

 Finding the first compartment unleashes something in Ford and he looks into all of Stan’s compartments. Most of them are like the first, goodies, gifts, and mementos from the kids. A few others contain money, IDs, and mountains of pictures of their family. It says a lot about Stan that these are the items he likes to keep safe and untouched.

 (Ford wonders what that says about himself. What he hides are his journal, sketches, ideas, concepts that others wouldn’t understand. It’s an old habit, he supposes.

 But Stan isn’t everyone. Stan is someone he should be able to trust with this, especially this.)

 He pushes the thought out of his mind.

 Ford continues to watch Stan, and Stan continues to ignore him.

 Which only increases the pleasure that Ford has over watching Stan without his knowledge. He’s enjoying the chance to watch and observe Stan. He hasn’t had the chance to do this for a long time. He can take his time to observe Stan. (And he’s noticing more about his brother from observing, then by interacting with him. Interesting.)

 Then there are times where can’t observe, but can only look at Stan in awe.

 Stan is beautiful.

 From the lines of his body, to the way he moves, Stan is beautiful.

 Ford finds himself staring at Stan every chance he can get.

 (And if Ford find himself staring a little too long, a little too much, if he starts to record Stan instead of just watching him, then that’s his secret. Perhaps recording his brother was crossing a line, but watching the recording is the only way they can be in the same room with him instead of hiding behind a corner out of sight.)

 He watches Stan haul sails, call the kids, and even listens to him when he’s in the bathroom.

 (Ford is strangely fascinated by the way his brother goes to the bathroom. There is something about hearing his brother’s waste hitting the water that interests him and he wonders if it’s anything like his bowel movements.)

 And maybe he is becoming too obsessed.

 The watching, the recording, it’s not healthy, Ford can admit to that. However, admitting to having this problem doesn’t stop Ford. He’s replacing their interactions with the watching but his fixation hasn’t quite approach Bill Cipher levels, so he thinks he’s okay for now (maybe).

 They should talk to each other instead of continuing their purposeful passive aggressive ignorance of each other.

 Ford doesn’t allow himself to be the one start a conversation. This is Stan’s problem with him, therefore it should be Stan’s responsibility to solve this if he thinks it’s a problem.

 -000-

 Days have passed, the kids have been messaging them pictures of their last days of school, they’re docking at the pier in Gravity Falls and Stan hasn’t initiated a conversation.

 It’s worrying Ford. He’s reluctant to even eve consider it, but he may have to be the one to initiate the talk. Perhaps he could manage it before they reach the Mystery Shack. In the would be best, there was no way Stan would run if he was driving the StanMobile.

 Mind made up, Ford decided not to worry until the time comes to talk. He does his best to be casual and listens in to Stan’s conversation with Tate.

 “Hey Tate, you treatin the StanMobile well?” Stan says with a grin.

 (Ford twitches. Stan hasn’t looked at him let alone smiled at him.)

 “Don’t worry, Stan, the car’s going a-okay. You staying for the summer?” Tate answers.

 “Yeah, Mabel and Dipper are coming back in a few days. I’ll bring them around sometime.”

 “Tate snorts. “Maybe this time you’ll catch your own fish instead of stealing them,” Tate says, but without any malice.

 Stan launches is a tirade about he’s actually bring more business for Tate, thank you very much, and how he just happens to be a very competitive fisher. Tate, used to the ramblings of old men, nods at just the right moments and manages to steer the conversation so that by the end of it Stan is promising to bring the family over and actually pay for fishing equipment. Stan is grumbling at the result, only because he doesn’t want one of the best fishing holes in Gravity Falls to go out of business. Tate thanks Stan for the business.

 Stan goes to get the car ready and Ford is left alone, staring at his twin’s back

 When he finally looks away, Ford notices Tate looking at him. The man tips his hat and Ford gives an awkward wave back. Tate goes back to his business, thank goodness.

 Ford hurries over to the car. He fusses with their belongings and tries not to let his rampant jealousy make him do something rash.

 That’s Fiddleford’s son after all, not just anyone.

 However...

 How could Stan talk to anyone, but not talk to him?

 -000-

 The drive is tense and Ford it too wrapped up his thoughts to make conversation. Stan drives fast, even faster than usual, and they make it to the shack in record time. He parks and gets out of the car to unload the back. Ford follows Stan through the back entrance.

 Stan hesitates near the stairs. Ford looks down and thinks he knows what’s this about. Is Stan going to try and sleep in a different room from him.

 The thought gathers and boils up inside him. He tosses the bag to the side, it clatters loudly on the ground and Stan whips around to look at it. His eyes are wide.

 “Ford-”

 Ford slaps a hand over his brother’s mouth and surprisingly Stan lets him. Ford slowly removes his hand and Stan stays quiet although he’s clearly confused. Ford stalks over to his bag first and then returns to drag Stan out the door.

 Stan follows along, obedient and quiet, and somehow that makes Ford angrier. His brother hasn’t been acting himself and Ford’s going to change that once and for all. If Stan wanted an apology, he was getting an apology.

 They make their way across the grounds and away from the Mystery Shack. Stan frowns when he realizes their destination.

 “The Bottomless Pit? Sixer, you know that-”

 Ford whips around and raises the item that caused the whole mess in the first place.

 “You happy?” He yells, holding up the journal. “I’m going to get rid of it once and for all!” Ford waves the journal a little too enthusiastically and his momentum carries him backwards.

 “Ford!” Stan finally moves into action and springs forward. He ignores the journal, eyes only on Ford.

 Ford is having none of that. He takes another step back to get out of Stan’s reach and waves the journal in front of him. This is supposed to be symbolic dammit. Throwing the goddamn journal away was supposed to be another way of apologizing. His brother stopped talking to him because of it’s existence and now he doesn’t care about it? He doesn’t want it gone?

 Well Ford has already made up his mind and what he’s going to do with it.

 He moves to toss the accursed thing into the pit, while Stan moves to catch him. Ford tries to fend his brother off, while Stan desperately tries to lay a hand on him. A moment later Stan has a grip on Ford. Instead of wrenching Stan’s hand off like he intended, he stumbles and brings Stan with him.

 Then nothing matters except for the fact that they’re falling.

 Maybe in a different timeline Ford would be able to react quick enough, but he's tired, his concentration is shot, and all he can think about is the damn journal. He does not swing them back over onto solid ground with their momentum, instead Ford let them fall.

 They’re pressed chest to chest, their limbs tangled together, faces inches away from each other.

 Ford sees Stan’s eyes widen and can see him rear back. Maybe Stan could have saved them, pulled off a miracle, but Ford has a sudden thought. It’s no good if Stan manages to save them after Ford has given up. The hand that’s not wrapped around the journal, wraps around his brother’s middle.

 Ford closes his eyes as he hears Stan softly gasp.

 Now he doesn’t have to stare into Stan’s eyes as they fall for all of eternity.

 He concentrates on the wind whistling past his ears, the warmth of Stan’s body against his own, and the light behind his eyelids that disappears. When it’s gone, he knows they’ve dropped low enough that they can no longer see the sky.

 After all those years, what a way to go-

 Stan sucker punches him in the nose.

 “Ow!” Ford sees stars and grabs his nose. “Ow…” It doesn’t feel like anything is broken, but the punch had come out of nowhere. He opens his eyes and blinks. Stan is pulling away? No, he’s pulling a hand back- Ford realizes Stan’s winding up to take another punch.

 He manages to dodge this one, by hugging Stan closer, but he notes that he swing is half-hearted.

 They spin around in a slow circle, carried by the momentum of the punch. Stan mock struggles and Ford holds him tighter.

 Stan keeps wriggling even as Ford demands, “What was that for?”

 Stan struggles a little bit more and actually growls next to his ear (which makes Ford shiver) before stopping completely. Ford shifts, unintentionally rubbing his cheeks against Stan’s. The other man sighs and turns his head closer.

 Ford’s chest grows tight and he has to stop himself from clinging onto Stan.

 “Well,” Ford muses aloud, “I guess this isn’t the worst way to go.”

 Stan snorts. “Really?” He says.

 The words are soft and affectionate and Ford can feel himself warm up. He wish he could have heard that tone weeks ago, but he’ll take it now. He missed Stan speaking to him.

 Ford hums, happier than he has been in days. “I always thought that I would die by your side.”

 Stan doesn’t reply, but gently nuzzles his ear. Ford is very content with the action and relaxes as Stan wraps his arms around him. Even if this is the end, he’s glad that it’s with Stan.

 “I’m sorry,” Ford finally admits.

 “You’re saying sorry?” Stan tries to pull back, but Ford keeps him locked in the embrace. He would prefer not to look into his brother's eyes when he’s admitting he’s wrong.

 “If saying sorry was all I needed to do to stop this mess, then yes, Stan, I’m sorry.”

 The words echo an older apology, months ago. Why doesn’t he learn from his mistakes. If only he swallowed his pride and tried talking it out with Stan earlier.

 Stan is silent and still.

 Ford doesn’t blame him. He can’t stand the silence anymore and starts spilling more and more secrets into the void.

 “I know you have a- an issue against my journals,” Ford continues, “and I wasn’t thinking about your feelings when I made this one.”

 “Ford-”

 “Let me continue, Stanley.” Stan huffs and Ford can feel his skin tingle. “I just couldn't help- it's habit- to want to keep a journal on things that fascinate me.”

 Stan grumbles a bit, but Ford forges on.

 “You fascinate me, Stanley.”

 Stan’s grumbling stops.

 “The journals are a part of me, they’re part of what kept me sane-” Stan snorts at that, “-yes, they kept me sane, Stan. They were a physical object I could trust that wouldn’t be altered. I’ve always placed my trust in my journals so writing a journal about you…”

 Ford trails off, hoping that Stan will pick up the slack of the conversation, but he doesn’t and Ford has to keep going. He brought this on himself, after all.

 “Okay, maybe keeping a journal…”

 “Filled with smutty drawings of me, Sixer?” Stan interrupts.

 Ford sighs.

 “Smutty- have you been reading Mabel’s romance novels again? And for your information Stanley, I’ve poured myself into those drawings, made sure they were anatomically correct-”

 “And then you put them in a boat, a place where the kids have access too, with a journal obsessed nephew-”

 “I took that into consideration!”

 “Ford, I found the journal and I couldn’t find your other journals for thirty years. Then the kid found it the first day he was here. You do not hide the journals that well.”

 Ford knows the next step to this conversation is that he’s supposed to disagree, make a witty remark benefiting of his intellect, but all Ford can do is close his eyes and curl in closer to Stan.

 Then he starts to laugh.

 This is how things are supposed to be: arguments that later dissolve into long nights where they cling to each other. It’s perfect, Stan is perfect, and all he wants is for this moment to stretch on for eternity.

 But eventually they’ll die.

 The laughter continues to bubble up somewhere inside him and he lets go of Stan. Separated from his brother, Ford can feel the wind again, it’s rushing past his ears and ruffling his hair and clothes. This is really it. After the portal, after Weirdmageddon, after Bill Cypher, after being on the sees with Stanley, this is how he finally dies?

 “Goddammit Ford, we aren’t going to die,” Stan says, gently running a hand over him.

 Ford lets out a giggle that’s just shy of hysterical. He tries to brush his brother off of him. He doesn’t deserve the comfort.

 “But we are Stan, a bottomless pit shouldn’t be possible, but it’s possible in Gravity Falls. I mean, I didn't think we could survive everything that has happened to us and look! Now we’re finally going to end it all, but at least it’ll be by your side, I promised that, and I’m going to be able to keep that promise.” By the end of his rant, Ford is more than a little hysterical, but he hopes he got the point across to Stan.

 Stan sighs and mumbles ‘hot belgian waffles,’ under his breath.

 Hm. Not the reaction Ford is expecting after his impassioned speech. Ford lets his eyes open. He’s surrounded by complete darkness. Isn’t this a hopeless situation?

 Stan blows a breath out, “Ford, we’re going to be stuck in this whole for fifteenish minutes, then we’ll be spit right back out.”

 “Stan,” Ford says slowly, “this is the bottomless pit.”

 Ford can hear Stan scratch his head. “A bottomless pit is considered a bottomless pit if we never hit an end right?” He asks.

 “Yes, that much I can agree with,” Ford replies.

 “Soooo, Sixer, if we’re brought out at the beginning and we never met an end then it still lives up to it’s name, right?” Stan says with a huff.

 Ford blinks, then turns the words over in his head. “Yes. That does seem correct.”

 “It’s the kids all over again,” Stan grumbles. “Listen, Ford, long story short, I fell into the pit once with the kids and it spat us out of the hole, okay? We’re going to come out of this alive.”

 “Oh.”

 “Oh? Is that all you can say?” Stan says with a huff.

 What else can Ford say? He already apologized, already spilled thoughts and emotions out of his mouth because he thought they were dying. What else does Stan want him to say?

 “You’re so fucking dramatic, Ford. Can’t do anything by halves can you,” Stan says, but without any malice. His hands are running over Ford’s face gently, reassuringly, lovingly. Ford lets himself lean into the touch now that he knows that this isn’t the end. Ford thinks about putting up a token argument against the words, but is silenced by a kiss.

 “Making another fucking journal with smutty pictures of me, then stalking me, and finally this? Sixer, you dumb ass,” Stan whispers against his lips, then kisses him again.

 Ford reluctantly pulls away from the kiss. “Are you trying to apologize?” he asks.

 “No,” Stan replies. “You're the one that owes me another apology. And stop apologizing when you think we’re going to die, you better not let this become a pattern, you hear me?”

 Ford has to steal a kiss before he manages to push the words past his lips, “I’m sorry, Stan.”

 Stan snorts again. Instead of discarding Stan’s words, he analyzes them instead. Perhaps he has been apologizing when their lives are threatened instead of apologizing when he should have. It’s a bad habit he’s built.

 After he fell through the portal, there were a lot of instances where Ford could have died. In those moments, Ford has always dreamed of apologizing and making up with Stan. It was his idea of small luxury, devoting some of his brain power to the fantasy instead of his survival.  

 But now Ford isn’t in that situation anymore. He’s no longer alone, trying to get by on his wit and his ego. He has Stan now. He doesn’t have to survive, not anymore.

 He can live now.

 “I’m sorry,” Ford says again. This time the words are heartfelt and he thinks he understands why Stan wants an apology.

 “Hmph.”

 Stan doesn’t sound very satisfied.

 Ford can fix that.

 “How long did you say we had in here?” He asks innocently.

 Stan grumbles, “Time passes weirdly here, maybe ten minutes. Ten long boring minutes.”

 “How about I make it up to you?” Ford says.

 “Oh?” Stan sounds interested, good. Ford wants to be happy with Stan and he can admit the situation interests him.

 Ford  gropes around in the dark for moment, but manages to gently cup Stan’s cheek in one hand, and grips Stan’s hip with the other. He makes sure to flex the hand on Stan’s hip just how his lover likes it. Ford can feel Stan shiver against him and Ford presses his thumb in the space where Stan’s navel and thigh meets.

 Stan fists the front of Ford’s sweater reeling him in. Their foreheads meet unexpectedly, but it makes Stan chuckle so Ford smiles as well. Stan turns just so, and now they're breathing each other’s air, still connected.

 The action makes Ford’s mind go blank and he has to remind himself to keep actively touching Stan.

 “I love you,” Ford whispers, then kisses Stan hard, so he doesn’t have to hear an answer.

 Stan kisses back and lets his hands wander down.

 You’re amazing, Ford wants to say. You’re so wonderful, Ford want to whisper to Stan as they start to struggle out of their clothes. You’re absolutely perfect, Ford thinks and the words repeat over and over in head. He doesn’t get the chance to say the words.

 Later, he thinks. Later, Ford will write it all down in his journal and read it aloud to Stan.