#pretend for the sake of this oneshot that trick or treating is a thing in japan

[junosmindpalace]

“on the count of three. one…” 

“it’s not fair. i got a lot of chips.” 

“two…three!”

at once, four bags with spooky illustrations were turned upside down, and at once, the sound of wrappers crinkling and solids crashing onto the joint up desks in the centre of the classroom created a mass of unpleasant sound.  

“satoru, get away! your pile will mix with mine!”

the bags were shaken extra thoroughly to make sure nothing was caught or remained inside, and were then discarded on the floor with loud swooshes as they cut through the air. 

“oh, come on.” shoko stared in exasperation at the boys' heaps of various candies, chocolates and bags of chips. “why do you two always get the biggest piles?”

“they can’t resist my charm.” gojo puffed out his chest, while suguru only gave him a deadpan look. 

“ready to count?”

the group nodded and the overlapping crinkling noises resumed as hands dived in to sort through the seas of treats of all different sizes and colors. 

halloween, out of all holidays, was one your second year group was always particularly enthusiastic about. it had become a sort of tradition to dress up and go out trick or treating in the neighbourhoods near the school, only to meet back later in the evening to tally up each individual’s candy amount and see who ended up with the largest haul. 

the rules were simple: whoever had the largest combination of candies and chocolates won. chips did not count.

satoru and suguru were usually neck and neck in this competition to you and shoko’s immense frustration. suguru had won the first year, satoru the last. the slimey bastards knew the best neighbourhoods to visit and which suckers would be the easiest to charm into receiving a larger haul. 

you, especially, were determined to claim a victory of your own, taking into account all the best neighbourhoods yourself. you were quite satisfied with your haul this year, and felt that it might be able to rival your friends’ usual heaps.

“a hundred and seventeen!” satoru was the first to declare, slumping back in his seat with a proud smirk and his arms crossed over his chest. “try beating that.”

“ninety six.” shoko groaned as she threw down the last piece of chocolate into her counted pile, reclining back in defeat. 

“one hundred and seven.” suguru finished with a similar defeated tone, leaning a hand on his cheek. 

“a hundred and twenty!” you cheered when you finished your count, jumping in joy over your victory. you were right. this year's haul was fruitful. satoru straightened in his seat in disbelief with a loud “what?!” as he hovered over his seat to examine your pile. 

“whoa, off by only a few? some bad luck.” shoko chuckled as she reached across the desks toward your pile. “it’s about time someone else got the lead over you two. let me have a chocolate bar.”

satoru huffed, collapsing back into his chair and pressing his cheek up against the table as he watched you start to dig into your pile of goods. 

“you two needed to be humbled.” you stated matter of factly as you tossed a piece of chocolate into your mouth. your makeup was starting to wear off, accessories of your costume removed and set down somewhere in the classroom after a tiring night out. 

“don’t get so proud, now. you won by one.” satoru grumbled through the plastic fangs in his mouth. his cape draped lazily over his figure as he slumped, shielding him in a sort of mourning figure. 

“still won.” you rebuttled simply and proudly, shooting him a sickly sweet smile as you turned your nose up at him. satoru’s lower lip jutted out in frustration. suguru watched the exchange with raised brows and a roll of his eyes. 

“you had a hundred and twenty five.” suguru said suddenly on his walk home from the school with satoru, their hauls secured back into their bags at their sides. satoru had taken out his fangs and was sucking on a lollipop when he turned his head in confusion.

“huh?”

“you had a hundred and twenty five candies by the end of the night. i heard you counting on our way back. why’d you say otherwise?”

satoru blinked owlishly before taking the lollipop out of his mouth. he stared up at the dim yellow street light as if in thought.

“well, y/n was really eager to win. embarrassingly eager, even.” satoru rolled his eyes. “seemed certain of their victory.”

“so?” 

satoru was quiet for a moment, still staring up at the sky. “i didn’t want to ruin that.”

if there were ever times suguru was caught off guard by something satoru said, this moment took the crown. he stared in surprise at satoru’s reflective expression, his pale cheeks tinted pink from the cool crisp air.

this expression however, got satoru defensive, and he stubbornly turned back toward him with a defiant look on his face. “what about it?”

suguru eventually blinked and straightened. “nothing. that was nice of you.”

“now i’m regretting it though.” satoru tried to diverge, sticking the lollipop back into his mouth. “with all that bragging.”

“that’s how you sound, you know.” 

if suguru wasn’t busy keeping going over a game plan for securing a large haul, perhaps he would have been able to catch on to the tender look on satoru's face as he basked in your enthusiasm over the decorations and the costumes and the atmosphere. if suguru wasn't keeping track of his own pile, maybe he would’ve been able to spot satoru gently placing a handful of his own chocolates into your bag while you, at one point, left it unattended. and maybe if he wasn’t so amused by satoru’s "distress" over being outdone, he would’ve been able to catch on to the small smile that danced on his lips as he watched you celebrate your victory and enjoy your favorite chocolates. 

maybe if suguru wasn’t so tired he’d would've been more attentive, use the clues to make a connection that would make excellent blackmail. but the night stretched out longer than usual and he was already thinking of all the missions he’d be out on due to the onslaught of curses produced tonight. 

this was to satoru’s immense relief. and as he parted ways with suguru, he reflected back on their conversation and hoped that you had been too enamored with your victory to notice anything either.

[nightfoliage]

Fic - Trick, Treat, or Change

Series: Gravity Falls

Pairing: Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines - Stancest

For: @wannabeagrunklefan

Prompt: Ford and Stan’s first Halloween together after the finale.

Prompts for @a-stancest-halloween (traditional category): Candy flavored kisses, pumpkins and jack o lanterns, Halloween on the Stan o War, Trick or Treat

Tags: incest, twincest, canon verse, third person, mostly Ford’s POV, unreliable narrator, injuries and description of injuries, amnesia, selective amnesia, lies of omissions, Halloween, Pines Family, extended family and friends, gratuitous amount of emotions, fluff, romance, kissing, tropes tropes tropes, A Stancest Halloween

Word Count ~16.3k

Summary: It’s like a dream come true on the Stan o’ War. Stan and Ford are having the time of their lives; having action packed adventures, traveling to unknown lands, and discovering anomalies together.

But when the adventures end, they find themselves unsure what to do with themselves. They haven’t lived together or talked to each other in years and it shows with every awkward silence.

Then October rolls around and Stan bring a blast from the past. They decide to celebrate Halloween like they’re kids again. Suddenly they’re getting along and are closer than ever. Ford’s enjoying all these changes and the celebrations. Stan is really going to town with all these very familiar Halloween traditions...

Author’s Note: I had a lot a lot of fun with this one, but it was a pain to edit. It’s a whopping 50 page oneshot. If you enjoy the fic, let me know. I was considering doing one from Stan’s POV. Hope you guys enjoy~

Read below or on ao3:

“Pines! Pines! Pines!”

The kraken swings a tentacle in their direction, but it’s too late, their boat is sailing off into the distance. The creature makes a truly dreadful croaking sound, but the Stan’s are already laughing it up. They wind their arms around each other’s shoulders and cheer even with the wind and the waves crashing against them.

The boat swings dangerously towards the water and they break apart to man the ship. Ford goes to steer while Stan controls the sail. They work in tandem with each other, easily navigating the rough waters.

There are a few close waves, but they eventually break out of the storm into calm waters. The rain clouds are behind them and they can see the stars. The starlight shines brilliantly against the night sky and reflect against the water.

Then Stan breaks into a yawn, which causes Ford to break into a yawn.

They chuckle and start slapping each other’s backs before getting to their nightly routines. They set the anchor down and start folding the sail. Then they enter the cabin.

Stan immediately starts stripping and piles his wet clothes in the corner for later. He snags some water, then he strides off towards the bathroom.

Ford frowns at the mess.

��Stan, I’m going to throw your clothes outside!” Ford hollars after him.

Stan makes a positive sound, which makes Ford sigh. It was supposed to be a threat not a favor. Maybe Stan could endure salt crusted clothing, but Ford been on the run for enough years that he was going to enjoy having clean clothes after an adventure.

Instead of tossing Stan’s clothes out like he threatened, Ford scoops them up so he can hang them up to dry. Then he takes off his jacket and his shoes and puts those aside. He can deal with those later after chronicling their latest adventure. Pulling his latest journal out, he starts writing about their encounter. It was always best to write things down while the events were fresh.

Meanwhile, Stan heats up the water in the tank and makes sure to drink his water. He takes out just enough hot water to wipe himself off and to rinse himself. He doesn’t like roughing it, but old habits die hard. Even the word “rationing” makes Stan want to start to counting their money. Instead he takes inventory of their pantry everyday and keeps the showers to a minimum.

Once he’s clean and dry he goes out to the kitchen to heat up some hot soup for them before they go to sleep.

Then he spots Ford.

The man is still in his wet clothes for pete's sake! All twelve of his fingers must be going blue and Stan bets that Ford hadn’t even hydrated. They were miles and miles away from shore. What would happen if Ford got sick?

To add insult to injury, the thing that grabbed Ford’s attention is one of those dang journals. Didn’t those things cause enough trouble?

Stan goes over to the table and snatches the journal.

“Hey! The ink wasn’t dry!” Ford cries out.

“The ink wasn’t dry,” Stan snorts. Before Ford can protest, Stan manhandles his brother out of his chair, then out of his wet clothes, and pushes him into the shower.

Ford grumbles the whole time, but goes about taking a shower when he realizes the water is hot.

In the meantime, Stan hangs up his brother’s clothing then heats up vegetable soup for the two of them. It’s one of the recipes Mabel and Dipper sent over, which means it has plenty of fiber, is easy to eat without his dentures, but flavorful enough that Stan won’t complain about eating old people food. He waters it down. It’ll last longer and they’ll get more water this way.

When it’s heating, Stan’s attention is brought back to the journal on the table.

He sighs and turns it towards him. A picture of the Kraken looks out from the page at him. Stan admires the picture. It’s a great rendition and the story will be a hit with the kids. He gently brushes a finger against one of the tentacles and his fingers come back black. Stan frowns. The ink really wasn’t dry.

Keeping an eye on the soup, Stan gently blows on the page until the image is dry. He double checks the rest of the pages, also dry, then gently shelves the journal along with the others.

In the other room, Ford is enjoying his shower. The hot water is heavenly and he makes sure to use his favorite soap and loofah. He lets the water wash his previous irritation with Stan away and indulges in thinking about what adventure the two of them will have next.

When he’s finally done and dry he goes to get dressed in their room.

Ford lightly shivers. It was probably a good idea to take a hot shower after the cold rain.

He shivers again and rubs his arms. Or maybe the boat was getting cold. It wasn’t summer anymore, they were well into September and they were traveling pretty far north.

He puts on another layer and grabs a layer for Stan. Then he starts the heater. Ford’s coming off the adrenaline and it isn’t long before they both crash. Stan in particular has worries about the cold, so Ford points the heater towards Stan’s bed.

When Ford goes into the kitchen, Stan has already doled out soup for the both of them. He tosses the jacket to Stan, who puts it on.

They’re both exhausted and crashing from their high so they eat in silence.

Or maybe that’s just on Stan’s end, because Ford would love to talk about the kraken, but Stan has already put away his journal. Sometimes Ford can get passionate about the journals, so he can understand why Stan might want some quiet time before bed.

Unbeknownst to Ford, Stan is having similar thoughts. Stan wants to ask how the soup is so he can report back to the kids. And he wouldn’t mind staying up longer, but Ford seems a little subdued. Maybe he’s still sour about Stan putting away the journal.

After they finish their meal they quietly get ready for bed. They settle in for the night. The room is warm, their bellies are full, and it’s quiet. The conditions are perfect for sleeping, however neither of them do.

Instead, Ford is perfectly still, turned away from his brother, pretending to sleep. He keeps his breathing even and silent because he doesn’t want to disturb Stan.

Stan is turning and adjusting every few moments, trying to get comfortable. His breathing is a bit heavy, but the movement and the sound isn’t very different from his resting state.

Neither of them talk to each other even though they desperately want to.

-000-

Ford and Stan have a few more adventures that go perfectly (depending on your definition of perfect). The important thing is that they’re the best of partners and manage to get through every obstacle whole and alive.

However, they’re still working on being civil to each other in their downtime. Often times, they avoid each other. One is outside while the other is indoor, or they’re in different areas of the deck, or they try not to be in the same with each other besides when they sleep or talk to the kids.

It’s tiring and when they find themselves restocking at a port city, they make excuses to separate from each other.

When Ford is out of range, Stan calls Mabel and Dipper. He opts out of calling them face to face, instead only leaving the audio on.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel shrieks into the phone.

“Hey, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper says, just enthusiastically but not as loud.

It makes Stan chuckle and smile. Totally worth the loss of hearing. “Hey, kids! I had a few minutes so I wanted to call.”

Immediately Mabel and Dipper fill in their uncle about the going ons in their lives. Middle school is both simultaneously the greatest and the worstest (Mabel’s exact words). The worstest, because of puberty, cliques, and they’re in separate classes all the time (on purpose, the school tries to separate twins). But the greatest because unlike elementary, there are tons of people and they’ve found their respective niches in school.

Luckily, their new friends are cool enough to accept Dipper and Mabel’s close relationship. They’ve gotten more friends out of it as a result.

“So what about you, Grunkle Stan? What’s shaking?” Mabel asks when they’ve finally exhausted the topic of school.

Well, Stan was hoping being on a boat together would solve all of his problems with his brother, but apparently even the Stan o’ War can’t produce miracles.

Instead, Stan talks about teenage appropriate adventures for the twins. However, he makes the mistake of mentioning the soup.

“Oh yeah, Ford and I tried the soup recipe. It was great,” Stan says off-handedly. He’s staring at some potential provisions for the boat.

“You liked it? How about Grunkle Ford? Was there enough fiber?” Dipper asks.

“Uh...” Now that he thinks about it, Ford never mentioned whether or not he liked the soup. And he never did ask.

Well, a small fib couldn’t hurt them.

“Oh, he thought it was great, and a great source of nutrition,” Stan says.

There, that was something Ford would say.

“Can I talk to him? He had some strong opinions on the necessity of onions, but I thought it might be okay if they were cooked instead of raw,” Dipper goes on.

“Yeah! You there, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel pipes in.

Stan mentally curses.

“Sorry kids, he can’t come to the phone,” Stan says.

“Can’t come to the phone? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. We just aren’t shopping together.”

There’s silence from the other end. Then the twins start whispering quietly enough that Stan can’t pick up their words.

Mabel speaks first: “Are you two fighting, Grunkle Stan?”

“What? No,” Stan automatically says.

“Are you sure, Grunkle Stan? Everything’s okay between you and Grunkle Ford?” This time, Dipper is the one to pose the question.

Stan hesitates, which was probably the worst thing he could do. The kids could smell blood in the water.

“Ah ha!” Mabel exclaims loudly into the receiver. “Grunkle Stan! Just tell us what’s wrong!”

“There’s nothing wrong between the nerd and I,” Stan says.

“If there’s nothing wrong, then why are you so defensive?” Dipper asks, while Mabel makes a noise of agreement.

There’s nothing wrong with him and Ford, it’s just not going right.

“You know, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper starts, “If there’s something I’ve learned over this summer it’s that talking things out can solve a lot of problems.”

“Yeah! And that you shouldn’t assume everything is okay,” Mabel adds.

“Oh, and you should definitely not keep secrets that could affect the fate of the world from your twin. That’s a big one,” Dipper says quite sagely.

“And if worse comes to worse, just hug it out!” Mabel finishes.

“Yeah, that couldn’t hurt to try,” Dipper agrees.

“We’ll see, kids,” Stan says, not agreeing or promising them anything.

Luckily, they do not call him out on his ambiguous statement. They let him change the subject to another adventure. Then they talk a bit more before hanging up.

The world is suddenly silent after the call ends. He doesn’t allow himself to wallow in the silence, instead he considers the twins’ advice. If there was anyone that knew how to work out twin problems, Mabel and Dipper would be the ones to ask. And their advice was sound: talking through things, don’t assume, don’t keep secrets, and hugging it out.

Stan has to blink a few times to stop himself from getting emotional. He’s proud of these kids. They’ve grown so much since they first came to Gravity Falls, they’ve become so brave and smart.

He just doesn’t know if he can do the same.

After all, the root of the issue is that everything is perfect. He’s living the dream. Going on adventures with Ford on the Stan o’ War was everything he ever wanted. Hell, he’s gotten more than what he ever dreamed of: a family and a great place he can call home.

So maybe the root of the problem is just Stan and the fact that he’s in love with his twin and wants more.

-000-

“I don’t know what it is, Fiddleford. There’s this tension between us that just doesn’t dissipate,” Ford explains.

Apparently, Ford and Stan had the same idea. While Stan was restocking and talking to the kids, Ford was restocking and calling Fiddleford. (Although he and Fiddleford were repairing their friendship, Ford found talking to a fellow colleague about his issues much less embarrassing than talking to his niblings. At least Fiddleford was a good sport about listening to his problems.)

“What kind of tension, Ford?” Fiddleford asked.

“I don’t know how to describe it. We work together perfectly, we have each other’s backs, we practically read each other’s minds! I’ve never had a better partner- oh, I mean-”

“It’s fine, Ford. I get that you and Stan are twins. You have a relationship that is unique. There’s not much that can match that, I understand,” Fiddleford says.

Ford lets out a sigh of relief. They haven't gotten around to talking about their past partnership. Fiddleford doesn’t remember all of it and Ford was possessed for more time than he would care to admit.

“How about we try something, Ford? Instead of thinking of the now, what about the future? What do you want to change about your guys’ relationship?”

Ford thinks of his journals and their adventures.

“I’ll go first,” Fiddleford starts.

Ford’s lucky that Fiddleford’s leading this conversation and that he knows what he’s talking about. The man has always been the people person out of the two of them.

“I’m glad to be living with my son, Tate again. We’re reconnecting. However, I’ve been away for so long, not myself for so long, that he hasn’t relied on me for anything for years…”

That sounded familiar.

And it sounded like a good idea…

“Now your turn, Ford. And you can’t use what I said.”

Damn.

“Well...” Ford didn’t know where he was going with this. He started with their most recent interactions. “It would be nice if Stan stopped draping his wet clothes everywhere.”

“Go on,” Fiddleford encourages. His voice is very non judgemental and Ford feels himself relaxing.

“He could take better care of himself.” Then Ford thinks back to Stan slamming his journals shut. “And if he has a issue with things he should be able to tell me.”

“What else?”

“I think that’s the biggest problem,” Ford thinks of all the time they spend in silence around each other. “We’re just not talking to each other. It’s not like how things used to be.”

“Stanford…” Fiddleford’s voice is gentle and Ford is almost afraid to hear what the man will say next. “From what you’ve told me, not talking was an issue you two had in the beginning.”

Ah yes, the science fair experiment. Maybe if they had just talked- no. They had started down different paths even before that tragedy.

“I think that you two should talk,” Fiddleford suggestions.

Ford made a pained noise into the phone.

Fiddleford chuckled.

“At the very least, how about trying to be friendly again?”

That was a little more doable. They were best friends before when they had lived together for years. Maybe living together again would rekindle things.

“Thanks, old friend. The advice is appreciated,” Ford says after a sigh.

“Why all you have to do is ask,” Fiddleford teases.

Ford snorts. “Are you sure you aren’t helping me because you love gossip? How’s the town, know everybody’s business now?”

Fiddleford mock gasps. “Why Stanford Pines, how could you accuse me of such a thing.”

“Quite easily, Fiddleford,” Ford says. “Thank you.”

“Well, you’ve learned how to say thank you, talking and getting along with your brother will be as easy as pie,” Fiddleford says.

Ford chuckles, “I suppose it could be.”

Unable to take anymore discussion about feelings, Ford segues into their most recent scientific discoveries. Fiddleford allows it and they chat about their recent projects. Ford focuses on the adventures instead of the creatures (Fiddleford was never interested in them and now had negative associations with them), and Fiddleford tells him about all the inventions that he’s made within the last week (over a dozen). Fiddleford also keeps him appraised about the town. Everybody seems to be doing well. Soon Ford and Stan will receive their own update from Soos and Wendy.

Finally, they end their call.

Ford is glad to have a friend like Fiddleford. That man was the most well-adjusted soul he ever met, and that including the Old Man McGucket personality.

Ford ponders Fiddleford’s advice, slowly reviewing their conversation. In conclusion, Ford decides that the only course of action is to try and get along with his brother.

Talking about their feelings, getting everything out in the open, admitting his feelings, well, that can wait.

-000-

In the end, neither of them get the chance to talk.

When they leave port it starts raining everyday. Each day is wet and gloomy and neither Ford nor Stan feel like doing anything but trying to stay dry and warm. They talk about going back to land, but decide to tough it out. A little rain never killed anyone.

Then the storm rolls in.

One moment they’re asleep in their beds, the next moment Ford finds himself falling out of bed while Stan finds himself pressed against the wall.

They scramble to get dressed and run outside. Bad idea. The door barely opens because they’re being battered in all directs by the wind. They force the door open and see their boat in the middle of a hurricane.

“HOW DID WE NOT NOTICE A HURRICANE!” Stan yells so he can be heard over the roar of water and wind.

“IT DOESN'T LOOK NATURAL!” Ford yells back.

“NO KIDDING!”

They both hustle to make sure their sail doesn’t get ripped off by the wind. After that’s done, they go and secure the rest of the deck.

Then things start to get weird.

“Is that a fucking face in the clouds?” Stan swears. They’re roped together for safety, now within hearing distance of each other. Unfortunately they need to stay outside to make sure the boat doesn’t capsize.

“It’s an illusion in the clouds- oh that is a face.”

Something inhuman peeks out from out of the clouds, lightning surrounding its features. The face is round and storm cloud grey with large round eyes and a large grin. It is gigantic and their small boat doesn’t even register to such a giant.

Lighting cracks down from the sky and rain continues to pelt them as the wind tosses them around.

Then the lightning arcs across the water.

“What the-“

Then droplets start to fly across their vision.

“Oh no,” Ford manages to say before he starts to cling to the ship.

The anomaly is starting to affect gravity.

Ford immediately reaches for Stan, who reaches back.

Ford tells himself that they’re tied together, that they’re holding each other, that it’s only a storm they have to weather through. This is nothing like the portal.

His body starts to lift of the ship.

He hates gravity anomalies.

Until this event is over, he won’t let go of Stan.

Their boat get pulls in every direction and the end up in the eye of the storm. Thunder continuously cracks and booms around them, while the lightning seems to be coming from all directions. It’s not just coming from the sky but from the air and the water.

They hold onto the boat for dear life and manage to wrap their arms around each other. Only the rope from the sail and their combined weight is holding them down.

The winds and rain are beating against their back, practically blinding them but out of the corner of Ford’s eyes he spies a bolt of lightning streak closer to them.

Ford pales. He thinks of the metal plate in his skull. It’s only a matter of time before he’s hit.

“We’re getting out of here!” Stan yells.

He starts to move and Ford clings to him.

“Hold onto the rope!” Stan yells and moves to let go.

Ford grabs onto the rope (which is attached to Stanley, he hasn’t let go of him yet), as Stan maneuvers to the cabin so they can get inside.

The boat jolts and Ford finds himself thrown upward. He’s still holding onto the rope as Stan yells his name.

The lightning is closer now and any moment he’ll be hit.

The rope becomes slack in his hands and he tries to twist towards Stan. He can see Stan, see that he’s approaching Ford now. He hopes Stan doesn’t slip off the boat, because he’s not in the position to save him.

Then he feels himself move in a different direction.

Another gravity change?

The rope is now tight in his hands and he’s moving. It’s Stan, reeling him in.

Wait, he’s not pulling him in, he’s actually using himself as a pivot to spin Ford towards the cabin.

Gravity changes again and instead of floating, Ford finds himself starting to move through the air. His body starts spinning and he can’t maneuver himself. He stops when his body hits something solid. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t let go of the rope. Instead he curls in on himself, trying to protect himself as he slams into something else when the gravity changes again.

Eventually, the gravity shifts stop and Ford finds himself on solid ground. He takes a moment to catch his breath. Every part of him is cold and numb and everything that isn’t, hurts to hell. Ford forces himself to flex his fingers which makes him groan in pain when he realizes they’re smushed against the floor and his body.

Luckily, he is still holding onto the rope.

Ford manages to tug up on it and feels a weight at the end. There’s an answering tug back.

Ford wants to laugh in relief. He’s glad he didn’t let go.

The pain from his fingers makes him roll onto his back where he spasms and gasps in pain. His whole back is on fire, but he can’t move, can only let his body tremble to relieve the sensation.

After what feels like eons, Ford curls in on himself. It brings him some relief, brings back that numb sensation and Ford feels his mind slowly lower into itself and he drifts off...

-000-

Ford feels himself sit up and start hacking. He’s not getting enough oxygen, but his body doesn’t want to breath. Instead his body wants to spit out all the phlegm and god-awful water that’s blocking his throat. He takes a few shuddery gasps before he’s forced to start coughing again. His throat burns and his head hurts, but even more terrible is how sore he is. Every forceful movement is hell on his body and he clutches at himself trying to get a hold of himself.

After coughing up what feels like the whole damn ocean, Ford manages to breath normally.

He takes his time to simply breath.

He would collapse into himself except he knows that will only bring him more pain. He sways and he tries to steady himself.

Ford hisses when his hands hit the floor. His hands are on fire, but the ground is cool and brings him some relief. After cooling them, he manages to unglue his eyes open. Surprisingly his glasses are still on his face, but the lenses are terribly smudged. There’s no energy left in him to clean them so he sweeps them above his head. Then he squints at his hands.

They’re red and raw, with deep indents in them.

He hadn’t even noticed the pain when he was holding the rope-

Stan!

Ford scrambles up and attempts to tugs on the rope. Unfortunately he finds his balance has left him and he walks sideways until his side meets a wall.

He swallows a curse and uses the wall to keep himself upright.

Then he notices that he’s actually in the cabin. Stan’s maneuver worked. He ended up inside.

The rope trails outside onto the deck.

There hasn’t been an answering tug.

The thought of Stan lying unconscious while he’s safe inside-

Ford manages to gather his strength and slowly makes his way out. Despite the terrible rope burns, he grabs the rope again and starts following it to its end.

The sun is too bright when he leaves the safety of the cabin and he squints, willing his eyes to adjust faster.

There’s a low groan in front of him which spurs Ford forward.

There’s Stan, alive, sitting up, and groaning.

“Stan,” Ford rasps. The words sends him into another coughing frenzy. Not again, not when he’s so close.

“Ford,” Stan says.

Ford tries to answer, but he can’t stop coughing.

“Ford.”

Stan sounds closer now and more urgent. Ford manages to calm his coughs into gentle wheezing with gasping breaths when he feels a familiar hand grasp his arm.

“I’m fine,” Ford manages to say. Luckily his coughing seems to have abated.

Stan grasps at him desperately and maneuvers so his rubbing Ford’s back

Finally Ford gets a good look at Stan.

He looks terrible. His whole body is hunched and one of his arms is dangling next to his side. There are deep bags under his eyes and his nose is crooked, there’s even blood on his face. He must have broken his nose. His hair is messy, but luckily that’s it.

Burned hair would have been a clear indicator that Stan had taken a lightning strike meant for him. He’ll have to do a more in depth examination later, but at least his biggest worry had been abated.

“You look like shit. Good thing I’m the good looking twin,” Stan says, a quirk to his lips. Trust him to be able to find humor in such a situation.

Ford finds himself chuckling anyway. “Well, you were never the smart one,” he answers.

“Heh, that’s for sure,” Stan says. “Come on, let’s go back in.”

Stan uses his good arm to help support Ford. He doesn’t protest this time, he’ll probably return the favor all too soon.

They somehow make their way into the bedroom where they shed their clothes and collapse into bed. They fall asleep immediately.

-000-

Ford wakes up feeling like a giant bruise.

Unfortunately it’s a familiar feeling and Ford manages to get up slowly, but easily. He fumbles around for his glasses and his hands meet something warm.

Stan.

Ford freezes.

Stan doesn’t move and instead continues to doze unperturbed. Ford gingerly removes himself from the bed.

Ford comes to the conclusion that they must have collapsed in Stan’s bed together. No wonder he can’t find his glasses. He finds them, cleans them, and puts them on.

Now he can see Stanley more clearly. His brother is turned away from him and he’s greeted with the sight of Stan’s back. Ford winces, Stan’s back is mottled purple and red from bruises. They make Stan’s burn stand out even brighter; silvery burned skin against dark bruises.

The sight makes Ford want to reach out and trace the lines of the burn.

Just lifting his hand out of the covers makes him shiver. He’s still undressed. First he tucks the blankets around Stan’s shoulder, then he grabs some clean clothes. There’s salt crusting on his skin, but he can take a shower later. Food and drink first, hygiene second.

Ford starts the kettle and looks into the fridge for something to heat up. There’s chili and cornbread in the fridge, one of Stan’s favorites.

Ford’s stomach rumbles at the thought of hot chili and warm cornbread. He starts heating them up when he hears a soft beeping noise.

Oh, its the communication device that Fiddleford made so that they could communicate at sea. The kids must have tried to call them. He checks the calendar and spots that they must have missed a call with them. Ford feels and probably looks like a giant bruise, but the kids would worry. Ford and Stan almost never missed a call. He finishes setting up the food and calls them back.

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel whispers.

“Hi, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper says, just as softly.

“Hello, Mabel. Hello, Dipper.” How odd that they would be so subdued. They were normally quite rowdy.

“Are you okay? You’re calling pretty late,” Dipper asks.

“Yeah, you also look terrible, although I guess that could be the lighting,” Mabel says squinting at the camera.

The lights are off. Ford didn’t realize because he’s gotten used to gritty darkness and they do their best to save on electricity on the boat. Then he realizes how dark it is on the kids’ side. Oh, he must have called the kids in the middle of the night, his early morning. Well, they’re awake so it would be a waste not to talk.

“I just woke up,” Ford says in way of explanation. “Stan and I had a rather invigorating adventure.

“But we called yesterday, were you sleeping for a whole day?” Mabel asks, worry in her voice. Dipper now takes a moment to try and stare at him through the screen.

“I suppose we did sleep the day away,” Ford answers. He’ll have to check the clock to see if that’s true, but he’ll try to act nonchalant about it. “Anyways, why don’t you two give me a quick update and then it’s off to bed.”

Thankfully, they give him the benefit of the doubt and drop the subject. They chatter on about school, giving him updates and telling him that he and Stan should call Soos and Wendy. Ford manages to keep the conversations short and promises to call them again soon with Stan. Soon they’re ending the call with ‘I miss you’s.’

When the call ends, Ford sits back in his chair. The kettle starts to whistle but he doesn’t get up just yet.

“What are you making?”

Ford jumps. It’s Stan, he’s finally awake. Other than the bruises and the sleepiness he looks to be in good shape.

“Let me get that,” Ford says and offers Stan his seat. Surprisingly, Stan goes along with it and sits.

Ford quickly dishes the chili and cornbread, as well as some hot cocoa (another present from Mabel). They have a quiet meal together. Afterwards they do the dishes and go back to sleep.

This is their pattern for a few days: eating, resting, and sleeping. Ford does his best to give Stan some space to recover and use the time alone to think about ways to recover their relationship. He’s comfortable like this, but not satisfied.

Stan uses his time to, well, Ford’s not exactly sure. Maybe he’s using the time to talk to the kids and their friends? Ford found him staring at the calendar one day. He must have hated missing the kids’ call. Stan loves talking to them with or without Ford.

They continue like that, resting, making sure to recover until it all comes to a head.

-000-

“Ford!”

Ford jumps up from his bed and immediately whips his gun towards the door. Stan miraculously disarms him easily and puts the gun elsewhere. Then he shoves Ford’s glasses on his face.

“Look!”

Ford blinks a few times and rubs his eyes.

In front of him are some pancakes.They’re an alarming shape of orange although the pumpkin drawn on them is adorable. It smiles at him and Ford feels himself smile back.

“Thanks, Stan. I’ll eat these in the kitchen?” Ford makes a move to get up, but Stan presses him back into bed with surprising strength. Huh.

Stan hands him a glass of milk before throwing himself into the bed so he’s pressed up against Ford. Ford makes room for him as Stan grabs a pancake and starts to eat messily. He lounges and looks so at home that Ford can’t bring himself to complain about the lack of room and inevitable crumbs on his bed.

“It’s fine, stay in bed and eat,” Stan says around a mouthful of pancake. He grins and his teeth are now orange.

Ford snorts and tries not to think about the fact that he’s eating pancakes with his hands. They’re delicious of course and it turns out the drawing was in chocolate. “These are great, but what’s the occasion?” Ford asks.

“Occasion! What’s the occasion!” Stan looks at him like he’s crazy. “It’s October, Sixer! Best time of the year!”

Ford blinks and then finally remembers. Halloween used to be their holiday. Their favorite holiday. The candy, the decorations, the costumes, but more importantly, it celebrated the things that Ford loved best. Back when they were kids, they could enjoy everything supernatural the whole month and no one cared.

Ford didn’t think that Stan still did their old traditions. He was flattered and was actually very happy that Halloween was still so beloved to Stan. It also explains the about-face that Stan was pulling. Not even the awkwardness from over thirty years of being apart can stop Stan from loving something.

“We don’t have to celebrate the whole month. I mean, we’re on a boat, Stan,” Ford says, trying to give him an out. Just one day of Halloween fun was good enough for Ford. Trying for the whole month without them fighting was pushing it.

“Come on, Sixer! We’re finally having adventures on the Stan o’ War and you don’t want to celebrate Halloween?” Stan nudges him with a mischievous grin on his face. “Come on, action and adventure is great and all, but you can’t forget about celebrating the holidays.”

Ford takes a bite of the pancake to give himself some time, although Stan isn’t waiting on his answer. Stan seems content in relaxing and bed with Ford and getting crumbs everywhere, just like old times. The return to their past selves is what convinces Ford. He missed this.

“Okay, I’m convinced.” Not that Ford needed much convincing. “Let the month of Halloween begin.”

“Yes! Ha! I’ll go plot a route back to land so we can pick up supplies.” Stan stuffs a final pancake in his mouth and dashes out the door.

Ford stares after him and hears an alarming amount of noise that shouldn't be associated with navigation. However, he stays put and finishes his pancakes and his milk (the milk was the perfect accompaniment to the pancakes). Stan knows his way around the boat, he could plot a course just fine.

In the meantime, Ford would get dressed and check his gun. Then he would fix the door. It looks like his brother kicked it down.

He grins. It would be like old times.

-000-

Overnight, Stan livened up their boat with Halloween decorations. There are paper bats and pumpkins on the walls. Anything of theirs that is black and orange is in the forefront. They’ve received some cat shaped nick knacks from Mabel, which have been set out. He’s taken some of their extra netting to make spider webs and Ford spots a jack o’ lantern face on their sail.

Ford makes sure to point out each Halloween item and praises Stan for his creativity. Stan waves him away but is grinning from ear to ear.

It’s beyond what Ford and he has to admit, it cheers him up more than he thought was possible.

They spend hours discussing potential Halloween activities that they can do on a boat. They can do movies, tell ghost stories, do a test of courage, and looks for classic Halloween creatures. But Stan doesn't stop there, he says that it wouldn’t be Halloween without some of the classics so they're off to land to grab some costumes, pumpkins, and candy.

The talk well into the night about how to fit every Halloween related activity possible.

Even when they get into bed, they continue to talk. However, it’s not long before Stan falls asleep. Ford lets him, he had obviously been awake for a long time to put up all the decorations. Ford isn’t even sure Stan can be woken up when he’s sleeping like this: sprawled with his limbs everywhere, snoring away. Stan hasn’t slept like this recently.

Ford quietly gets up from his bed to tuck the blankets under Stan’s chin. Then he heads back to his own bed to get some sleep. It’s difficult, he’s excited about their plans, but eventually he too falls asleep.

-000-

The bad weather seems to follow them and they won’t be able to get back to land for a few days at least.

That doesn’t dampen Stan’s spirits. Instead he scrounges up some fruits and sugar to make ‘candied apples.’

In reality he takes whatever fruit he can find, a rather beaten up apple, some plums, an orange, and dips them in some melted sugar. Then he draws on them with chocolate, cute cartoony black cats and bats and ghosts.

The fruit falls apart at the first bite, and it’s a delicious mess. Stan gets it all over his face, although Ford can’t eat them without getting messy either. He ends up licking his fingers in between bites.

At one point, Stan points at one of the fruit in particular. “Check this one out, Ford.”

Ford looks, but doesn’t see anything unusual about the picture.

Then he feels something warm and wet press against his face.

“Stan!” Ford yelps. Did Stan just lick his face?

Stan waggles his eyebrows and his tongue at Ford. “You’re getting it all over yourself, Sixer.” Then he licks his fingers and goes to wipe Ford’s face again.

Ford bats his hand away.

“Hygiene, Stanley,” he snaps, embarrassed. Luckily, Stan takes no offense and snickers at him while Ford wipes his face. Ford balls up the towel he was using and throws is at Stan, hitting him in the face. “You need this more than me,” he quips.

Stan wipes his face and then tries to whip him with the towel. Ford dodges and uses the table to separate them.

Stan considers the table and then jumps right over it.

They tussle, using all of their wits to make the other concede without messing with the ship. Stan manages to get Ford in a headlock and gives him a gentle noogie. Ford could easily break out of it, but he doesn’t want to hurt Stan. Instead, he lets Stan ruffle his hair.

“Okay, I give,” Ford says with a laugh.

Stan laughs with him and lets him go.

They continue to snicker and laugh as Stan continues to make sweets. He makes more candied fruit that are bite sized and spins the remaining sugar into candies.

Along with the candy, Stan has panned a scary story night. They bundle up and create a makeshift tent against the cabin to block out the worst of the cold. They bring in hot drinks and the leftover candy to munch on. Stan grabs some candles to create the proper ‘atmosphere.’

Amused, Ford goes along with it. Between the light from the stars and the soft light from the candles the atmosphere is anything but spooky. In fact, it’s very comfortable and inviting inside their tent. A great way to enjoy their boat.

“Okay, okay, so I’ll start,” Stan says as soon as they settle. He brings a candle underneath him, trying to be scary, but all it does is cast a glow across his face while the stars illuminate his back.

“It was a normal night, dark and cold and wet, but to the people of a town called Glass Shard Beach, this was nothing new. They slept peacefully not knowing that in the ocean next to them something spooky was brewing…”

Ford settles in for the night as Stan tells the tale. He takes a sip of his drink, letting himself enjoy the story. It’s one he’s heard before, a Glass Shard classic, but it’s the first time he’s ever heard it in Stan’s gravelly tones.

Stan is a great storyteller, building the suspense with every word. Ford oohs and gasps at the right moment even though he knows what’s coming.

When Stan ends the story, Ford claps for him.

“You’re supposed to be scared out of your wits after a scary story, not clapping. I guess the story wasn’t that scary,” Stan says with a shrug. “Why don’t you tell one next?”

Ford makes a ‘hm’ noise and considers his options, “Well, there’s the Jersey Devil, Bigfoot, Mothman-”

“No, no. The Sea Creature story was just a warm-up,” Stan interrupts. “Why don’t you tell a really scary story.”

Falling silent, Ford racks his brain for an appropriate tale. There are a couple that he’s heard in college that would be sufficiently scary and unlikely for Stan to have encountered. But Ford doesn’t want to recycle old material. Stan’s story was fine because it was nostalgic and started the night on a fun note. Now Ford needed a highly original, quality tale.

“Alright,” Ford says aloud, choice in mind. “This is a tale from one of the many alternate universes I visited.”

“You mean…”

“That’s right. This one’s true.

Stan falls silent and frowns. Then he scoots closer so that they’re sitting next to each other, instead of across. Ford moves so that they’re comfortably pressed up against each other. The contact makes it easier for Ford to speak.

“In a far away galaxy…” Ford starts.

Stan gently nudges Ford for that start. Ford grins and continues, the words coming out even easier.

“In a galaxy far far away, I found myself stranded on a terrible planet. Bill’s minions and bounty hunters had chased me through many galaxies and universes, but I managed to lose them. I soon found out why, the surface was uninhabitable to many creatures but below its surface were caverns stretching miles.

“Civilizations and cities all lived in these caves, but the systems stretched for miles further than the people could ever touch. They spanned an impossible distance and these labyrinths were too dangerous to explore.

“My hosts had…”

Ford falters for a moment. The leaders of the city he had been living with had threatened to turn in the bounty. He had felt like he had no choice but to go along with their request. It left a sour taste in his mouth at the thought. Maybe that was a detail he could forgo.

“...pleaded to me to become their champion. And from that day it was decided that I would be the one to conquer the labyrinths.

“The caves were enormous and each turn was deadlier than the next. I encountered every form of wildlife and plantlife that the planet had to offer. I solved puzzles and mazes, seeing places that have never been seen by civilized eyes. I encountered things that would be considered anomalies on that planet and with my wits managed to beat each one.”

Ford continues describing each encounter. In the beginning he had been optimistic, not realizing the scope of his task. Then when he had journeyed further than anyone had every went before did he realize the monumental task that had been in front of him.

He had almost lost hope and perhaps the desperation of his encounters had been made obvious, because Stan slings an arm over his shoulder. Stan stays silent, allowing Ford to continue without interruption.

The touch bolsters him and Ford is able to continue through his bleak experience. It’s almost easy talking about the planet. He’s not there anymore. He’s not in an underground cave, he’s clearly with Stan in the Stan o War, enjoying the stars, the furthest he could be from that experience.

Finally Ford manages to finish this story.

“After the explosion I had discovered a wonderful resource for the people of that city: a sustainable food source and water. They hailed me as a hero and I left that dimension afterwards,” Ford says.

It had been a lucky and favorable outcome for all. In reality he had tried creating a controlled explosion to facilitate his escape, but had discovered the resources instead. The city people had thanked him with supplies that he could fashion into a dimension travel device. He had left before the leaders could use him again.

It was in the past now.

He looks at Stan who’s looking at him sadly.

“I suppose that wasn’t a very scary story, was it,” Ford says. He mentally curses for ruining scary story night. He should have gone with a college horror story, not trauma from his days in the multiverse.

Stan shrugs and Ford can feel the movement because they’re so close to each other.

“Nah, you were fine,” Stan says. “Sounded lonely, though.”

Ford doesn’t reply.

“How about another story then?” Stan says before launching into another tale. He presses some candy into Ford’s hands and Ford munches on them as he listens to Stan tell the tale.

It’s another classic for them, one of Ford’s favorites. Ford lets himself enjoy the telling the human contact, and the sweets. When Stan reaches the end, Ford realizes it’s not the normal ending, but the alternate one they had written together as children to ensure the monster in the story had a happy ending.

They continue to trade stories and eat candy well into the night.

-000-

Eventually, they get to land. Thank goodness, between the long trip and the sweets they’ve been eating, Ford is surprised they hadn’t developed scurvy. Although he’s enjoying the October treats, he can’t wait to have some fresh fruit and vegetables on the ship.

They make a beeline to a local market and manage to purchase their supplies. In addition to their usual things, Stan picks out a selection of local candies and sugar. (Why were there so many types of sugar?) Ford almost groans, but doesn’t want to burst his brother’s bubble.

They’re doing one last trip when Stan stops at a local produce stand. He points at some gourds and attempts to talk to the shopkeeper about them. Ford rifles through his pockets, missing his trans-dimensional translator, but Stan manages to get through a conversation.

Surprisingly, he leaves empty handed.

“Do you need help translating?” Ford asks.

“Did you see how small those things were? Those aren’t proper jack o’ lantern sizes,” Stan says with a shake of his head. Then he starts heading deeper inland. Ford follows him, curious.

Ford looks back and guesses that they’re only about the size of a fist. “Maybe their harvest wasn’t very successful this year.”

“Nah, it turns out that the shopkeeper grew those themself. The ones in the town fields are bigger. Bigger than my head,” Stan gestures.

Ford raises an eyebrow. Gourds that grew larger than human heads? He supposes that if they were related to pumpkins, then they could grow that large.

“But, he said there’s some local superstition that no one can pick them until they receive some okay from their harvest bigwig,” Stan says.

“Interesting. Maybe they aren’t ripe yet,” Ford offers as way of explanation. The other gourds were awfully small.

“Maybe,” Stan says.

They walk out of the populated areas of the market and into the more rural areas of the town.

“We’re going to steal some gourds, aren’t we.”

“Yup. It’s not Halloween without pumpkins and jack o’ lanterns.”

-000-

Hours later they find themselves hiding face down in the mud. A chill sweeps the air making all the hairs stand up on their bodies, but soon the sensation passes. When the coast is clear they peek out from their hiding place.

Ford smacks Stan and hisses, “Stan, when you said that we needed permission from a bigwig, I thought you meant a human! Not- not a blessing from a harvest deity!”

“Shh, not so loud,” Stan says, pulling him down.

Ford shivers as another chill permeates the air.

It leaves again, but it’ll be back.

“We have to run for the ship,” Stan says. “Here take this.”

Out of the mud, Stan pulls out two gourds as big as his head.

“Where were you hiding those?” Ford says, incredulous.

“Doesn’t matter, let’s go,” Stan says ushering them to their feet.

Ford follows Stan’s lead as the man sneaks through the farm and back towards the boat. At one point he starts to sprint and all Ford can do is follow after him.

When there a ways away Stan starts to cackle madly, raising his prize above his head. He looks like a loon and Ford can’t help but chuckle.

“I am the pumpKING!” He yells.

“They’re gourds, Stan,” Ford says, laughing.

“Ha! Then you can be Ford Gourd,” his brother quips back.

Ford groans. “That's terrible.”

A gust of wind presses against their back, followed by a low hiss.

“Shall we..?”

“Yeah, lets book it.”

They save their teasing. Only after they’ve gotten to the boat, taken off, and are unable to see the shore do they laugh. Stan makes sure to scrub them clean before they go to sleep.

-000-

The next day they carve the pumpkins (gourds).

Ford carves out his symbol in his gourd. No need to do anything unnecessary. Stan carves a surprisingly accurate rendition of the Harvest Bigwig (Stan’s name, not his).

It’s a little too realistic. Once they put a light in its the center they back away from it.

“I’m getting pulled into the gravity of its stare,” Ford says. He is unable to look away.

“Yeesh,” Stan quickly takes the light out.

“Maybe we should just eat that one,” Ford suggests, covering it with a towel.

Stan taps at his chin. Then he takes the towel off. “Let me make some changes.”

He grabs the carving knife and gives the ghost some large eyebrows and a wig. Then he draws a gourd into it’s hand. It’s eyes are still soulless abominations, but now they can laugh it off. Stan looks so proud that Ford doesn’t dare suggest they trash it. They set their pumpkins outside. Hopefully Stan’s will get picked off by a bird.

The seeds they toast and the rest of the gourd Stan makes into pancakes and stew.

They spend the rest of their October days fitting in as many Halloween activities as possible in between adventures. There’s food, a lot of their staples made Halloween themed (Ford’s never smiled at oatmeal before, but somehow Stan made it monster themed). There’s games, most of them low tech, food scraps made into fake people parts, a rather destructive game of pin the tail on the lizardman, and a few short games of D, D, and more D.

And they tell each other more stories.

There are scary stories they’ve heard when they’ve been away from each other, some classics, and ones that they made up themselves.

But sometimes they break out the tent just to talk.

They find themselves talking more often. They talk over meals, when they’re manning the boat, and when they’re in bed trying to sleep. Somehow Stan manages to put their beds together (Ford thought they were mounted to the floor) and they continue to talk until they fall asleep.

He’s always had trouble sleeping (something that’s only gotten worse as the years have gone by), from nightmares disturbing his dreams, to an aching paranoia that keeps him awake at night, but lately it’s gotten better. They talk until they tire and even if Ford wakes up from troubled dreams, watching Stan sleep typically pulls him to sleep.

Finally they decide for Halloween they should find land and maybe join in the festivities. Ford has his reservations, he doesn’t know if they’ll get to land, and he doesn’t think they’re near anyplace that celebrates Halloween like they want to, but Stan says it’s an opportunity to share the holiday. If nothing else, they can dress up, project a movie on the sail, and eat more candy.

Over dinner they’re still talking about their plans, when Ford notices that they’re receiving a call from Dipper and Mabel. He glances at their calendar and notes that this is a scheduled call. Time flew by fast. Normally Stan would be raring to talk to them, but they had been rather busy with Halloween plans.

Ford flips open their communication device and connects with them.

“Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Ford!”

His niblings clamor for his attention and it makes him smile.

“Kids!” He exclaims, returning the favor.

“It’s been way too long!” Mabel yells. “ Ooo, are those Halloween decorations?”

“Anomalies and anatomically correct bats, nice Grunkle Ford,” Dipper says.

Ford chuckles, pleased that the kids noticed. It’s nice that their effort get to be seen by others. He should call Fiddleford and the Mystery Shack as well.

“There are more decorations around the boat,” Ford says.

“Oh! Show us!” Mabel says, Dipper nodding along with her.

Ford carries the device, showing them around the boat. He points out the various decorations while the kids ‘ooo’ and ‘ahh.’ He shows them their tent set-up and promises to send them a picture when the stars are out. He points out their gourds and they immediately ask how they got them.

“Let me get, Stan. He started to the whole thing, he should help tell the story,” Ford says and goes back inside.

“Stan, the kids want to hear about how we got the gourds,” Ford says.

“Sure, you know I’m the better storyteller,” Stan says, putting down what he was working on. “Now who’s my audience for today?”

Stan gives Dipper and Mabel a grin.

Ford frowns.

Dipper and Mabel look nervously at each other.

Eventually, Mabel awkwardly laughs and says, “It’s us, Grunkle Stan. Your favorite niece and nephew.”

Stan looks at them confused. “Niece? Nephew?”

Ford almost drops the device.

Mabel is starting to look upset, when Dipper grabs her hand. “Oh Grunkle Stan, I guess you tell every kid that they’re your favorite, huh?” Dipper says, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He’s doing well, except for the fact that he’s sweating profusely. “We stayed in Gravity Falls last summer, don’t you remember?”

“Oh! The place where Ford and I lived for awhile. I met you kids there?” Stan asks, brightening at the explanation.

Mabel squeezes her brother’s hand. Dipper laughs, clearly pained. “Yeah, we met at the Mystery Shack.”

“Well, sorry I don’t remember kids, but maybe the story of the PumpKing and Ford Gourd will make up for it,” Stan says. He settles in to tell the story. The kids do their part as the audience and listen intently to him. Luckily Mabel and more importantly Dipper are good enough to keep Stan’s attention, because Ford is speechless.

How does Stan not remember the kids!

Ford has no answers or theories even when Stan is finished with the story. The kids clap for him and thank him. Dipper and Mabel tell them to have a good Halloween and to take care of themselves. Dipper says that they shouldn’t be strangers and call more often. They pointedly look at Ford, as Stan amicably agrees.

When they disconnect, Stan turns to him. “Nice kids. We built a pretty good life in Gravity Falls, didn’t we?”

He isn’t prepared to lie, isn’t prepared to deal with this situation. The kids helped him last time in Gravity Falls, how is he supposed to do this again by himself?

“Yes, you built a great life there, Stan. You don’t remember Dipper and Mabel?” Ford asks.  

Stan’s brows furrow. “No, they seem familiar. I feel terrible for not remembering them. They looked really happy see us.”

“Well, I’m sure they enjoyed the story,” Ford says. “Speaking of stories, how about we forgo tonight’s, I could use the extra rest.”

Stan doesn’t even question the change in topic. “Sure, Ford. Maybe we have been staying up too late lately. We gotta be fresh for Halloween.”

They do their nightly routine and get in bed. Luckily, Stan quickly drifts off to sleep. When Ford is sure that he won’t wake him, he sneaks out of bed and back to the communicator. He sends a call out to the kids. They immediately pick up.

“Grunkle Ford, is everything okay?” Dipper asks.

“What’s wrong with Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asks.

“I don’t know,” Ford admits.

“This calls for an emergency all-call,” Mabel says and slams her hand on the device. The communication device unfolds to reveal two additional screens.

One screen blinks on to reveal a sleepy Fiddleford and worried looking Tate. “This is the first time anyone’s used the emergency function, what’s wrong?”

The other screen turns off to reveal Soos in his pajamas with Melody just waking up in bed next to him. “Dudes! The communicator started freaking out, what happened?”

“Guys, this is an emergency,” Dipper says. The others listen intently to him. “Stan has amnesia again.”

They gasp.

“I’ll call Wendy,” Melody says, disappearing off the screen.

“Stanford, I thought Stan regained all his memories back in Gravity Falls,” Fiddleford says.

“He did,” Ford answers. “I’m sure he did.”

“You guys didn’t accidentally get hit by another memory gun, did you?” Soos asks.

“No, and I don’t understand how this could have happened. He’s been perfectly coherent this whole time. This is the first incident that’s even suggested that he’s had memory issues,” Ford says desperately.

“What about any injuries?” Tate asks.

“Injuries?” Ford echoes.

“Head trauma, full body blows, anything like that,” he elaborates.

Ford stands up, “I’ll be right back.”

He hurries back to the bedroom and quietly sneaks over to Stan. Luckily, Stan is sleeping on his back. Ford grabs a maglite and shines it against his back.

Stan’s back is still covered in healing bruises from the incident in the storm. They’re no longer as young as they used to be, healing takes longer for them now. Ford starts to examine Stan’s cranium. Almost immediately he sees a bruise.

Ford jerks back. Then he forces himself to take a closer look. The bruise looks to be healing at the same rate as the ones on his back. He must have received it the same night and didn’t tell him.

Ford’s hand is shaking when he turns his light off and goes back to the communicator.

He takes a seat, the others awaiting his answer. Wendy seems to have joined them and is sitting with Soos and Melody in front of the communicator.

“I’ve just confirmed that Stan did receive a head injury recently,” Ford says.

The others start to murmur amongst themselves.

“Think back, Stanford. Has this been the first sign that Stanley has been having memory problems? What about after the injury?” Fiddleford asks.

“Did he have any changes in his behavior?” Tate offers.

Ford shakes his head at the questions, really nothing had felt different. In fact after the accident Stan had become more like his old self-

Oh.

“Actually, yes. Yes he has,” Ford agrees. “He’s changed back to how he used to be when we were children.”

“You mean he’s a kid again?” Soos asks.

“No, no, he hasn’t lost any knowledge, but he certainly has changed,” Ford says.

“How long has he been like this, Stanford?” Tate asks.

“..Weeks,” Ford admits.

The others gasp.

“How long did it take for him to remember last time?” Melody asks.

“Only a few hours!” Mabel exclaims. “He remembered us in no time!”

“But wait, he remembers you Mister Pines?” Soos brings up.

“I- yes, he does,” Ford says. It’s true. Unlike the last time, Stan remembers him.

“Maybe,” Dipper starts, a serious look of contemplation on his face, “-maybe, Stan just needs exposure to all of us to start remembering?”

It’s not a terrible idea. After all, Ford was with Stan the whole time. Maybe he does need time and exposure to remember everything.

“We can show him around the Mystery Shack,” Soos says.

“Yeah! I can show my scrapbooks, that did the trick last time,” Mabel says, finally smiling for the first time for this whole conversation.

“I could probably find the doodad’s that Stan’s seen last summer,” Fiddleford offers.

“Sounds like a plan, people. Give me a heads up when I should be there,” Wendy says.

The others agree and start to leave when Dipper stops them.

“Wait. Just to make sure we don’t confuse Stan, let’s say we’re all friends with Mr.McGucket. That way it isn’t too weird that Grunkle Ford knows all of us, but Grunkle Stan doesn’t,” Dipper says.

“But,” Mabel isn’t smiling anymore, “Isn’t that kind of, you know…”

“I know, Mabel,” Dipper says with a sigh. “I just think it’s easier if Grunkle Stan doesn’t know that anything’s wrong. It’ll be easier.”

Mabel sighs too. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay. Grunkle Ford, let us know when we should all talk again,” Dipper says.

“I will, Dipper,” Ford answers.

Then, one by one, the screens go blank. The communicator folds in on itself and Ford is left alone in the dark.

He sits back in his chair.

He puts his hands over his face and slowly bends over himself. His head gently hits the table in front of him. He takes a shuddery breath and holds it in. He can’t wake up Stan, not now. He curls in and stays absolutely still and silent.

Ford hopes this will work. He doesn't know how he’ll face Dipper and Mabel otherwise. The look on their faces when Stan didn’t realize who they were, it was terrible.

Stan has to remember them.

Ford just hopes that he doesn’t have to give up what they have now after Stan remembers.

-000-

Stan and Ford go on an adventure.

They discover an island that shouldn’t exist in the middle of the ocean. And of course Ford gets swept up in the adventure. There are no anomalies like the ones in Gravity Falls, but the island itself is quite interesting-

And Ford gets swept up in the excitement with Stan right there by his side.

Ford forgets about the phone call. It was really a suggested time, he hadn’t finalized it with Dipper. The date of the call gets pushed back further and they get closer and closer to Halloween. They’re unable to go back to land, the last adventure threw them off their schedule, so they’ll just have a nice Halloween together.

-000-

“Happy Halloween, Sixer!”

Ford jumps and goes to grab his gun, but Stan stops him in time.

“Come on, Ford, it’s just me,” Stan says.

Recognizing Stan’s voice, Ford relaxes. He cracks open his eyes, but somehow it’s too bright. Strange, there shouldn’t be any light. He tries to open his eyes again and is greeted with Stan wearing the most obnoxious orange pumpkin sweaters he’s ever seen.

“I know we said we were going to wear costumes, or something ‘culturally relevant to the area,’ but since we didn’t make it to land, I thought we could at least be in the Halloween spirit,” Stan says. “I noticed you had one too. Come on, we can wear them together.”

Ford looks down at the sweater Stan picked out. It’s a perfectly serviceable orange, an earth tone, not the close to neon monstrosity that Stan is wearing.

“Breakfast is waiting, come on,” Stan says before heading out of the room.

When he turns around, there’s a jack o’ lantern on the back with familiar stitching.

Ford blinks and slowly rubs his face. He remembers now, the sweater had been a gift from Mabel. Ford doesn't know what to do with the information that Stan will still wear a handknit sweater from his grand niece despite it’s questionable color. Instead of continuing that thought, he gets dressed and ready for breakfast.

It’s chili for breakfast. Not bad for the supplies they have in the boat.

“I made your favorite,” Stan says in way of greeting.

Ford blinks and wonders if he heard Stan wrong. Chili is supposed to be Stan’s favorite.

“I figured since we have so many ingredients for it, chili must be your favorite. You can just tell me, you know,” Stan says before starting to eat.

Ford eats at a slower pace.

Their Halloween is rather relaxed, a good ending to the month. They end up watching movies on the sail and eating tons of candy. At the end of the night they clean up and fall asleep next to each other.

Ford’s last thought is to wonder if Stan will start remembering everything after Halloween.

-000-

Ford is the first to wake up in the morning.

He immediately tucks Stan in. Ford sighs. Now that he knows what he’s looking for he can see why this version of Stan sleeps so haphazardly. The man doesn’t remember his hardships or the terrible things he’s done to survive. He’s not childish, but he knows the world like he did as a child, filled with opportunity and adventure.

Is it so terrible for Ford to want Stan to stay like this, unburdened by their past?

However it’s after Halloween now. They’re in November, maybe when Stan wakes up he’ll remember.

Ford gets up and starts some hot water. Then he carefully pulls down their decorations, putting things back in their place, and carefully setting aside the home-made ones. They can save them for next year or maybe for Summerween.

He’s almost done taking everything down when Stan walks into the kitchen.

“Oh, let me grab some of those,” he says with a smile on his face.

Ford can immediately tell that Stan doesn’t remember. His smile was too carefree and not grumpy enough.

Although it is surprising how Stan doesn’t look up that they’re taking down the decorations.

“Too bad, October is over,” Ford says, feeling him out.

Stan chuckles. “It was fun while it lasted. But come on Ford, we’re living the dream: having adventures together on the Stan o’ War. Sure Halloween is great, but we’re having fun everyday. We don’t have to wait a whole year for Halloween to come around, we can look forward to the next adventure.”

Ford stares. Stan may never remember the kids if he never leaves this boat.

Stan notices the staring, “Oh yeah, this sweater?”

Ford looks down and sees another sweater that Mabel had knitted for Stan.

“I found it with the Halloween one. Stitchings a little messy, but it’s pretty comfy. I don’t know why I don’t wear clothes from that drawer more often,” Stan says as a he takes a mug out of the cabinet. It says ‘Grumpy Old Man’ on it. It had been a gag gift from Dipper, but it was Stan’s favorite mug. Or at least it used to be.

They continue with their day like this; Ford realizing how many items they have from their family. There’s a device from Fiddleford. Some fishing gear from Tate. Some furniture and nick knacks from Soos and Melody. A hat from Wendy.

And Stan doesn’t recognize who they’re from. He just instinctively knows that they’re his favorite, the best to use, but doesn’t remember where they came from.

For lunch, Stan serves him a pumpkin and vegetable soup made from the Halloween gourds. The soup is a recipe from the twins and the plates are stolen from the Mystery Shack.

Finally Ford decides that he can’t live like this, tip-toeing around Stan, wondering what he can bring up and what he can’t bring up. Ford can’t live with a Stan that��s forgotten the people he loves and made a family with.

“Hey, Stan? You know those kids we talked to a week back?” Ford asks.

“Yeah?”

“They were wondering if you had any more stories for them.”

-000-

The first call they arrange with the kids turns into a series of ‘coincidences’ that allow for everybody from their emergency call to be on the communicator. They go along with their storyline, saying that they’re friends of Fiddleford’s.

Stan is absolutely charming and sweet. He grins and laughs easily and does his best to entertain the callers.

They arrange call after call, even with some impromptu members from Gravity Falls pitching in to say hello.

Stan doesn’t remember any of them.

Ford sneaks away at night to have an emergency all-call with the group again.

“So that didn’t work,” Dipper says, scratching his head.

“I don’t understand! We did the scrapbooks, the Mystery Shack, Waddles, almost everything! He didn’t remember. You could even tell Stan was being polite when we expected him to know things, that’s not Grunkle Stan!” Mabel exclaims.

The others look worried.

“Isn’t this how Mr.Pines normally acts?” Melody asks. They all look at her. “I mean, I only met the man once, but from your stories this seems like him. A little inappropriate, but a pretty fun Grunkle.”

“Psh, the real Stan would never make a good first impression,” Wendy says.

The others murmur their agreement.

“But maybe it’s okay that Stan doesn’t get his memories back,” Wendy continues.

“What!” The twins say.

“Maybe that would be for the best,” Tate adds in. Fiddleford looks at his son bewildered.

“Now I’m not saying that Stan shouldn’t remember, or that we won’t try to help him remember, but this isn’t like with Dad,” Tate says, squeezing Fiddleford’s shoulder. “Or maybe it’s exactly like with Dad. Stan forgot everything about his past, especially what hurt him. But he might eventually remember the good parts.”

“Like I did,” Fiddleford ends.

Tate nods.

“There was a point where I forgot Tate,” Fiddleford elaborates, looking guilty.

“You remembered eventually, Dad.” Tate says.

“But, but, Stans not even with us. Dipper and I are in California, the rest of us are in Gravity Falls, and Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan are all the way across the world! Are we supposed to wait til next summer for him to remember?” Mabel asks.

No one answers.

Ford should be reassuring her. Saying that even if Stan doesn’t remember, that he still loves them all. It’s easy to see; from the way he loves all of their gifts, to the fact that he always smiles when they call.

At the same time, he thinks: what if Stan doesn’t want to go back to Gravity Falls?

“He’ll remember eventually, Mabel,” Dipper reassures.

“That’s right, Mabel. One lousy injury isn’t going to stop Stan,” Soos reassures. “This is the man that punched a pterodactyl!”

Waddles oinks next to her adding in his two cents.

Mabel pets him. “Yeah, Grunkle Stan won’t forget about us.”

“So you have to keep on calling him, Mabel,” Wendy says. “Stan would never want to miss your middle school adventures.”

“We’ll keep calling,” Dipper says and Mabel nods.

“So will we,” Fiddleford adds. “It’s late, you kids should get to bed.”

The ‘kids’ groan, but say their goodbyes. The screen from the Mystery Shack and the twins blink off. The one from the mansion stays on. Tate walks away, leaving the screen.

“Hey, Stanford, how are you holding up?” Fiddleford asks.

Ford shakes his head.

“What’s wrong, Ford?”

“That’s the conundrum, Fiddleford. Nothing's wrong for me,” Ford admits.

“How so?”

“Well- life’s great! I mean, you know the last time we conversed? You had asked me what I wanted to change? I got everything I wanted: Stan relies on me, he takes better care of himself and me, we talk about everything!”

“Even the portal?” Fiddleford asks.

It’s a sore spot between them. While Ford feels like he could talk to Fiddleford about everything, he knows they can’t talk about certain subjects.

“Even the portal,” Ford says.

Fiddleford stays silent and Ford waits for him to give him an answer to his problems. Their last conversation was eye opening. And Ford is hoping that Fiddleford can lay some of his guilt to rest.

“That’s great, Ford. I’m glad you found someone to talk to,” Fiddleford says. He sounds and look sincere.

“And?”

“And what, Stanford?”

“What about this situation?”

Fiddleford pauses, he looks to be in deep thought.

“Listen,” Fiddleford start with, “I think you may have to consider the possibility that Stan might not regain his memories.”

“What-“

“I know that I regained them and that Stan regained them, but you have to remember we’re outliers. I had a video of myself to confront my missing memories. But no one else remembers what they’ve lost,” Fiddleford explains.

It was true.

There had been some experiments, but to their knowledge no one could regain their memories after the memory gun had taken them away. On occasion, bringing up the old memories would bring- distress to the person.

“However, that doesn’t mean that Stan won’t regain them after time,” Fiddleford adds.

That was true as well. Stan was such an outlier in regards to what was normal. The first time around, Stan had been so patient and understanding despite being bombarded with information about from his old life. Then he had actually regained them all with no issues, until now.

“So keep that in mind when dealing with him,” Fiddleford says with an air of finality.

“You’re speaking in circles, Fiddleford. I have to treat Stan like he won’t regain his memories, but he might regain them anyway,” Ford says, parsing out the words.

“That’s right,” Fiddleford agrees.

Ford taps his chin.

“That’s a paradox,” Ford says.

“Sure sounds like one,” Fiddleford says.

“Fiddleford, you were the one to present me this paradox.”

“I suppose I put the paradox into words, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t exist beforehand.”

“Right,” Ford grumbles. Another eye-opener.

Fiddleford sighs. “Look Ford, just use that big brain of yours. This situation is bad and you have to be careful. Why, you don’t even know if another injury may cause more memory issues!”

“I- I hadn’t yet considered that possibility.”

What would happen if Stan regressed completely?

What would happen if he regressed when they were at sea? Or on an uninhabited island? What if Stan were alone?

“I’ll talk to you later, Stanford,” Fiddleford says.

Ford waves him off and the screen goes blank. The man had probably seen this coming. Ford had been so happy with his situation that he hadn’t even thought of the consequences.

He considers his options.

Stan would have to remember. Even if it meant giving this up, Ford couldn’t risk Stan getting worse. And he couldn’t bear seeing the kids’ face look so disappointed every single call.

But how could Ford make Stan remember?

He could always go into the Mindscape. That might be the best way to diagnose the problem and see what other issues may crop up.

But it was also exceptionally dangerous if the Mindscape was deteriorating. It was also a procedure that he wouldn’t want to attempt alone. Perhaps he would save that for last or whenever they would go back to Gravity Falls.

Ford considers other options both supernatural and not. In the end he would go with the tried and true method, talking things out.

While the others had shown off every memory inducing item they had, Ford had not. He had held back in the hopes that the others would be the ones to induce the memories. After all, the memories that Stan didn’t remember that they shared were-

They were memories that Ford didn’t want Stan to remember.

-000-

Ford doesn’t go to sleep that night and ends up sleeping through the day. When he wakes up, it’s completely dark out. However the room is warm and Ford has been undressed. He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He gets dressed and goes out to the kitchen where Stan is reading.

A werewolf looks out of the cover, distinctly lacking a shirt and his gaze smoldering.

Ah. This must have been a gift from Grenda and Candy. He had been told that everybody had sent a care package to them, but hadn’t realized that everybody had sent them something.

Stan looks up from his book when he realizes Ford is in the room. He closes the book, but doesn’t look ashamed. In fact, he looks a little tired. Had Stan been waiting for him?

“There’s more gourd stew, if you want some,” Stan says.

There’s just enough stew for one, with steam coming from the top.

“Thank you,” Ford says.

He dishes it up and sits across from Stan to eat it.

Stan picks up his book and continues to read. Ford watches him out of the corner of his eyes, but Stan looks rather engrossed.

When he finishes, he puts the dishes away.

He’s ready to tell Stan to go to sleep when Stan places a hand on his shoulder.

“Can you sit, Ford?”

Ford freezes and nods. He doesn’t think he can speak. He can’t lead this conversation, but he can answer any questions that Stan has.

They sit next to each other this time. Stan’s knee gently presses against his. It’s not reassuring, he can it trapping him there and the expectations welling up. Stan looks down at the table with a frown and Ford wonders what he knows.

Maybe he found the journals? They were right there on the shelf for anyone to read. The earlier journals weren’t very flattering, nor did they paint a very happy life with his twin. Hell, they were next to the romance novels.

“I know why you didn’t bring it up,” Stan says.

Ford tenses.

“I mean with me having amnesia-“

“You remember?” Ford blurts out. Since when?

“Well, no.”

Ford deflates.

“I- the me that remembers everything left me a note in case this happened,” Stan explains flippantly. Ford perks up and wonders what Stan wrote. “I only found it recently, and he didn’t leave me much. Just said that I should trust my family,” Stan says with a shrug.

Ford sits back. He had never considered that Stan would leave himself a failsafe in case of amnesia.

“You have questions for me then,” Ford says. The man must have questions. Stan finally knows that he’s missing information.

Stan starts with: “I know that I don’t remember all those people I’ve been telling stories too.”

Ford nods and lets out a mental sigh. At least he didn’t have to explain that point.

“I know that I’ve forgotten about this Gravity Falls place.”

Ford nods again. Stan had forgotten a huge swath about his past.

“And I know that I’ve forgotten somethings about us,” Stan concludes. He scratches his head.

“That’s right,” Ford confirms.

Stan takes a deep breath and lets out a cough.

“Tell me if I’ve gotten this part wrong.”

Ford waits for the accusations and the questions.

Instead, he feels Stan gently grab a hold of his hand. He stares at the hand, puzzled and looks back up at Stan who isn’t looking at him. He looks like he’s desperately trying to be casual. The knee that was pressed against him nudges him gently, but Ford doesn’t pull away.

Stan finally looks at Ford. His face for once is serious and without his usual grin. The intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming, but Ford can’t look away.

Without breaking eye contact, Stan brings Ford hand up and brushes a kiss against his knuckles.

Ford’s mouth falls open.

“Did I get this wrong, Sixer?” Stan murmurs against his skin.

Ford licks his lips, but can’t speak.

Ford shakes his head, then stops, realizing the message that he’s sending.

Stan’s eyes light up.

Then he realizes exactly what answer he wants to be right.

“You’re not wrong,” Ford chokes out.

Stan grins at him and squeezes his hand. He chuckles, looking away.

“We’re okay?” Stan asks.

“Yes, Stan.” The lies fall easily from Ford’s lips.  “Everything’s okay now.”

-000-

Nothing changes, at least, not in the way that Ford expected things to change.

They have the same routine do the same things, but every gesture has meaning now. Every look is charged. And there’s a tension- no, tension isn’t the right word, there’s frisson between them. It makes Ford’s heart pound and his hands a little sweaty to be honest.

They have a few more adventures together and those are exciting.

But now Ford is aware of everytime they hold hands or touch, even if they’re in life or death situations.

And now he can see the ways that Stan is taking care of him after their adventures are over.

There are these tiny little things he catches now. He thinks about them, mulls over them, replays them in his mind, and turns them over and over in his mind. His thoughts are filled with these nuances that he’s never caught before.

Ford would keep muddling through life like this if it wasn’t for a call from the others.

“Hey everybody!”

“Grunkle Stan!”

“Mr.Pines!”

“Stanley?”

“I’m sorry,” Stan says and all their faces fall. “I don’t remember, but I figured out I have amnesia.”

“Well, at least you know now,” Dipper says.

And the others mumbled their agreement.

“Thanks, everyone. Now do you guys want to hear about our latest adventure?”

“That sounds delightful, Stan” Fiddleford says while fixing a look at Ford.

Well, perhaps Ford would have continued to muddle his way through this situation, not changing a thing, but Fiddleford was giving him a look. It promised disappointment from Fiddleford and a thorough talk that would break down any of Ford’s logical arguments.

He would have to try talking to Stan again.

-000-

After a few more adventures, Ford finally puts everything in motion. Stan is taking a shower and will be occupied long enough for Ford to set up everything. He gets his journals and some props and waits for Stan to finish.

Stan comes out, still drying his hair. Ford is just about to help him, most heat escapes from the head after all- but he manages to hold himself back in time.

“What’s all this?” Stan asks, rummaging around the fridge.

“Stan, we need to talk,” Ford says.

He immediately winces after he says this.

“Sure, what’s up?” Stan makes some coffee for himself, while humming, then comes over to the table.

“I need to tell you something, Stan, something you’ve forgotten,” Ford starts, but is interrupted by some cookies shoved under his nose.

“Your favorite,” Stan offers.

They are his favorite, so Ford instinctively takes one, “Thank you, now as I was saying, there are some things I feel that I should tell you.”

“Sure, just let me fix up some coffee for you,” and Stan goes to freshen up his coffee, just the way Ford likes it.

Stan knows him so well- Ford shook his head. He needed to talk to Stan.

He takes a sip of his coffee, which is perfect, so Ford drains half the mug in one go. The gesture seems to reassure Stan, who finally takes a seat. The man looks at him, a bit disinterested, probably expecting a nerd rant, but totally trusting him.

Holding a journal up, Ford asked: “Do you remember these, Stan?”

Stan looks at it curious and Ford offers him the book. Stan flips through the pages, but shakes his head.

“Not really. I mean it’s one of your diaries-“

“Journals.”

“-One of your journals. You write about our adventures in them,” Stan says without guile.

“Then what about this?” Ford held up a picture of the perpetual motion machine. It’s a perfect rendition. Even now he could remember every single screw and plate.

Stan shrugged. “Am I supposed to?”

“How about these?” Ford gives him a bag of toffee peanuts.

Stan’s face lights up. “Oh hey! You were holding out on me, Ford. I didn’t think we had any more candy left from Halloween.”

“No, that’s not- here,” Ford hands him the bag and Stan digs in. Ford looks over at the rest of his things and Stan lets him, electing to pay attention to his snack instead. He was hoping that Stan would just remember, that he wouldn’t have to say anything specific.

But here Stan was, gobbling toffee peanuts and flipping through Journal 1 like it was nothing. His brother chuckles at one of the entries.

Ford drinks his coffee trying to regroup his thoughts.

Stan flips to the diagram of the portal.

He frowns at the picture and stares.

Ford swallows. It wasn’t the first thing he would’ve liked to discuss with Stan, but if it was the first thing that he remembered then…

Ford flipped Journals 2 and 3 to the portal diagram. He gently grabs the first journal and sets them up.

Stan snaps his fingers and points at the diagram. “Hey…”

The bag of toffee peanuts, now empty, slips out of his hand to rest next to the diagram of Ford’s former science project.

Stan’s wide eyed, looking between the picture of the portal and the science project.

While Stan is staring, Ford finishes a sketch. “What about this?” Ford softly asks.

It’s a picture of Bill Cipher.

Stan sits back in his seat. Then his head lolls back and his eyes close, while his mouth falls open. Ford manages to catch him before he falls out of his seat.

“Stan!”

Stan does not answer. Ford shakes him gently, which does nothing. Carefully, Ford slings him over a shoulder and brings him to bed. Once he’s laid out, Ford checks his eyes and his pulse. His hands are shaking so badly, he doesn’t succeed the first few times.

Ford sits next to Stan’s head which tilts towards him. He runs a hand through his hair which is still a little damp. Ford grabs the sheet to dry Stan’s hair.

It’s the least he can do.

The first and last time he had seen Stan with this expression had been after Stan’s memory was erased. The blank expression had been burned into Ford’s memory. It was exactly the same as last time.

Ford waited, gently running a hand through Stan’s hair, hoping that he would wake up soon.

Like last time, he would have to wait to see what would happen.

-000-

Ford wakes up when someone lets out a loud snort next to him.

He sits up. It’s morning, he must have fallen asleep watching Stan.

Stan, who looks to be waking up.

Ford waits with bated breath.

Stan blinks awake, yawning loudly in Ford’s face. He smacks his mouth a few times and scratches himself.

Stan blinks, realizing Ford is staring at him. He looks away, chucking awkwardly, his cheeks a bit flushed.

“Hey, Sixer, watching someone sleep is a little, you know, don’t you think?”

Stan’s eyes are sparkling and he’s saying this with good humor. He doesn’t remember. Before Ford can formulate a reply Stan sits up and gets out of bed.

“I’m going to hit the john,” Stan says.

With Stan in the bathroom, Ford scrambles to clean everything off the table. Stan doesn’t notice a thing and Ford is going to keep it that way. He tried to help Stan remember and the result was disastrous. Better to let him remember naturally, or wait until they could get to a proper environment to help him remember.

In the meantime, it wasn’t a hardship to be with this Stan.

-000-

The days and nights start to grow longer and colder. Stan and Ford bundle up, but more often than not, find themselves pressed up against each other to stay warm. They often sit next to each other, arm to arm, with their thighs pressed together.

Stan seems unaffected by the change, happy even. He’s unlike Ford who is a nervous wreck from the additional contact. When they’re that close, Ford sweats and gets a little jittery.

They dock one day to resupply when Stan wants to go the local pub.

“Just to get a drink and some information,” Stan reassures.

Ford looks doubtful, but this isn’t the normal version of Stan. Maybe this one wouldn’t get into a fist fight. Maybe they could have a drink and some hot food that wasn’t originally canned. A meal that they didn’t have to make would be wonderful.

-000-

“Come and get some!”

Stan laughs maniacally as he clocks some guy with a chair.

The locals don’t understand Stan and don’t care. They throw themselves at him while Ford tries to open the safe behind the bar.

Ford grumbles. One of the only times they go to a bar together and they find out that the pub was housing some terrible and cursed artifact. It was only right that they take it to protect the town. But here they were, in a bar fight. Maybe it was an anomaly or the artifact that was making the locals attack them.

Ford hears Stan laugh again after a particularly nasty sounding ‘boom.’

Perhaps Ford should have considered that this Stan was still someone who would steal from a Harvest deity. Starting a bar fight was small potatoes in comparison.

There’s another crash that makes Ford wince and throws off his ability to crack the safe.

Screw it. He uses his gun to blast the lock and the door swings open. The statue inside looks unfortunately familiar. Ford stuffs it into his pocket even though it's pointy triangle edges are digging into his side.

With his mission accomplished, Ford jumps over the bar to help Stan.

There are three men advancing on his twin, but Stan keeps them at bay with what looks to be one of the pub decorations; a rusty anchor.

The men are wary and Ford is about to step in, when one the men grabs a bottle and throws it at Stan. Stan dodges the first, but gets clocked by a second. It hits him in the head and he crumples.

Ford finds himself smashing a fist into the one that hit his brother. Then he draws his gun, making sure to shield Stan, and snarls at the others. They back away and try to talk, but Ford isn’t having any of it.

Just when he’s about to shoot them and be done with it, a hand on his leg stops him.

“Let’s go,” Stan rasps.

Ford hesitates, but nods. He helps Stan up and they leave the pub, immediately fleeing to their boat. Stan is steady enough to work the sail, so they take off.

When they’re out on rough waters, Stan stumbles.

Ford drops to his knees trying to catch him.

Stan shakes his head. “Just need to regain my sea legs,” he says, but allows Ford to drag him inside.

Ford wonders if maybe Stan should sit, but decides otherwise. In Stan’s condition, it would be easier to take care of him in bed.

Ford lays him out and Stan groans. Ford starts undressing him so he’s comfortable. Stan tries to fight him off, but it’s easy enough to bat Stan’s hands away.

“I got you, Stan,” he says.

Finally he starts diagnosing: checking Stan’s pulse (erratic but not too fast), his pupils (dilated, but of matching size), and finally his head wound.

Stan flinches away from him and Ford gently shushes him. “I’ll be careful,” he says softly.

It looks like there’s a cut- but it’s partially healed. Ford doesn’t remember the bottle shattering-

Then Ford remembers. The head wound is in the same place as Stan’s last injury.

Ford bites his lip.

It’s his worst nightmare come to pass. He thinks about calling the others, but decides not to. They can’t help him.

He doesn’t know what will happen but he’ll be here right next to Stan’s side.

Ford spends the rest of the night watching and gently waking Stan up every few hours. Stan seems to be sleeping evenly and without issue so Ford goes up to make sure they’re sailing in the right direction.

When he comes back, Stan is completely still.

Fearing the worst, Ford violently shakes him and Stan comes awake swinging. Ford dodges the blows.

“Stan! Stan it’s me!” Ford catches Stan’s fists and holds them.

Stan’s wild eyes finally focus on him.

He scowls, pulling away.

Ford lets him go. He recognizes the expression.

“What happened?” Stan asks, mouth in a deep frown.

“You don’t remember the bar fight?” Ford asks.

Stan rubs his head, “Did we win?” He asks instead of answering.

“Yes, yes we did,” Ford says.

Stan chuckles, “Then I think I remember putting down a couple of guys. But you didn’t have to babysit me, Ford. I’m fine.”

“Yes, I suppose you’ve recovered now.”

-000-

Stan returns back to the way he was before the whole amnesia event occurred. Stan immediately recognizes the fact that he’s forgotten some time once he looks at the date. He has vague recollection of time passing, but Stan can’t remember any details.

Ford gives him a brief summary of the changes, mostly that he forgot about the kids, but that he remembered Ford. He had only realized Stan was having memory issues once he couldn’t remember the kids. Ford also talks about their gourd adventure because he’s sure the kids will bring it up.

Other than that, Ford keeps his mouth shut.

There’s no need to bring up anything that Stan can’t remember. And there’s no reason to feel sad for a version of Stan that wasn’t supposed to exist.

Ford is in fact grateful that Stan remembers the kids now.

Once Stan had realized what he had forgotten, he immediately called the kids. They looked so happy, and Ford realizes how hard it must have been for Dipper and Mabel to be forgotten by their Grunkle.

He doesn’t begrudge this version of Stan, because with this version their family is whole and healthy.

But now Ford has had a taste of something wonderful that he hadn’t known was possible. And he wants the best of both worlds. He wants a Stan that cares deeply about his family, and who thinks that Ford hung the moon.

When he was young he didn’t appreciate the Stan who thought that Ford hung the moon. Ever since Gravity Falls he could appreciate the Stan who deeply cared for his family. Then getting the Stan who thought highly of him, but losing the other Stan, well, if only it was possible have it both ways.

-000-

Ford often finds himself staring at Stan.

The man isn’t any less handsome than before, still has those intense eyes and wonderful smile. His hands are big and strong as he handles the sail and Ford could feel his heart skip a beat when he hears him laugh.

Ford sighs.

He finally figures out he’s in love with Stan and then loses any possibility of being with him.

Typical.

How did he not realize his feelings?

There wasn’t anything he could do about it now. Well, there was, but Ford was tired. He had such highs and a lows with his brother over these months that he didn’t want to rock the boat anymore.

He would have to be satisfied with the way things were.

Except now he was constantly aware of what was going on in his heart.

As a result, Ford stares at Stan. And he notices that Stan no longer smiles less now That on occasion he frowns and looks sad for no reason. And that he looks tired.

Ford wishes he could fix that.

He forces himself to look away.

Already more than a week has passed since Stan’s recovery, Ford should be over it.

In fact, he should try and follow Fiddlefords advice, try to repair their relationship. He knows what it looks like, but he doesn’t want to take the first step.

He’s staring off into the water, considering his options when Stan coughs behind him.

“Hey,” he says taking a place next to Ford.

Stan stares out at the water while Ford stares at him.

“Sooo…” Stan taps his fingers and starts fiddling with his pockets. “Trick or treat?”

“Pardon me?” Ford asks.

Stan coughs into his hand. “I missed Halloween. Now Trick or Treat, Sixer?”

“Ah, treat then,” Ford answers. Might as well go with the expected answer.

Stan holds something out and Ford opens his hands to receive it. Into his hands drops a small candy wrapped in wax paper. Stan gestures for him to go ahead, so Ford unwraps it and pops it into his mouth.

It’s brown sugar, Ford’s favorite. And it’s homemade like one of the candies that Stan made in October.

“Since there was a treat, I guess it makes sense that there was a trick too. I left some clues for myself so I’ve finally started to remember,” Stan explains.

Oh boy.

Ford wonders what exactly Stan remembers. He’s not sure he can come up with logical explanations for everything that has happened.

“I- I was never tricking you, Stan,” Ford tries to explain.

“Yeah. But we weren’t truthful with each other, were we?” Stan says.

We?

“What about my treat, Ford?”

Stan finally looks into his eyes and he gets pulled in by their intensity.

Stan takes a step closer.

This close now, Ford can feel the heat coming off of his brother.

Stan’s eyes glances down at his mouth.

“You gonna share that?” He asks, a quirk to his lips.

Ford doesn’t reply, just leans in. They meet in the middle for a kiss, sharing the taste of brown sugar candy.

Maybe Stan pulls back first, Ford doesn’t know, but when they do Ford is greeted with a familiar expression. Stan’s face has softened and is looking at him with warmth again. Ford slowly smiles feeling a weight come off his shoulders.

“Happy Halloween, Sixer,” Stan says.

“It’s November, Stanley,” Ford can’t help but say.

Stan rolls his eyes but grabs his hand and laces their fingers together. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Instead of arguing, Ford leans in for another kiss. He’ll have to keep kissing Stan until they get the moment just right.

[redheadedramblings]

Forbidden Love (oneshot)

Title: Forbidden Love (oneshot) Paring: Bucky x Asgardian Reader Request: (hi there! i wanted to send a request so the reader is Loki and Thor's sister and they are (especially Loki) protective over her so they are living with the team in Tower reader is in love with Bucky and Bucky feels the same they are secretly kind of together. One day Thor learns about it and gets angry but reader talks him not to tell Loki because he will be so angry and decides to tell him herself and in the end they accept it and everything goes well even if Loki is not compeletly sure about it. I'm sorry if its too complicated or terrible but i just love your writing much 💙) Requested by: @buckylaufeysonx Word count: 4008 warnings: none A/N : So this is my first request I have ever done! I hope its ok! Please let me know if you like it! Sorry its long! I went a little overboard with this one! Thank you @buckylaufeysonx for the request!

masterlist

The kitchen was your favorite place to be in the mornings. The warm sun shined though the windows and on your face as you sat at the table with a warm drink in your hand and a book in the other. The heat was engulfing your core and everything was so peaceful. You loved moments like these, it would remind you of your home. On Asgard you would sit on the balcony that led off your room and sit there for hours reading a book in the sun. Now that Asgard is gone, and your home destroyed, this is the closest thing you had. You were the youngest of Odin’s children, your two other brothers being Loki and Thor. You looked a lot like your mother, your hair was copper and always drawn up in curls. When you lost your parents your brothers became very protective of you, especially Loki. The two of you were very close to your mother and you reminded him so much of her that even though she was gone he felt like she lived though you. Sometimes his overprotectiveness would become a little overbearing at times, but you knew he had good intentions, he just couldn't lose you too. When Asgard fell you were took refuge on Earth where you were reunited with your brothers. Thor requested that you stay with the team at the tower since you had no where else to go. You have been living there for about a year now. You weren't much of a fighter, you were good at it but conquering lands and going on quests never interested you like it did Thor. You would rather stay home and lay around the house reading and learning. Adjusting to the human world was difficult at first, the culture shock was the worst part for you. You lived in the tower with most of the team, they were all nice to you and made sure you were comfortable. But you constantly felt alone, your brothers were there with you to keep you company but you often found yourself feeling lonely. You never really went on missions or assignments with the team, you would always stay back at base. When you did accompany them your brothers would never let you out of their sight or they would make you stay on the quinjet and wait for them to come back. You turned the page in your book and lifted up your hand and your mug gently dropped into your palm. Hearing footsteps walking down the hall your eyes stay glued to your book as you hear them enter. “Morning Dollface” You smiled and looked up to see Bucky leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed smiling at you. “Morning Sarge” you grinned. He walked over to you and pulled out a chair that was next to yours. “Whatcha reading?” he inquired. You closed the book and showed the cover to him. “I am reading the book you bought for me. I am almost done with it.” “The one I bought you a couple days ago?” “Yup” “Wow. You got though that fast.” “Well its a good read! I like it a lot and I couldn't put it down.” “I am glad you like it, its one of my favorites.” Bucky was always so kind to you. The first day you met him was the day you moved into the tower. You got lost on one of the floors trying to find your room when Bucky found you while he was walking back from the gym. He helped you find you way and the two of you instantly became friends. From then on the two of you were inseparable. You loved learning about him, he loved to tell you about his times growing up and the things he did back in the forties. He would talk and talk and you would listen to every word he said. In return you would tell him about Asgard, the magical realm that was once your home. You would show him some magic tricks and he would be absolutely amazed of what you could do. You don't know when in happened but some time along the way you fell for him. There was no one quite like Bucky Barnes and you had never met a man like him. He treated you differently and he loved you and acted like you were the most precious thing in the whole world. You smile at him and he looks at your empty mug in your hands. “Need a refill?” he asks pointing to your hand. “If you don't mind” You open your palm and the cup floated out of your hands and into his. He raised and eyebrow you and you just playfully shrugged it off. Walking to the kitchen he grabbed the coffee pot and poured the hot liquid into your cup and walked back in. “Here you are” he says handing it back to you. “Thank you kindly” you sip your drink. “So, I had a thought today.” “And what was your thought?” “I was thinking that you and I should go somewhere for dinner tonight? How does that sound?” he asks as his cheeks begin to turn and bright pink. You looked into his steel eyes and pretended to think for a moment. “I think, that is a wonderful thought. I would love to go to dinner with you.” you finally responded. “Great. I will swing over here and pick you up at seven?” “Sounds good!” you replied. He was about to open his mouth to speak again when you put your finger to your lips silencing him. “My brothers are here” you whispered. You both turned your heads to the door and in walked Thor and Loki. They were laughing at something stupid no doubt. “Y/N! You will never believe…..” Thor began but stopped when he saw Bucky standing next to you. “What are you doing in here?” Loki said sternly. You looked at your brothers and then back up at Bucky. Not waiting another fight to break out again you quickly intervened. “I will see you around Buck” you casually said giving Bucky a queue to leave. “Right” he breathed out and walked out of the room avoiding your brothers as he left. Thor and Loki stared him down until they could no longer hear his heavy footsteps. You just rolled your eyes and sighed. To say your brothers didn't like Bucky was an understatement. They really didn't like him and they didn't want you around him. Your brothers have always been protective of you since birth, you were the youngest and both of them have lost everything and you are all they had left. They didn't like him, they didn't trust him and sure as hell didn't want you around him. Although Bucky was Steve’s friend when they learned what Bucky used to be, and who he used to work for they made sure you kept away from him. You always had to make sure when you interacted with Bucky neither Thor or Loki were present. You didn't want another incident to occur like what happened last month. The boys had already made it very clear that you were not to be near Bucky or interact with him. One day you and Barnes were in the living room sitting on the couch laughing about a commercial you just saw on the television. Thor and Loki found you two and became livid when they realized that the two of you were alone in the same room. A fight ensued and you tried to stop it but there was no chance you could take on your brothers. Barnes didn't put up a fight for your sake, and you watched as he got the shit beaten out of him by two gods. Needless to say that Bucky couldn't move very well the next couple of days and you quickly learned your lesson. Loki looked at you and his glare of death quickly changed in a cheeky smiles as he walked over to you placing his hand on your head. “So how did my darling princess sleep last night, hm?” he inquired bending down kissing the top of your head. “Can you not be so hard on him?” you carefully asked setting your book down on the table. “The solider needs to know his place. You know how I feel about him being around you” “Loki, you promised me you would cause any more problems” “Problems? I am not causing any problems. I am simply looking out for my little sister. Isn't that right Thor?” You look behind Loki at your brother standing over a counter in the kitchen half expecting Thor to say something snappy but instead he just picks up a fruit from on the counter and began chomping away. Loki just looked at you and hummed while you rolled your eyes at him.

*** That night was perfect Bucky took you to a lovely little family owned restaurant that wasn't far from the tower. The two of you walked there holding hands for the first time. After dinner you took a stroll in the park and sat on a park bench and watched as the sun set behind the buildings. Walking back he held you near him with one arm around you holding you close to his body. It was the perfect night. The two of you crept back into the tower avoiding the normal hang out spots where your brothers would usually dwell. He escorted you back to your room and when you reached your door the two of you stopped and faced each other. “Thank you for taking me out tonight, I had a great time Buck. We should go out more often” you looked up at him. He looked down in embarrassment and took your hands with his. His metal hand felt cool to the touch and contrasted nicely with his flesh one. “Y/N” he shyly said. “Hm?” you looked into his eyes and they suddenly met yours. He looked you over and didn't say another word, instead he just leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He pulled back for a second and you felt his body heat on your flesh. You gently grabbed his face with your hands and returned the kiss this time lingering a bit longer. When you finally pulled away from his your lips felt hot and you felt all the blood running to your cheeks. He let go of you and you leaned your back against the door. “See ya later Barnes” you bit your lip as he stepped back his hand still in yours. “Yea, see you later” he winked at you. He took a couple steps back and your hand fell from your grasp and you watched as he walked down the hallway. You stood there for a moment and rubbed your finger over your lips still able to feel his scruff on your skin. “So the Asgardian princess has fallen in love with the Winter Solider, is that it?” you hear a booming voice behind you. You gasp and whip around to see Thor standing at the end of the hallway staring at you. “Thor” you shiver as he walks up to you. “How long has this been going on for?” he sternly asks. “Thor…please” “How long?” his voice becomes deeper. “A while.” you whisper and look down at your feet. You grab the fabric of your dress and begin to fiddle with it. Thor growls and begins to walk down the hall. “No, Thor!” you run after him. “Where are you going?” you hesitantly ask. “I am going to go find Loki.” “No! Please Thor don't tell him! He will kill him! Pease Thor don't tell him! I will tell him myself, just please don’t do this!” You step in front of him making him stop in his tracks. “Please.” you voice cracks. “Not yet” He is silent for a second. You could tell he was thinking it over in his head. “Fine” he says sternly. “But you are going to tell him the first chance you get” his voice goes a bit softer but you could tell he was still upset. He doesn’t say another word to you and just walks away.

***

“So what are we dealing with here?” Tony asks Steve as you peer around the conference room. The Avengers had called an emergency meeting in the middle of the night and you were called in to join. “About forty five minutes ago a small village right outside of Moscow was attacked. We don't know who they are but from what we have heard they are heavily armed.” Steve began. “They wiped out a small town leaving no survivors” “Hydra?” Bucky carefully spoke up from across the room. “We aren’t sure. But we need to act fast or a lot more of innocent people are going to get killed. We are leaving shortly, everyone suit up.” You peer over at Bucky and he looks at you for a split second and then quickly exists the room. Steve walks over to you while you stand next to your brothers. “Y/N, I want you to come on this mission with us. I think it will be a good experience for you knowing whats its like out there in the field.” “No.” Thor harshly said. “She isn't coming with us.” “Thor…” You turned to face your older brother. “…I will stay close I promise. Just let me help on this one alright?” you pleaded. “Y/N, if we let you go you have to do everything we say is that clear?” Loki speaks up. “Yes, I understand” you nodded “Alright, meet you guys down at the flight deck in a few minutes.” Steve informs all of you as he walks away.

***

The ride in the quinjet was the most awkward one you have ever sat in. This was the first mission you went on since your brothers got in a fight with Bucky. You were nestled in between your brothers as the team discussed the mission details around you. Bucky sat on the opposite side of the jet occasionally stealing a glance up at you which he was met with two gods staring him down. When the jet landed Steve gave the orders and the team sprang into action. You watched as Bucky looked back at you before leaving and you gave him a nod before he disappeared into the forest. Your brothers began to walk down the platform of the quinjet and you began to follow when Loki abruptly turned around putting his hand up stopping you in your tracks. “You are staying here.” he says pointing to the ground. “What?” you said in disbelief. “But Steve said…” “I know what Captain Freedom said, but you are staying here and thats final.” You look over to Thor but he just hums out in agreement. “Stay here until we get back. We shouldn’t be too long” Thor says gripping his hammer tightly. You sigh and watch your brothers leave. Alone again. Hours passed and the only think you could hear where the sounds of echoing gun shots in the distance. You sat there on a bench in the cabin of the ship listening to the mumbles of the Avengers over the com system. Bucky never talked unless he absolutely had to, but when you hear his voice your ears always perked up. Laying on the bench you played with your hair looping your fingers though one of your curls when you suddenly heard some twigs snapping outside the ship. You slowly sat up and looked down the open hatch of the jet. Waiting for a moment you listened for the sound again when this time you heard a loaded snapping sound and some footsteps following it. You picked up the communication device on your belt and held it up. “Hey guys, are any of you back at the quinjet yet?” you asked. “No. Negative Y/N. We are all about a mile away from your position.” Steve answers first. “Y/N, is something wrong?” you hear Bucky’s voice come though. “Something no right. I’m not alone. There is someone here” you take a few steps back. The air suddenly begins to feel cold and you feel goosebumps up your arms. You begin to hear a wave of different voices coming though, your brothers tell you to stay put and wait for them. Loki voice sounds nervous and out of breath. You just look out into the darkness and place your hand on your sword. “I’m on my way Y/N just hang tight alright?” you hear Bucky say. Before you can respond something leaps out of the dark and tackles you to the ground. You scream and the com falls out of your hand and is crushed when a boot breaks it. You try to get up but a hand grabs you from behind and throws you to the side. You roll down the platform and land on the cold dirt of forest. Jumping up you look around and see that you are surrounded by men in masks, all in tactical gear, aiming their guns at you. You reached down at your belt and pulled out your small sword and sprung at them. You moved with grace as you cut all of them down one by one. Although they out numbered you, they were no match for an Asgardian like yourself. You were trained by your brothers growing up. They trained you in the combat of war and you could definitely hold your own when a challenge arose. Moving from one assailant to another your speed and agility was unmatched and before long they all lay on the first floor grunting in pain. You never liked to kill anyone, only if it were absolutely necessary you would just make sure that they hurt really bad after you were done with them. Walking over the bodied of the men you pointed your sword at the last one standing there with his rifle pointed at you. You clicked your tongue and straightened you posture and held up your blood covered sword. “Kneel and I will show you mercy” You spoke firmly to him. But before you would get any more words in you were suddenly blasted back by a sudden force and slammed into a tree. Laying on the floor the man walked up to you and lifted you up by the hair, looking up at him you smirked and you disappeared in his fingers. He turned around and you walked out from behind a tree unscathed. “You fell for a mere illusion my friend, you didn't think I saw your friend with that blaster sitting behind the tree?” you laughed tossing the body to the side. You smiled quickly faded when you began to hear him laugh under his mask. It wasn't an ordinary laugh, it was wet and frightening sending fear into you. You stomach suddenly turned and you looked around to see bodies of the men begin to light up a beep. Bombs. The beeping began to get faster and louder and the mans laughing became deeper. Hearing your name being called you spun your head around to see Bucky running toward you. He grabbed you and jumped and you both landed on the ground in a heap while bombs exploded behind you. You rolled on the ground, Bucky’s legs entangled with yours. “Are you alright?” You hear him yell as you slowly sit up. “I’m alright” you wince feeling a cut on your cheek. He begins to help you up when suddenly he screams out in pain and bullets begin to fly at the two of you. He pulls to close to him and shields you from them and you squeeze your eyes shut. All of the sudden the world seems to stand still. When you open your eyes you are on the ground and Loki is holding you in his arms. Incoherent voices ring through your ears and you see Bucky laying motionless on the ground in front of you. Thor is kneeling over him checking with Steve at his side. Loki turns your face to him and your eyes burn from the flames. “Help him!” you hear yourself scream. “Please!” You grab your brother by the collar and hold on for dear life. Loki looks at you, fear written all over his face. “You need to help him!” You try to squirm out of his grasp but your whole body aches and you whimper in pain. Loki hooks his arms around you and hot tears run down your face as you see the rest of the team through your blurry eyes.

***

“Can I see him now?” “Yes, he should be conscious” Dr. Cho smiles. Pushing open the door of the hospital room you walk in and see Bucky laying in a bed. He has his chest wrapped up and some IVs in his arms. His skin looks a bit off colored and he has a lovely brown bruise on the side of his forehead. You trot over to the side of the bed and pull up the stool and sit yourself down. Reaching over to his hand you take hold of it and loop your fingers though his. “Hn, I was wondering when you would show up.” Bucky purred. “Sorry I kept you waiting.” you replied squeezing his hand a bit tighter. He opened his eyes and looked at you, tracing every inch of your face. “How are you feeling?” you asked the obvious. “Well, not as bad as you think. I was wearing a vest but a couple still managed to nick me… How are you?” he asked quickly referring back to you. He was more concerned about your heath than his own. “I’m alright. I was just worried sick about you.” You smiled hiding the fact that just a few hours earlier you were crying in your room while Bucky was in surgery. “You don't have to worry anymore. I’m alright.” Bucky’s eyes darted from yours and he looked away from you and his eyes widen and you heard his breath hitch. You turn and look at the door to see Loki standing there with his arms crossed watching the two of you. A awkward since fell over the room and Bucky propped himself up in the bed. “Hey…Listen…” Bucky began hesitantly. “I just want to thank you for saving my sisters life.” Loki interrupted him. Your eyebrows shot up and you were taken by surprise by your brothers sudden tone. “I am going to be frank with you Barnes, I do not particularly like you, nor have I ever liked you” “Loki” You scolded. He just held his hand up, silencing you. “Be that as it may, I do feel as though we got off on the wrong foot. Since you saved Y/N, I am willing to try and start over with you, and possibly become friends.” Bucky nodded his head at him in agreement and gave him a genuine smile. “But if you ever hurt her or break her heart, just know that I won’t be far away and I will rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands.” Loki smugly added. Bucky’s smiles faded and he gulped and you just bursted out laughing. “Y/N, I will see you later. Good day Mr. Barnes” You looked at your brother and smiled at him and he shot you a wink. He then put his hands behind his back and slowly walked out of the room leaving the two of you alone. “Wow, no pressure there, hu?” Bucky laughed. “Of course not!” you giggled. You just moved in closer to him and wrapped you arms around his neck. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to your and closed his eyes. “I love you princess” he whispered to you. “I love you too, solider"

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@buckylaufeysonx