thesnakelord - Tumblr blog

thesnakelord · 1 day ago

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part twoooo lets go. this one is. really long! more than double the last one. sorry 'bout that! next one should be shorter

i need a name for this au btw. i am open to suggestions

part 1 / part 2(you are here!)

warnings for: a bit of a panic attack at the end and also just general angstiness at parts. not all of it but. hoooo boy fellas

Ford decided to call him (he’d found out the creature was in fact male) Remus, after the founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus. Ford was fond of those sorts of old stories - he studied cryptids and stuff of folk tales, after all. Ancient myths weren’t too far off.

(He used to sit up at night in bed, sharing his pillow, sharing the same warmth and breath, whispering recollections of the stories he’d read to cover up the fighting downstairs. And Stanley would whisper back things like “Why’d he do that?” and “He shoulda done, I woulda done-” and Ford would shush him between the lines, whispering back, “It’s a metaphor, it’s emblem-attic of the society it's from,” and “That’s just how the story goes.” Stanley never liked those answers, but he’d quiet to listen nonetheless.)

The connection between man and creature seemed apt for a name. It was that or ‘Mowgli’, and that felt a bit too childish. ‘Remus’ fit the creature anyways, and rolled off the tongue much better than ��Romulus’ did.

Right now, Ford was trying to coax Remus into the bathtub. The faucet of the tub rumbled as it coughed out spurts of water, not so hot as to be painful to the touch but warm enough to be comforting. No bubbles, as he’d rather not heighten the risk of getting soap in Remus’ eyes.

Remus eyed the tub suspiciously, hunkering down to the ground, chin to the bathroom tile, and growled softly at it.

Ford huffed. “Come now, Remus, it’s just a bath. I bet you’re itchy, with your hair as dirty as it is.” He was also hoping the water might kill some of the bugs Remus likely had, if they did exist.

Despite the sound logic, Remus didn’t seem appeased. He kept glaring at the bathtub like he expected it to jump at him.

“Is it the noise? Is that the problem?” The pipes weren’t particularly good, hastily installed as they were, and the tub was full enough now. Ford pulled the handle to stop the flow, and it coughed out one last burst before settling, the pipes going quiet. Some of the tension in Remus’ frame softened slightly. “There, now will you get in?” Ford patted the edge of the tub in what he hoped looked inviting. “I think you’ll like it, if you gave it a shot.”

Remus’ eyes followed his hand, face and body still showing some clear apprehension. His eyes flicked towards the closed bathroom door consideringly. Ford sighed.

“Here, what if I went first?” Ford kicked off his shoes, then pulling off his clothes with a clinical detachment. Dropping his clothes on the ground and pushing them outside of the perspective splash zone, he set his glasses on the sink and eased himself down into the water. It was warm, really quite comfortable. He met Remus’ eyes, and gestured meaningfully to the water. “There, see? Perfectly fine.”

Remus watched him carefully. Creeping forward on his hands and knees, he lifted his head to peer into the tub. He dipped a tentative hand in, then hummed, the crease in his brow relaxing a tad.

“Just water,” Ford continued, knowing full well Remus didn’t understand him and talking nonetheless, “Nothing to be afraid of.” He reached over to pull softly yet insistently at Remus’ upper arm in a clear gesture to get over here. “Now get in before it goes cold.”

Remus clambered awkwardly over the side of the tub and flopped in.

“Remus!” Ford spluttered, wiping his face of the sudden splash of water Remus just sent in his direction. “Good lord, man!”

Remus popped out of the water, panting a bit - his version of a laugh, Ford had learned. Remus yipped at him, something playful mischievous in his eyes, bringing an arm down to stir up even more water at Ford. He barked excitedly before dropping the lower half of his face back under the water, blowing bubbles.

“We’re not here to play, Remus,” Ford said in what he hoped was a sufficiently stern tone. “You’re very dirty, and for your own health and comfort we need to clean you up. I’m only in the tub with you to make you feel more at ease in this unfamiliar environment.”

Remus looked up at him innocently and blew more bubbles with his nose. Ford sighed.

“You’ve had your fun, now turn around so I can get at your hair.” It would be a bit uncomfortable, and Ford usually didn’t allow people that close to him, especially without clothes on. But he knew that that was purely a cultural, societal thing. Remus wouldn’t think it was weird, and Ford didn’t need to think that hard about it. It was only Remus, after all.

Remus, of course, didn’t do as Ford commanded. He lifted his head out of the water and blew a small jet in Ford’s direction.

Ford huffed, but it was a weak sound. Stan used to do something similar, when they were young enough to share baths together. Splashing, kicking and laughing, throwing water in Ford’s face. The Stan Ford remembered would’ve hated this bath - there weren’t enough bubbles, and no toys to speak of.

Stanley had had a way of making everything, even the most mundane activities, fun. He was the one who came up with new games, who had all the best jokes.

Ford missed him.

He was brought back to the present by a hand pawing at him, Remus whining. He was looking at Ford worriedly, patting at Ford’s face clumsily. His own cheeks were damp, Ford realized - he’d started tearing up without realizing.

“I’m fine, Remus, thank you,” Ford said softly, gently pushing Remus’ arm away.

Remus kept whining, giving Ford a truly pitiful look. He shrank back, hunching until it was just his eyes above the water, looking down. It was strange, almost like he was-

“Oh Remus, no-” Ford grabbed him by the bicep, gently but firmly pulling him back up. “It’s not your fault, no need to act all guilty.”

Remus whined at him, but it was softer now. He looked at Ford with something like hope in his eyes, tentatively leaning towards him. Ford sighed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” He pet Remus’ hair, trying to be comforting. It seemed to work - Remus stopped whining, just leaning close. His previous energy seemed to have dimmed, leaving him subdued. It put a weighted, slightly guilty feeling in Ford’s chest to see Remus so restrained, even if it would make bathing him easier. “I just… get a bit in my head sometimes, that’s all.”

Using his hands he gently guided Remus to turn around, putting his back to Ford. Remus kept trying to turn around to look at him, but Ford just insistently pushed him back into place each time. He leaned over the side of the tub, picking up the soap bar and washcloth he’d left there.

“I lost my brother when I was a boy, you know,” Ford started, not really thinking about what he was saying as he wet the washcloth in the water. He rubbed the soap into the towel, covering it in suds and a faint, pine-y smell. “I was only five years old at the time.”

Remus stopped trying to move once Ford put the towel to his shoulder and started to scrub. He seemed to recognize what was going on now, and he relaxed contentedly into Ford’s working hands.

“We were traveling on a road trip to visit some distant family a few states away.” Ford scrubbed away what seemed like decades worth of dirt and grime, moving from Remus’ shoulders to his back. “I can’t remember what the occasion was. A shiva or a wedding, I suppose. My family wasn’t much for vacationing.” He smiled, wry and bitter.

Then he paused. He’d scrubbed away most of the grime on Remus’ back, finding it dirtier than he had realized. But underneath it was faded, scarring of rope-like slashes, thin and thick, long and short, that had been obscured before. They didn’t look like animal scratches.

Ford swallowed, forcing himself to go back to washing Remus, his hands now shaking slightly. “...I had fallen asleep in the car,” he continued, voice now trembling, struggling to keep his mind from the memory and his eyes from Remus’ back at the same time, “And when we stopped at the gas station, I didn’t wake up. Long car rides, they always… put me to sleep…”

Soapy water ran down his hand, the washcloth clenched so tight that his knuckles were bone-white. He switched to washing Remus’ arms.

“I guess he went in to steal us some snacks, but he must have forgotten to tell my parents, and they were in such a rush to get there on time, they just… they didn’t notice he didn’t get back in the car.”

He dropped the towel in the water. For a minute he just watched it sink, caught suddenly in the moment, unable to move. The soap dissipated into the water, the towel drifted back up to the top. He pushed it away, reaching for the small water pitcher he’d set aside.

“If I hadn’t fallen asleep, if I’d been awake to tell them he wasn’t back, if I had been able to go with him-” he snapped his mouth shut suddenly, breathing sharply. He knew the answer to that.

He would’ve stayed behind in a heartbeat if it meant he could have remained with Stanley.

That’s what got him about it all. The fact that everything would have been different if he had just woken up. How easily preventable it all was.

But he hadn’t woken up. And now he didn’t have a brother.

His hand tightened around the handle of the pitcher. He took a measured, sharp breath, dunked the pitcher into the bath, and promptly dumped water over Remus’ head.

Remus yelped, startled by the sudden dousing, whipping his head around to blink at Ford in surprise. Ford pushed him back into position. “I know, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll… I’ll give you a warning next time.”

Deep breath. It’s been twenty years.

He filled the pitcher again, placing a hand on Remus’ shoulder as a warning and then slowly pouring the water into his hair again, taking care to wet the stubborn knots and mats as well. Twenty years.

He set the pitcher aside and squirted some shampoo into his hand, then began working it into Remus’ thick hair. Ford had never had hair as long as Remus’, and it only seemed to get longer when wet. It was definitely supposed to be curly, Ford thought, but it was in such poor condition it was hard to tell. He pulled out a twig from Remus’ hair. Very poor condition.

Stanley would have liked Remus. He would have thought he was cool at first, and then he would have thought he was fun when he got to know Remus’ personality. He would have-

“I built my lab with an extra room, you know. If I- when I find him.” Ford sighed, picking at one of the knots with his fingers. He should have tried to detangle Remus’ hair before he put the shampoo in. “Right across from mine. So that we wouldn’t have to be far apart ever again.”

The knot slowly came loose, soapy hair spilling over Ford’s fingers. He reached for the pitcher again, guiding Remus to tip his head back so he wouldn’t get soap in his eyes as Ford rinsed out his hair. The shampoo suds swirled in the water.

Ford set the pitcher aside again, deciding to focus on the knots before he moved to the conditioner. He hadn’t had anything to de-mat hair around the lab, so he’d settled for a comb, some oil, and some scissors if working them out proved impossible.

He wanted to keep as much of Remus’ hair intact as possible. He hadn’t devised a way to efficiently and effectively communicate with the creature yet, and he didn’t want to potentially risk upsetting him by chopping off his hair. It was entirely possible Remus might be attached to his current hair length and would react poorly to having it cut. It certainly was a very impressive length, even with the mats making it look shorter than it likely actually was.

“That reminds me,” Ford said idly as he took up the comb in one hand and the oil in the other, “I’ll need to set up some sort of quarters for you if you are to stay here. I’m certainly not going to make you sleep outside - unless you want to, I suppose, but I think you’ll find yourself much more comfortable indoors.”

Ford really hoped Remus would choose to stay. His lab felt much more like a home just with Remus in it - Remus somehow seemed to thaw parts of him that had long frozen solid twenty years ago, when Ford lost his brother. He felt warmed by him in that sun-touching way only Stanley had been able to do.

Perhaps if he were to make his home as appealing, as comfortable as possible to Remus, he might be much more inclined to stick around. Ford straightened a little, brain starting to waken from the murk and spin quickly, whirling with sudden activity. What did Remus like to eat? What would he find most comfortable? Would he find the stairs too awkward to climb, would an elevator just make him nauseous? Would he like it if Ford installed more windows, got some house plants? He’d need something to keep him from becoming bored indoors as well. What would that be?

Ford could remodel. Maybe he should buy new furniture. Would Remus be offended if Ford bought him dog toys? Dog treats? If Ford gave him enough food, would he stay? Ford could do, would do anything. Whatever Remus wanted, just so long as he stayed.

Another knot unraveled between Ford’s fingers. He sighed. He’d be at this for a while.

One at a time, Ford painstakingly untangled Remus’ hair, stopping periodically to pour more water over his head whenever his hair started drying. It took a surprisingly long amount of time, but Remus did have a lot of hair.

And as he worked, he talked.

“I’ve been studying anomalies in Gravity Falls since I graduated,” he said, using the comb to work out one of the mats. “I was originally going to West Coast Tech, but, ah,” he frowned, grinding his teeth together at the memory, “It turned out they had already met their Jewish quota for that year. I could have waited, I suppose, but I was desperate to get out of the house. It was suffocating in there.”

Remus idly stirred his hands in the water as Ford worked, content and patient. He seemed to enjoy the attention and the ministrations, leaning towards Ford when he could, seeming happy whenever Ford picked the work back up after a brief pause. Ford wondered if he thought of it as being groomed - Ford was no expert in coyotes, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that was a way they strengthened social bonds. It was a common behaviour among social mammals.

“The rules are rigid and outdated, not to mention discriminatory.” Ford sighed, feeling his brow furrow as he continued trying to comb out a mat. He continued, voice becoming more quiet and bitter, “It’s always something, Remus. If it’s not my hands, then it’s my family background, or something to do with my behavior, somehow.”

The mat finally came loose under his hand and comb. Ford moved on to the next one.

“I don’t understand people. They’re like aliens to me, Remus. There’s so many rules, and they can be so illogical - and they never tell you what they actually think, or how they’re actually feeling, you’re just expected to know, somehow.” Ford exhaled sharply out of his nose. “It’s part of the reason why I dedicated my life to studying the strange and paranormal. To me, that’s easier to understand than why someone might have reacted a certain way to something I said.”

Remus swirled a finger in the water, making patterns out of the soap and shampoo that had been washed in and floated on the top like foam.

“You don’t even speak and yet I already feel so much more at ease with you than I do with any of the locals in this town, and I’ve been living here for years.” Another mat finally came free under Ford’s comb and hands. He moved to the next. “…I was the same with Stanley, you know, it just came so naturally, before…”

Ford swallowed.

“We were so close, and…” The comb caught on the mat, becoming snagged. “And then…”

Ford stamped his mouth shut. No. He wasn’t doing this again. Stanley wasn’t dead, he was fine, any day now Ford would get a call saying they’d found him, any day now he’d come back to Ford.

“He’s going to come back,” Ford finished firmly. “I know he will. We won’t be apart for long.”

For now Ford sat in a bathtub, the water slowly going cold, picking knots and mats out of a wildman’s hair.

A pile of sticks, leaves, and other assorted small objects accumulated on the ground as he worked, pulling them out of Remus’ thick brown hair.

The sheer length of Remus’ hair was a marvel in and of itself. As Ford unraveled the years worth of tangles, knots, and mats, it seemed only to reveal itself to be even longer and longer, spooling down Renus’ back, his shoulders, his front, fanning out in the water.

He looked like a creature out of a fairytale, an ancient fae of the forest. But then Remus tilted his head, glanced back at him with wide brown eyes, and the faerie-like illusion was broken. There was no century-old unknowableness in those eyes - they were wide and open and trusting. His eyes were human.

Ford guided his head back to looking forward, tsk’ing softly. “This wouldn’t take so long if you took better care of your hair. For an anomalous entity, you certainly don’t seem to have any sort of magic about you. I’d think one of those fae-types would be able to keep themselves tidier than this.”

Remus tilted his head toward the bathroom door consideringly. Ford huffed.

“I’m almost done,” Ford said. “I’m actually working quite quickly, you know. This is hardly an easy job.”

Picking up the scissors and a bowl he had set aside, Ford made quick work of the mats that had proven impossible to tame. He did his best to keep the hair from falling into the water - the mats would probably clog the drain if given the chance, and besides, their bath wasn’t over yet.

Once the last of the mats were gone, he put the scissors and the bowl to the side and ran the comb through Remus’ hair one more time. It took a moment to get through all of it, the hair being as long as it was. It didn’t snag even once. Ford nodded to himself, satisfied.

“Right. Now we just have to apply the conditioner and wash your front, and we’ll be done.” Ford set the comb aside and reached for the pitcher, scooping up some water from the bath. “I think you’ll find yourself enjoying how loose your hair is after this. It hardly seemed comfortable as it was before.”

He gently poured the water over Remus’ head and down his hair, making sure it was well-soaked. Remus stiffened slightly, letting out a small, unhappy whining sound.

“The water’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Ford sighed. He didn’t want Remus feeling uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much he could do. “We’re almost done.”

He patted Remus’ back, and surprisingly the creature actually did relax at that, muscles untensing under Ford’s hand with a small sigh. In retrospect, it made sense that Remus would be tactile like this - what with his affectionate behaviour, as well as his seeming lack of language comprehension, it was probably the best way to communicate with him. Ford made a mental note of that, archiving it in his head.

Ford set the pitcher aside and grabbed the conditioner, squirting a generous amount of it into his hand. He lathered Remus’ hair, finding it satisfyingly smooth and easy to work with now. Remus seemed to enjoy the attention just as he had with the shampoo - he leaned into Ford’s hands, wiggling happily in place. Ford smiled softly at him, patting the side of his head affectionately.

Once he was done with the conditioner, Ford rinsed his hands in the bath, then reached over and plucked up the washcloth that had previously been floating around, aimless and slow, on the surface of the water.

“If memory serves correctly, you’re supposed to let conditioner sit for a minute or two before rinsing it back out.” He reached over the side of the tub, grabbing the soap bar again and rubbing it into the towel. “We can do a bit more washing up in the meantime.”

Setting the soap aside again for the last time, Ford grasped Remus by the shoulder and wordlessly instructed him to face him. Remus looked up at him, - Remus always held himself with a slouch, like he was always trying to make himself seem smaller - tilting his head and letting out a small boof.

“Just these last two steps,” Ford reminded him. He picked up one of Remus’ arms, scrubbing at the dirt there.

Just like with before, it took some scrubbing. The water had slowly turned gray, and it grew darker still. Ford tried not to think about how he and Remus both were marinating in shampoo, soap, and increasingly dirty water. Among whatever other things Remus had on him.

When he got both of Remus’ arms done, he moved on to his torso, and then the trickiest part - his face.

“Don’t squirm,” Ford warned him pointlessly. “Not unless you want soap in your eyes.”

He carefully wiped at Remus’ face. It was still dirty, but not as dirty as the rest of him. Thankfully Remus didn’t seem to be in the habit of sticking his face into the dirt nearly as much as he did his arms and back. The grime came away easier, less layers of it.

Ford held him by the chin with one hand to keep him still, and it worked surprisingly well. Remus was completely docile as Ford washed his face and neck, running the cloth over his cheeks, his forehead, even down his neck-

-where the dirt came away to reveal a birthmark. Ford’s hand stalled.

Really, it was an incredibly benign birthmark. Two moles, about an inch apart, one right below the other, down the side of his neck. They were faint, a barely-there tint easily hidden by a shirt collar. Ford knew that birthmark. He knew it very well.

It was on his neck too. As had it been on Stanley’s as well, because they were identical twins. Stanley used to say it was their ‘cool vampire bite scars, Sixer!’

Ford’s eyes moved up. He wiped at Remus’ face and, would you look at that.

The Pines family nose was very distinctive. It had been passed down to Ford and Stanley through their father, and his father before him, extending in an endless chain of noses. It was big and oddly shaped and a reddish-orangish color, standing out sharply from their natural Ashkenazi-paleness.

Ford had found this nose a bit embarrassing, teased as he would be for it (he was teased for just about everything about him, because everything about him was abnormal), but then he would remember how proud Stanley had been of their noses. How much glee and pride he took from looking across a family reunion and seeing their nose on almost all of the faces there. How he’d loved how it made them look like their family. And remembering that, Ford could never feel bad about it for long, because it had been something that made Stanley happy.

And Remus had their nose.

A strange noise filled the bathroom, and it took Ford a moment to realize it was him. Laughing, except he didn’t find this funny. He was giggling uncontrollably, and none of this was funny at all.

“No,” Ford said, wildly, head feeling dizzy, swimming like the water, rushing and roaring, “No, no, no.”

Remus blinked at him, making an inquisitive sort of noise.

Ford barely processed the towel slipping out his hands or himself shrinking backwards, still shaking with high, manic giggling. “No. No! You’re not him. You’re- you’re not him.”

Remus whined at him, leaning forward with a concerned look on his face.

Remus couldn’t be Stanley. Remus couldn’t be Stanley because Stanley couldn’t be sitting in front of Ford, dirty, ribs faintly showing through his sides, face gaunt, hair overgrown. Not understanding English, living in the woods. Isolated from society for long enough he couldn’t remember his own language. Couldn’t remember he was human, that he wasn’t a fucking coyote. Remus could not be Stanley, Stanley could not be Remus.

Ford cackled, finding his throat constricting and his head going fuzzy. He was distantly aware his breathing wasn’t right, that he wasn’t getting enough air, but it barely registered. It didn’t matter. “This is all a very funny coincidence. You aren’t- you’re not him. You’re not him!”

Remus shrank a bit, whining loudly. He crawled forward, almost like he was scared, until he was close enough to paw at Ford’s face, his shoulders. Pawing, because he didn’t remember how to use his hands.

No! No. Remus was not Stanley. It was a coincidence. A complete coincidence!

“Very funny,” Ford said nonsensically. “I can’t believe- I almost- and you-” Ford shook his head, giggling, vision going blurry around the edges, and he didn’t know if it was from tears or if he was about to faint and he didn’t care either way.

He wasn’t Stanley, he couldn’t be Stanley. Stanley couldn’t be starving in the woods, small from malnourishment. Stanley couldn’t have those scars on his back. Stanley couldn’t have mats in his hair and a wild look in his eyes and visible ribs. Stanley couldn’t have hair so long from twenty years without human contact. Ford did not put his brother in a snare and Ford was being very reasonable and very logical and he did not abandon his brother to be alone in the cold and starving and having to join a fucking pack of coyotes to survive because Ford was an idiot child who couldn’t keep his eyes open for long enough to make sure his brother wasn’t left behind like a discarded toy. None of these things ever happened-!

Something wet rasped against the six-fingered hand white knuckled around the edge of the bathtub.

Ford jerked his hand back, suddenly thrust out of his thoughts and back into the present. Remus was whining very loudly at him now, eyes wide and scared and tongue peeking out of his mouth from actually licking Ford’s hand like a concerned dog trying to calm someone down.

Ford panted. He stared at Remus and Remus stared back. Still whining, Remus shuffled forward the water, pawing at Ford, looking like was about to try and lick him again.

And without thinking Ford suddenly seized Remus, gripping him by the shoulders intensely. Remus yelped and for a moment looked like he might bite at Ford, but then Ford started talking.

“You aren’t him,” Ford whispered intensely. “We’re going to finish this bath, and then I’m going to prove you aren’t him, and I’m going to feel very silly about this whole thing, and you won’t care, because you can’t understand English and you probably aren’t human anyways. And then I’m going to laugh this whole thing off and forget it ever happened.”

Remus just blinked up at him worriedly.

“You aren’t my brother,” Ford insisted, desperation starting to leak through his voice. “I- I would know if you were.”

(And deep down, he did.)