#!!!!! aaaaaaaaaaa

[uwillneverknowwho]

Good morning everyone I hear there was a category 10 Spiderbit incident

[gryphsdeadbones]

where you are

Merry Christmas @jimsdeadbones!! I’m sorry I couldn’t give this earlier and had to submit it to you. I’m glad to finally reveal that I’m your secret santa and I hope you enjoy this :) Merry Christmas!!

Thank you also to @stariousfalls for organizing this whole thing!

Stan’s eyes sweep over the never-ending view of the sea in front of him, a content sigh leaving his lips. Laid back on a chair he’d forced Ford to let him bring on the ship, he feels well rested for once. The smell of the sea, the feel of the breeze, and the sight of the sun meeting the sea — it’s all something he’d never thought he’d achieve. But he did. He’s here.

He’s right where he’s always wanted to be.

His brother has his hands on the ship’s helm, the waters before him hasn’t left his sight in over two (maybe three) hours now. Well, Stan’s not actually sure, but it’s been a pretty long time.

“Hey, Sixer,” he calls out, but there isn’t a response. He doesn’t even turn around. “Ford, come over here and rest. You’ve been at it for quite a while, I’ll even let ya take my seat for once. Ya don’t wanna pass up an opportunity like this.”

When Stanford doesn’t turn around, he comes to the conclusion that his brother — as dumb as it may seem — has fallen asleep standing up.

Grumbling, he stands up and walks over the short distance between him and his brother and shakes his shoulders. His guess is confirmed when his brother gives a startled yelp, his eyes snapping open.

“Stan…?” Ford asks. Blinking quickly and trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he continues, “What…?”

“Sheesh, you’d think you’re the one who got amnesia,” Stan comments, a light smile resting on his lips. “Ya fell asleep, Poindexter. We’re sailing the seven seas and I trust ya to sail us away and you fall asleep.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly, as he adjusts his glasses. He clears his throat. “I’ll just continue—”

Stan grabs his arm before they can touch the helm again. “Not today, pal. Today’s rest day, meaning you and I are gonna sit in those two chairs over there,” he says, as he points to the chair he was sitting on earlier and the smaller, make-shift version next to it, “and wait until our butts start melting and are numb enough that we can’t stand up. Got it?”

“But we won’t get anywhere like that,” Ford argues. “There’s so much to explore, so much to see!”

“And so much time to rest. We’ll be sailing for a year, Ford. I think at least half of that can be given to resting, don’t ya? Besides, you’re wearing yourself too thin. You need to rest.”

“Fine,” he says, hesitant. “But only for an hour, okay? I won’t take too long, and we need to get there before nightfall.”

“Sure, whatever ya say, nerd,” Stan agrees. He sits back on the chair, stretching his arms. “Now rest. I’ll watch out for anything that tries to kill us, fight it as quietly as possible for your sake, and try not to die. Sound good?”

He nods slowly, after a beat. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

Stan chuckles. “Sure, Poindexter, but if anything, I think you changed a butt lot more. A lot more nerdy, but a lot more caring.”

“Thanks, Stan.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” he says, brushing his word’s off. “Might start the apocalypse if you say that again.”

Ford doesn’t falter. “I mean it this time, you know.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Stan asks teasingly, but decides to say his next more seriously. “But you’re welcome.”

A moment passes without words. For the first time in his life, he feels as if the silence isn’t haunting him. After thirty years of staying in the Shack with no one else to talk to but silence, it starts to feel a little nice to be with someone and sit in comfortable silence.

He doesn’t feel scared anymore.

A question pops into his mind, one that has bugged him for as long as he can remember. He pauses before asking, but — he has to know.

He takes a deep breath. “Were you scared…when you got sucked in the portal?”

Well, Ford doesn’t look angry at the mention of the incident. He just looks down, crinkling his forehead. He answers quietly, “Of course I was.”

Stan flinches.

“Everyday I was scared I would wake up captured, surrounded by beings I never expected to even exist and they’d send me off the Cipher like I was nothing. I spent my days trying to think of ways I could kill him, knowing that I…” his voice stops. “Knowing that I wouldn’t make it out alive.”

“Ford—”

“Did I ever tell you I stumbled across a dimension where everything went well? Where you didn’t push me into that stupid portal and I accomplished everything I ever wanted? You sailed away like I had asked, and everything was so damn perfect there, it was hard to imagine,” his breath hitches, his voice cracking at the last sentence.

“I’m sorry.”

The words leave his lips like it’s a reflex, a coping mechanism of sorts. He’d said those two words too many times to count, it almost feels like it’s meaningless.

“Don’t be,” Ford says, a ghost of a smile resting on his lips. “I think I like it in my own dimension better.”

“Why?” Stan dares to ask, throat dry with heaviness and guilt.

“Because you’re here,” he says simply. He grins. “And because of that, I got to meet my niece and nephew, I get to sail around the world with you — I have a family. So thank you.”

Stan’s mood instantly picks up with his brother’s words, but his heart still feels a little heavy.

“You’re welcome.” He swallows his guilt, heart in mouth, and chest in pain. “Any time.”

It’s quiet again. Stan doesn’t like it this time.

“How about you? Were you scared? When I got sucked into the portal?”

Stan doesn’t try to sugar coat his words. “Absolutely terrified.”

“What got you through it?” Ford asks, eyes softening.

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes. Stan doesn’t remember a lot of things, but dammit, he remembers every single day he woke up and spent the nights trying to get his brother back. It’s like reawakening a nightmare.

But he got through that nightmare. He woke up. He just needs to remember how.

“You,” he says softly. “And the kids. Those troublemakers, Soos, they became family to me. I need them.”

Stan can’t move, but Ford can. His brother sits down next to him and hugs him, eyes wrapped around his shoulders. His breathing steadies.

“And we all need you,” Ford replies softly. “You’re our hero.”

When his brother lets go of the hug, Stan’s chest feels a lot lighter.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Woah, that got way too deep for me. Probably even deeper than the ocean we’re on top of.”

Ford laughs. “You’re right. Let’s not do that again for a while.”

“That I can agree with,” Stan huffs, arms crossed. Suddenly overtaken by exhaustion, he remembers the original reason for both of them resting.

“Now go sleep. The hour ain’t gonna wait for ya,” Stan says, laying back to rest more comfortably.

He watches as his brother closes his eyes, a content smile resting on his lips. No more nightmares and no more running away. He doesn’t have to hide.

He’s right where he wants to be.