For you, a gift, written into the ask box.
Ford was still scribbling notes on his latest dissected specimen when the elevator hummed to life. He glanced at the elevator.
It would probably be fine. Now that Ford had a barrier up to protect his home from Bill, he had plenty of time to work on this. He could get the portal running at any time. Who knew what long term effects Stanley would experience if he waited too long to solve this problem.
Stanley probably wouldn't be happy to see what Ford was working on, though. Should he hide it? He glanced from the journal page before him, then the specimen, then at the jar of still living specimens beside him.
The elevator slowed and came to a stop. Too late now.
Ford turned away from his work desk just as the elevator doors slid open. Stanley stepped out, holding a plate covered in tinfoil. The constant hum that accompanied his brother was inaudible, but Ford could easily see the bees flying around him.
"Don't glare at me, poindexter." Stanley grumbled. "It's long past dinnertime, and since you still hadn't made your way up, I made you something."
"I am not glaring at you." Ford mumbled.
Stan scoffed. "Sure, whatever." As he approached Ford's desk, the buzzing slowly increased in volume.
Stan set the plate down with a clatter. "Bone appateeth, or whatever."
"Thank you, Stanley. I do appreciate the effort."
"Don't worry about it." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It's just the last of what you had in your fridge. If you wanna eat tomorrow, you'll hafta go shopping."
Ford's fingers stilled just before he touched the tinfoil. He turned his head to look at his twin. "You seem rather relaxed about the fact I have no food in my house."
Ford stared at his twin for a long moment. Then he turned back to the covered plate. "You said this was the last of it, right?"
"Have you already eaten dinner, then?"
Another shrug. "Nah, I haven't. Just not really hungry, y'know?"
Ford frowned at him. Even though they'd been apart for ten years, Ford liked to think he knew his brother well. Most of his mannerisms were the same now as they had been when they were teenagers, so it was easy for Ford to pick up when his twin was lying.
But he wasn't, which didn't make sense. The Stanley Ford knew had never been the type to skip meals. He was always the one dragging Ford home before dinner, or to one of the stalls on the boardwalk when neither of them wanted to be home yet.
"I haven't seen you eat a single thing since you arrived here a few days ago." He said slowly. "How can you not be hungry?"
Stanley shrugged a third time. "I don't really get very hungry anymore." He said, voice lazy and indifferent. "As long as these babies get enough nectar or sugar water-" Stanley patted his stomach, and the bee's buzzing grew louder, but settled down quickly. "- I'm fine."
Ford frowned. "That just-" He sighed. "It does not sound right to me, Stanley. I don't think-"
"Stanford." Stanley's voice was firm. "Back off. Me and my bees are fine. We have a good thing goin', here. I shelter 'em, they keep me warm. I make sure they get nectar, I don't get hungry. It's fine." He sighed, reaching up to scratch his head. Thankfully for Ford's sanity, the bee's buzzing stayed at the same level. "I don't get why you keep making a big deal of this. You're just-" Stanley frowned. "What's the word for, uh, making a mountain from a molehill?"
"I'm not catastrophizing, Stanley, I-"
Stanley snapped his fingers. The bees flying around all made their way back to him. "Catastrophizing! Yea. You're just doing that. You need to quit being so paranoid, Sixer." Stanley moved his hand up to one of the bees that had just landed, lightly rubbing a knuckle against it. If Ford didn't know better, he could have sworn the insect pressed back against the contact.
"We take care of each other." Stanley continued. "I don't understand why you insist on trying to see the worst in them."
Ford watched as one of the bees crawled down Stan's arm and disappeared into one of the holes in his skin.
A shiver ran down Ford's spine. The very thought of how that would feel against his nerve endings left him twitchy and needing a shower.
"Right." He mumbled. "I don't understand either."
HE'S STAN! HE'S FULL OF BEES! HE IS DOING THE OPPOSITE OF CATASTROPHIZING! MAN VERY UNDERWHELMED BY WHATS HAPPENING TO HIM! PLEASE! PLEASE BE MORE WORRIED ABOUT THE BEES STAN!
Stan's slowly starving to death (?) and full of bees and Ford's being a very normal level of concerned about this.
This is so close to being horror. Toeing the line of The Horror of being Full of Bees but also its fine. Its sooo good actually. Don't even worry about it.
God I love Bee Stan. He's such a guy. Please feel more intense worry about your circumstances. Please let your brother make sure you're not actively dying.
Thank you so much for placing this baby in my inbox. I promise to love and cherish it. Then chuck it into the Tumblr Stream so other people can Look at it.
