A short fic because the concept came up again and I really wanted to write for it.
AO3 link
It's the island he'd been dying to visit ever since he'd read about it back in college, and it's gone. At first, he's confused, thinks it's the map. He pulls out another. It's not there either. He puzzles for a few moments, and that's when the possibility creeps into his head. It terrifies him, so he smothers it in denial and pulls out the rest of their maps.
With every single one, he shakes harder until he can't even hold them in his hand. It's gone. There's not even a mention or a trace of it. The paper falls from his grasp and flutters to the floor. His mind is buzzing with a deafening static, and it feels like someone is stepping on his throat. His emotions are flying by so quickly that he can't pin them down, he can't tell if he wants to scream or cry or stay standing there, staring at the floor as the universe takes a match to his life.
Everything suddenly feels so wrong. The sound of the ocean, the sway of the boat, even his own skin feels like it doesn't belong. His hands unconsciously start to itch at his skin, and once he starts he can't stop, hyperventilating as he frantically claws at his scalp, at the hat that his niece - no, not his, that some other Ford's niece knitted for him. The thought makes his head ring, the pain in his head intensifying. He screams, his fist flies, and it puts a neat hole into the wall.
The impact snaps him out of it somewhat, and he stumbles away, collapsing into the booth behind him. He hangs his still pounding head, putting his face into his numb hands, and tries to control his wheezing breaths.
"Stanford?"
Nothing could have stopped his rapidly beating heart faster.
His head snaps up with a devastated look, seeing the concern on his brot- on Stanley's face. His whole body feels heavy as it slams into him, the thought of Stan finally settling in his mind, and it somehow makes Ford's state of mind plummet even further than it already had.
How the hell am I supposed to tell him?
Stanley hesitantly sits down across from him. Ford desperately avoids his gaze.
"Are you okay, bro?" Stan asks softly, in a voice that Ford's rarely ever heard. He must have really rattled Stanley if he's got him this open. He can't bring himself to answer, breath that had stopped starting to come out in quickened pants.
Stanley is patient, and somehow it just makes Ford feel worse as he sits there trying to bring himself to tell him. It occurs to him that he never has to tell him, that he can lie the rest of his life, that he can pretend nothing is so supremely wrong, Stanley can stay ignorantly happy and Ford can try and ignore the tightness that's drilled down to his very core.
Even getting the I of doing that makes him hate himself.
He can't tell how long he's sitting there like that when he hears Stan move. He drops a hand, glancing at the one stretched across the table to him. He doesn't have to look up to know what Stanley looks like right now. He looks away again.
"Ford..." Stan breathes, and Ford's shoulders tighten. "Whatever's going on, you can tell me, okay? I'm here."
Ford thinks that's a lie.
Another few minutes pass, Ford still shaking, breathing still irregular. This time Stan is less patient. You're scaring him, Ford thinks.
"Stanford, please." Stan whispers again, distress evident in his voice "I know you, and this... seems really bad, please tell me what's wrong."
"No, you don't." Ford unconsciously says under his breath, even more quiet behind the curtain of his hands.
"What?"
"You don't know me, Stanley!" Ford bellows, finally facing the man who thought he was his brother with fire in his eyes. Stanley jumps back at the outburst, hurt confusion all over his face, and Stanford's heart drops. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and Stanley is suddenly visibly as alarmed by them as Ford is.
"I-I'm sorry, I... You don't- I'm sorry." Ford apologized dazedly, sitting back down, not even realizing he'd shot up when he yelled. He doesn't bother wiping away the tears that are suddenly rolling down his face as he stares silently at the tabletop. Stan studies him with apprehension.
Ford takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes, before letting it out and swallowing. His vision is blurry through the tears when he opens his eyes again, and he still doesn't bother with them. One of them rolls off his cheek and down his neck, cold and uncomfortable. He breathes again. Then again. Then again until he's calmed.
"Stanley," He starts weakly, voice cracking. There's a long pause as Stan swallows, hands wringing with impatience. Ford's hands start to shake again. He's just got to do this quick. "Stanley, I'm in the wrong dimension."
Stanley is completely silent and it makes Ford's skin start to itch again. He resists the urge as Stan's eyebrows furrow and his eyes dart along the table as his brain wraps itself around what Ford has said.
"You're..." Stan croaks out finally, panic rising in his voice as he continues "You're not my Ford?"
Ford's throat tightens again and the tears sting even more than they did before as he shakes his head "I'm not, Stan. I'm sorry."
"How do you know?" Stan questions, voice more desperate than Ford's ever heard it.
"My- My universe, it has a large island a couple miles off the coast of China and- and it doesn't exist in this universe." Ford explains, feeling more pained as he watches Stan's face drop, as he watches Stan go through the same thing he went through when it first hit him.
"So you're telling me I didn't- You're telling me that my brother's still out there?" Stan cries, in a voice so broken that it takes all Ford's strength not to sob "You're really not him?"
"I'm really not, Stanley, I'm- I'm so sorry." He's not even halfway through the sentence before Stanley sobs, his hands clasping together and going to his forehead.
"No... no, no... are you kidding me..." Stanley whimpers and tears roll down his face even worse than Ford's own. Ford doesn't know what the hell to do, has no way to fix this or to even try to make it better. He extends a hand and Stanley grabs it for support, a death grip that Stanford himself returns.
This isn't his Stanley. He's not his Ford. For all he knows, this Stanley's Ford is dead, or happy in some other universe, probably still hates him. His own Stanley might still be trying to turn on the portal. His own Stanley might have given up on him and had his own life. His own Stanley could be dead too. He has no idea what to do with that information. He doesn't think Stanley does either. So he just stares on in horror as Stanley crumbles before him, as his body is wracked with violent sobs, as the truth behind the 3 years they've spent together at sea falls apart.
How about Stan for your 100 word song lyric writing thing?
Lunar Sea - Camera Obscura. Yet again kind of fitting.
That night, he doesn't stay in the house. He tries to sleep, but he can't even sit still. He tries going down to watch TV, but everything feels wrong. He feels wrong, the house feels wrong.
So he gets up, puts his robe on, and gets in his car. He drives for 3 hours but it feels like only minutes.
He steps out, and goosebumps erupt across his skin. The air is salty and cold, the wind whips past his face, the sand sticks to his bare feet. The sea is dark and ominous. Stan doesn't know what he feels.
For the 100 words writing, could you do one for Stan? Thank you!!
oh my god, I got Ya Got Trouble from The Music Man. how fitting
"What's that?" Stan exclaims in disbelief, putting on the most over emotional expression of shock a man can manage "You mean you haven't heard?!"
The small town man shakes his head, face scrunched up in confusion and concern.
"You're lucky I came along right on time, then!" Stan says, exaggerating his relief in just the right way, because the man nods foolishly along. "Could have been a disaster!"
A few bystanders have stopped and are looking in interest at Stanley's theatrics. Stan smiles "But no need to worry, I've got just the thing to keep you and your kids safe."
Ford studies Stanley from across the table, dazedly content expression on his face. His brother was oblivious to the stare, focus entirely on the needle and thread he was poking and pulling through the torn jacket on the table. He's not sure how long he was staring, mind pleasantly fuzzy and relaxed, a state only Stanley seemed capable of causing. Quietly, Ford set down the pen he was loosely holding, and scooted himself around the edge of the curved booth, situating himself next to his twin. The only acknowledgment of the change he got was a minuscule turn of Stan's head before it turned right back to the task at hand. Ford only gazed at him for a moment longer before a smile works onto his face.
"Can I kiss you?" Stanford asks casually.
Stan's brows rise at the out-of-nowhere question, giving Ford a side eye glance before looking back down, a light dust to his cheeks. "You don't need to ask, you know." He grumbles, fidgeting with the fabric in his hands.
"Yes, I do." Ford's smile widens "Because it makes you blush like that."
Stanley huffs, setting the sewing supplies on the table and frowning, face becoming even more flush after the comment "I'm not blushing."
"You just got redder." Stanford teases, leaning closer with a fond, toothy smile.
"No I didn't." Stan says too quickly, crossing his arms and raising his head defiantly, eyes closed and frown still cemented onto his face.
"For someone who's supposed to be a con-man, you sure are a terrible liar." Ford prods again, not even trying to hide the smugness in his voice. He leans even closer to Stan, pressing their shoulders together, reveling in the way Stan poutily leans away.
"Look, are you gonna kiss me or what?!" Stan finally snaps, tapping his fingers impatiently.
Stanford chuckles, then nudges Stan's shoulder with his own. Stan turns to him, Ford takes his face into his hands and pulls him into a kiss. It lasts a few moments before their lips smack apart, and Ford leans back away with a satisfied smile.
An unfortunately short birthday gift for @munchlaxin! Who... already read this like a week ago. A lot of others have already seen it too... because self control is overrated, right? I’m kinda proud of it dangit
Soft voices break through the gentle silence of the ocean. Moonlight filters through the porthole in the berth, casting a blue light over the two figures there.
"We need to go to sleep, Stanley." Ford whispers, eyes lidded as he stares at his brothers face across from him. It's inches away from his own, close enough that he can make out his features even in the pale light. There's no one around, no reason to whisper, but both keep their voices low, feeling as if anything above a murmur would break the moment.
Stanley chuckles again, "Sorry, sorry," he apologizes, "I just can't get the look on the guys face out of my head."
Ford laughs too, more of a hum than anything, hand coming up to rest between their heads. Stanley's own wordlessly comes up, fingers running along his wrist before their fingers intertwine - a perfect fit, always has been. Ford squeezes. "He did look rather ridiculous."
"Serves him right, tryin' ta put the moves on ya." Stanley recounts with mirth, thumb running over the back of Ford's hand. "Couldn't resist giving him the old switcharoo."
Ford hums, "Can't believe he didn't catch on until we were side by side."
Stan's teeth flash as his smile widens, smile infectuous as Ford's naturally mirrors it, and Stan is clearly holding back laughter when he says "But man, when he did..."
The both of them break into a hushed fit of laughter, eyes closed, shoulders shaking. The laughter lasted for minutes, before slowly fading, as their eyes opened and connected again. The silence is comfortable, gentle, as they lay there in the stillness. Ford is staring at Stan's content face with a small, fond smile, lips twitching when the feeling comes to him. He's staring right into the identical eyes across from him when he says it, easy as breathing.
"I love you."
It's the barest of whispers but it feels louder than thunder. It feels louder than the sudden pounding of his heart. Stan's eyes widen, his mouth opens ever so slightly. Ford's smile widens at the look of shock, thinking in that moment Stan looked quite adorable, as he noticed the coloring of his twins cheeks. Stan's lips quiver slightly, twitching up into a tentative smile, and in an even quieter whisper, he returns "I love you too, Ford."
And Ford gives a soft, half laugh, half sigh to that. He pulls Stan to him, nestling himself under Stan's head and burying his face into his chest, content smile on his face and a pleasant, undeniably fuzzy feeling all over. Stan's big arms wrap around him, so safe and warm, and they tighten minutely around his arms. His twins head falls, nuzzles into his neck, something of a laugh and a sob escaping him.
And if Ford notices some tears falling onto his shoulder, he ignores it. What are brothers for, right?
Ford yawns as steps into the dim morning lighting that was filtering into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and turns on the bathtub tap, and wastes no time in removing his clothes. When he walks towards the tap to check the temperature of the water, though, he catches a flash of color in the mirror. He stops in his tracks. The floorboard creeks a little as he steps a bit farther from the mirror. He stares at his eyes in the mirror, a frown on his face.
Then, for the sake of sheer self hatred, he turns around, and twists his body to look. An impressive, mournful sigh falls from his lips as he glares at the bright, sparkly tattoo that rested just at the bottom of his spine, directly over where the lord split him. He's just about to close his eyes in defeat when-
The door opens. Stan yells. Ford yells.
And without thinking about anything but the tattoo and working on reflex, Ford turns towards Stanley.
Which resulted in a rather frantic, overlapping, barely understandable screaming session.
"GAH! Oh, c'mo- Ford!" Stan exclaims-
"Great gods, Stanley-" Ford yells right back, face pale-
"Why the hell would you turn towards me-" Stan turns away and over dramatically covers his eyes.
"don't you ever knock!" Ford's brain finally catches up and he covers himself with his hands.
"any normal person would turn away-"
"The tap was running, I was clearly in here-"
"Jesus Christ, I did not want to see that-"
"Alright, that is very rude I do not-"
"ever in my god damn life!"
"look that bad!"
The screaming finally stops. Ford's eyes widen as he notices the door still gaping in front of his brother, and Stan seems to notice at the same time as him because he's already slamming it shut before Ford can even get out a "Close-"
The sound of the door slamming makes them both realize. Ten seconds of silence passes.
"Why didn't you leave before you closed it?!" Ford yells, voice cracking and face flushing in both anger and embarrassment.
"I was just traumatized, I'm not thinking straight!" Stan yells back, before quickly opening the door, running out of it, and slamming it shut.
Ford's hackles are still raised and he's still desperately covering his no-no bits after he hears Stan's footsteps rapidly retreat.
He's just starting to calm down when through the door he hears
"Okay, this was bugging me, were you checking out your own ass when I walked in?"
this is a fic preview that doesn’t really show much I just really like these twos Dumb Sibling Banter okay
"So you won't be getting home until late?" Stan asks from where he was lounging on his bed, watching his brother gather things and place them in his messenger bag.
"Mhm," Ford hummed, picking up a notepad "Probably not until 10."
Stan's eyes widened. "Mom and Pa are letting you stay out that long?"
Ford let out a nervous bark of laughter, looking over his shoulder to flash his brother one of his rare mischievous smiles. "They went out tonight. I'll be back before they are."
"Oooooo," Stan teased, eyebrow raising and a smirk on his lips "troublemakeeeeerrr."
"Yeah, yeah" Ford waved him off as he slung his bag over his shoulder, turning fully to Stan with a teasing smile of his own "You're one to talk."
"Hey, people expect trouble making from me," Stan put his hands behind his head and layed back, wiggling his eyebrows "It's my signature."
"Well, I hope you don't mind me forging your signature tonight." Ford shoots back, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "You can't be the only one breaking rules, it'll make me look bad."
"Poindexter, you're sneaking into a physics lesson. I'm not the one making y-"
"Ah!" Ford raised a finger, halting Stan's words, an excited, toothy smile on his face "I'm sneaking into a college leveled physics lesson!"
Stan couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes "Yup. You're a real bad boy. Don't hurt yourself with all those rules you're breaking tonight."
Ford rolled his eyes before reaching up and pulling his pillow off the top bunk. Stanley yelped when he felt the soft thing plop onto his face, laughing as he sat up and it fell to his lap. The twins exchanged one last smile before Ford headed for the door.
"Seeya later, rule breaker!" Stan called loudly once Ford was out the door.
"That's Mr. Rule Breaker to you!" Ford called back, voice already faint from across the house.
Stan listened to his brothers footsteps going down the steps, across the living room, and out the door as best he could. As soon as he heard the bell hanging over the front door jingle, he knew Ford was out.
Stan huffed. The whole house to himself. That was a first.
