A/N: was looking through my old writing, saw this wip for an original piece, then decided to stick the older Pines siblings into it.
I'll come up a name for this au eventually....maybe-
-/-
"S...s'ford??" Shermie hesitantly took a step towards the shadowy figure who immediately melted back into the dark abandoned building. He leaped up and gave chase, hand stretched out for [maybe?] his older brother.
"Stanford, wait!" Glass crunched underneath Shermie's feet, digging into his already falling apart runners. He didn't care though.
If that was ...if it really were his brother...
"Ford! Standford please! Shermie wailed, choking on a hiccup that bordered on a sob.
He forced the aching muscles in his legs to keep running, keep chasing-don't lose him, don't lose him, don't lose him-
"Ford! Shermie called out once more as he struggled to catch up with what he assumed was his brother.
Days of no sleep and too little food blurred his vision, his lungs ached, chest heaving. Shermie's paper thin soles did little to prevent pinpricks of pain from the now forgotten glass shards he'd run over.
He wanted his brother.
Shermie wanted his big brother.
The dizzyness caught up to him. Shermie tripped, fell, more glass shards but he didn't care, he lost Ford, he was tired and hungery and alone and-
"I don't want to be alone again!" Shermie cried out, tears finally pushing their way past his eyes and landing on the shalllow cuts on the back of his hands. Shermie cried harder at the salt of his tears igniting small bursts of pain where they landed.
He needed Ford- needed his big brother, the only big brother he had left. Shermie needed to hear his laughter and scolding, needed his surprisibgly warm hugs (not as warm as Lee's but Lee was gone and all he had was Ford and Ma and-]) and nerdy rambling, Ford's presence that always calmed Shermie down back in that house that wasn't a home.
He needed- needed- he needed-
Arms scooped him up and pressed him against someones chest. A hand slapped itself over his mouth. Six fingers.
"Not a word." The figure hissed, keeping them pressed against the wall. The floor rumbled, shelves toppled over. Shermie could hear the persons racing heart rate match his own, their pulse thundering loudly in tandem with Shermie's..
Seconds passed...minutes...
The figure shifted, moving Shermie to stand behind them while they peeked out from the rubble they had hidden them behind. Shermie stared at the arm held out in front of him.
He wanted to cry.
He knew, he knew this was his big brother. The build, the voice, the sixth finger, it was all his big brother but he no longer looked like the brother he remembered.
But he still felt like his brother.
The brother who'd always bandage Stan up after Crampelted decided the youngest Pines was more fun to pick on than his older twins.
The brother who, along with Stan, shielded Shermie the best they could from their parents (Shermie loved ma, he really did but when she was with pa...) wrath and spoiled him with shoplifted sweets (courtesy of Stan) and comics saved from the trash heap (courtesy of Ford).
This was the brother who once promised Shermie the Pine's brothers were inseperable.
Then that night happened.
Stan was gone.
Ford refused to say anything. He went off to Backups more the next day.
And Shermie was alone.
Until he ran away, unable to take the yelling and coldness anymore, unable to handle ma and pas volatile mood swings, he left just like his brothers and Shermie must be one lucky son of a gun to have come across Ford.
"S...S'Ford."
"You shouldn't be here." His older brother hissed in a low voice, gently, yet firmly steering Shermie towards what looked like an exit.
Shermies tongue felt like a lead balloon. So many questions and emotions-relief, panic, anger, his mind swirled together into a chaotic cocktail of fury at being abandoned and relief at seeing one of his safe people again.
"Ford what's,"
"Hurry, we don't have much time-"
"It's too late, Sixer." Shermie froze in his tracks.
No way.
No. Fucking way.
"Lee-"
"They've already seen him. Door's a no go."
Stanford's head whipped over to the door. Shermie heard him mumble a few curses, then pushed him over towards....towards...
"Lee lee?"
Despite the eyepatch, the stump where a leg used to be, and...and something...wrong that Shermie couldn't possibly name the man still looked like his big brother Stanley. His Lee lee, the protector and muscle to Ford's barbed and quick tongue.
A small smile twitched the edge of Stan's mouth.
"Hiya, Sher-bear."
