I don't have the spoons to write full fics right now but I do have enough to write little ficlits.
"I have a feeling" Smooch. "That you're not." Smooch. "Listening to me." Smooch.
"Why would I do that when you have such a kissable face?" Stan planted another nosy kiss to Ford's temple. His large hands held Ford's face firmly, tilting it which way he needed to give Ford another kiss.
"Stanley, please," Ford whined. They needed to go over their errand list before going to resupply but Stan was making it rather impossible to think. "We need to do this." Smooch.
"We got time, Sixer. No need to worry. Now be quiet, I'm not done yet." Three sequent kisses glided across Ford's forehead. Stan pushed his hands closer on Ford's face, smooshing his cheeks, lips and glasses. His cheeks glowed a soft pink.
Giving up, Ford wrapped his arms around Stan and surrendered to the onslaught of kisses and coos. Stan ambled his way into Ford's lap, effectively holding Ford in place with his weight. Ford's hands trailed over and under Stan's shirt wanting to get as close as possible to him.
As quickly as the kisses begun, they ended.
"Shake a leg, Sixer. We got day light burning and the shopping won't get done on it's own." From his back pocket, Stan pulled out a list of errands and needs for the boat. He gently tapped the paper to Ford's head before leaving him high and dry in their galley.
"Wait! Damn it, Stanley!" Ford followed Stan out of the ship, hurrying by every mirror on board. On deck, Stan stood smug. His eyes roamed over Ford's face and next and stopped once he met his eyes.
"Looking good, tiger." With a wink, Stan took the gangplank down to the pier just as Ford leaned over the ship to look into the water. In the reflection, a red lipstick kissed face met him back.
"Stanley, I can hear you brooding from inside the shower. What's wrong?" A layer of vinyl separated the two in the rented bathroom. The hotel room for the weekend was cramped and out dated but conveniently placed for their event tomorrow.
Stan stood at the sink, brushing his dentures before putting them in his cup to soak overnight. He ripped open a packet of Efferdent and dropped it in, watching the bubbles fizz around the set.
"I'm not brooding," Stan mumbled.
"You are. What is it?" Ford heard nothing for a moment then the lid of the toilet close. Stan's voice was much closer than before, right behind the curtain.
Dipper and Mabel's high school graduation card sat comfortably in their luggage dated for tomorrow. The two graduates, tall and proud, exhibiting so many familiar mature Pines traits.
"It's just." Stan sighed, rubbing his eyes. "How did they get so old?"
Ford snaked a hand out of the curtain and took Stan's hand in his own. Stan kissed his knuckles in reflex, smelling the clean cheap hotel soap on his skin.
"Probably the same way we did, Stan. But it's different for them because they have each other, just like we do. It's going to be ok."
Stan held Ford's hand a little longer, counting his fingers and roaming over his sunspots. 5 years went and gone like the wind and yet here they still were. Together. Stan smiled softly and squeezed his hand.
"Storms rolling in. Radio says it's going to last the whole night." Stan's thumb traced over the outer shell of Ford's ear. A roll of thunder vibrated throughout the night, illuminating the turbulent sea just out their window. The cave they found offered them calmer waters to anchor and settle into the night.
Ford didn't answer. Ford hadn't said a word since the storm started.
"You think this used to be an old pirates cave? With buried treasure and a bunch of haunted skeletons?" Stan adjusted the blanket around them, tucking Ford in around the quilt. Stan tried to not jostle them too much and disturb the peace that hung heavy around them.
"If I remember correctly, I think we're only an hour away from port. When this is over, we can sail there and restock. Doesn't look like too much was lost but I did lose the last of my hooks. We'll have to find an angler store. Unless you're tired of all the cod sandwiches we keep eating." Stan chuckled at his own joke. His finger threaded in Ford's wet hair, grounding himself to the now.
Strong arms tightened around Stan, a keening sound accompanying it.
A sob broke out and Ford buried his face in Stan's chest.
"Baby, it's ok. Shh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Do not EVER do that again, Stanley Pines." Ford gasped hard against Stan's chest, choking on his own spit. With shaking shoulders, Ford clung impossibly tighter to Stan. The pain in Stan's arms was nothing compared to the pain of hearing Ford cry out his name.
Inside their home, the storm raged.
4. Memories (This is based off of @binomii0101 and @bafoonmoon text post about Stan being abused by both parents)
"Stanley?! Stanley, are you in here!? It's Ford! Please come out! It's not safe for you out here! Whatever it was, I can help you!"
Further down the cave in a voice so uncharacteristic to the larger than life man he knew, Ford heard a promising murmur. Quiet, like he was scared to be loud.
"Stanley, is that you, buddy?" Ford's flashlight rocked between the familiar cave walls. Decades ago, a rotting boat sat in the middle of this very same cavern as did two little boys so moved by the promise of adventure did they ignore every safety precaution. The same ones that they once again ignored in the middle of a March night.
A flash of familiar red peaked behind one of the rocks and relief rushed in Ford's veins. After Stan bolted from their childhood home an hour ago, Ford had been running on adrenaline and "just the facts" to find his twin. He walked softly, crouching in the sand near the rock.
"Stanley? It's Stanford, your twin. Are you ok?" Ford saw the beanie shift until it disappeared. Around a jagged corner, a promising glint of Stan's glasses caught the flash light. Old tears mapped down his stubbled cheek until they stopped at a quivering lip.
Ford stopped a few feet away and relaxed his shoulders.
"Hey baby. Hey, it's just me." Ford held up his hand and spread out all 6 fingers. The quiet of the cave only served as an echo chamber. Even his whispering sounded so loud. Recognition in Stan's face flickered after he finished counting.
"Ford?" Stan's voice was tight. Ford smiled, putting his hand down and slowly crawled over to Stan.
"That's right. That right, baby, it's Ford. I'm coming over, is that ok?"
Stan seemed to think on this and Ford paused. It would only serve to send Stan into a further spiral if he stressed him out. A memory lapse like this needed to be handled delicately otherwise they would both be paying the consequences for it later. Stan finally nodded and shifted back behind the rock.
"Alright. Good. I'm coming over." Soon, Ford was behind the boulder with Stan, his flashlight pointing up. Stan was sat in the dark corner of the cave in barely enough layers to fight off the ever present New Jersey chill. Ford unbuttoned his coat and draped it over Stan.
"It's cold out here and you don't have a jacket on." He wrapped the coat around his shoulders and secured Stan's hat over his ears. When Ford sat back down, Stan immediately crawled into Ford's lap.
"Don't make me go back, Sixer," Stan whispered. His shoulders trembled beneath the massive coat. Strange how they joked just that morning how they needed to find new winter coats and here Stan was, looking like he was being swallowed by the thick wool and polyester.
"I won't, Stanley. I won't. I'm sorry I took us there. I shouldn't have done that." Ford held Stan's shoulders until they finally stopped trembling.
"I know. We can go somewhere else, somewhere warm. I'm sure I can find us something good to eat and then we can go to be in our bed. Does that sound good?"
Stan pulled away, fresh tears drying on his skin.
"...Can we lock the door?"
Ford stalled. Their old bedroom door didn't have a lock on it. He remembered for a portion of their childhood they didn't even have a doorknob. Why would Stan want to lock the door? Who would be locking out? As much as Ford wanted to say yes and get them moving, he needed to know. It was in his nature to push for the truth.
"Of course. Who do we need to keep out, buddy? I'll make sure they don't get close."
Stan flexed his fingers in the sand, eyebrows twitching, like he was fighting with himself to answer. He turned his eyes down toward the crushed shells and basalt sand. He crushed a clump of hard sand in his hand.
Ford strained his ears to hear Stan.
"Mmm. Yeah, we don't want them to come barging in, do we?"
Stan shook his head, fresh tears running down.
"...They don't let me sleep." Stan wiped his face of tears, anger replacing shame. "They don't let me sleep!" Stan's hands clutched the sand tighter until it burned in his palms. "I just want to sleep and they never let me sleep! Pa won't let me sleep! Ma keeps waking me up! I just want to sleep! Why can't they just let me sleep?! Why can't they just leave me alone!"
6 fingers graced over his knuckles, releasing him from his rage, replacing it with an age old exhaustion. One that no sleep could extinguish. Stan looked up suddenly so old and so young.
"I want to go to sleep, Ford."
"Ok, baby," Ford said, holding back his own frantic questions. Now was not the time. Later. Or maybe never. But not now. "I'll keep the door locked. Lets go home." Stan smiled and held back Ford's hand. Easing Stan up, they walked out of the cave hand in hand.
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