#dadford

"Who are you?"

Three words that managed to take the form of a dagger and stab you right in the heart. You stopped dead in your tracks-- the breath in your chest never seeming to be relieved. It escaped in uneven bumps and a quiet gasp. You could barely process Stan grabbing Ford by the shoulders, shaking him, yelling at him. The kids rushed to Stan, and the stranger they'd yet to be introduced to, in hopes of ending the aggressive exchange.

A slow and gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder. You looked at Soos, who held a pitiful expression. Ford and Stan had stopped fighting-- the prior having slowly walked to you. You stared at him and expressed the pain caused by his question in your face. The tears of joy had quickly become tears of grief.

"I-- I'm sorry, [Y/N]," an apology-- but not a nickname of the many he'd assigned to you as a child. "I didn't realise-- you've grown up so much. For a moment, I forgot I wouldn't be coming back to my little kid,"

That was enough for you. You wanted to throw your hands at him and embrace him until he felt the lack of breath you'd been feeling. You twitched to move-- but stopped and stared down at his hand, which was extended for a shaking.

"Wh--?" You breathed out.

"--It's-- it's nice to see you again," Ford stated. "I hope we can rebuild our... relationship,"

That handshake invaded your mind. Escaping the basement-- the warmth of the shake slowly escaped your skin. Taking the kids to bed while Ford and Stan discussed the plan for the summer-- pins and needles repeatedly stabbed your hand and flexed your fingers. You wiped your hand on your pants, hoping to remove the experience.

"[Y/N]," Dipper broke the trance, "are you okay? You look... really, really distracted,"

"Huh? What makes you say that?" You tried to play it off.

"You walked us to the other side of the shack instead of the attic," Dipper pointed out.

"Oh,"

"Oh my gosh!" Mabel exclaimed. "You're our cousin! I just realised! This is so awesome!"

You chuckled. "Yeah-- I guess, now, there's no use in keepin' the cat in the bag,"

You redirected the kids and focused on getting them to their room. "It's official now," Mabel began, "you're the coolest cousin ever, [Y/N],"

"Well, you guys are my favourite cousins," you said. "Say, ah, could you two get yourself to bed? I-- I want to, uh--,"

"--We understand," Dipper interrupted. "We'll get ourselves to the attic,"

You smiled at the two and they returned it before rushing off to the steps of their room. You take a deep breath and begin to slowly walk towards Ford's old room-- well, suppose it was going to be re-established as his room again.

You stopped and watched as Stan stormed out. His face was contorted with anger for a moment before his eyes landed on you. He relaxed and sighed.

"S-sorry kid," he stated. "Me n' Sixer pro'lly won't get along, ever. But, we're brothers! That sort'a thing always happens." He placed his hands on your shoulders. "Don't stress too much, you're his kid. You got this,"

You took in a deep and shaky breath. "Wh-- what if he doesn' want nothin' to do with me?" You began to cry. "I'm his kid, but I'm not a kid any more. What sort'a bonding are we s'posed to do!"

"Hey! What did I just say?" Stan stared at you sternly. "Don't stress it! You two will find a way-- you have to!"

You sniffled and wiped your tears on your shirt. "You're right," you croak. "Okay. You can go back to being grumpy-- this emotional stuff is freakin' me out," you joked.

Stan smiled and chuckled. "Don't gotta tell me twice!"

You two parted ways. You took in a more steady and confident breath of air before appearing in the doorway of Ford's room. You made eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. He paused his movements to process you before he turned awkwardly to properly face you.

"[Y/N]," his volume was low. "H--uh, how.. are you-- how are you doing?"

You lock your hands behind your back and take careful steps into the room. "I-- I am, okay," you respond. "How are... you?"

"I've been worse," Ford chuckled. "I'm not stuck fighting for my life in another dimension-- so, that's a plus,"

"Cool, cool." You bob your head. "Uh-- well, th--this is--? This is weird, right?"

Ford smiled and approached you. "Ah, yes, I was hoping you'd say something," you almost felt relieved with his words. "It's been such a-- a long time since we've seen each other. I've missed... everything,"

"Right! So-- so we should--!"

"--I will make it up to you!"

You froze in place. Your eyes darted around a moment. "What?"

"Holidays, birthdays, life events," Ford listed happily. "How old are you?"

"Uh--? I-I'm 38-- why--?"

"Well, the numbers for the cake of course!" Ford laughed, turning back to the mirror. "We'll celebrate what we missed-- when I have time, of course,"

"Ah--?" The words were still stewing. "Y-ya'know I-- I was thinkin' maybe we could just... what do you mean, when you have time?"

"There's a lot of clean-up to be done since the portal was re-opened," Ford explained. "Not just the pieces of the portal in the basement-- but the fabrics of reality!"

"W-Well, okay, yeah-- I knew there'd be, ah, consequences with the whole portal thing," you tried to be understanding. "But-- but, I don't think we need to celebrate anythin'-- can we just, talk?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" This time the words cut you right in the throat. The immediate aggressive response that came to mind never made it to tongue. "How are we supposed to bond over a simple meeting? Trust me, [Y/N], we'll be father-child bonding in no time!"

Rather than blood spill from your throat, everything you wanted to say went to the floor. You stared at his reflection in the mirror, jaw-dropped. He was still wearing his cheery smile while adjusting his jacket and turtleneck. Your hands had brought themselves forward and your fingers twisted into one another.

"Sure." You croak and turned away.

You found yourself fleeing the room. Quick steps dragging the rest of you out of there like there was an immediate danger to be avoided. Your thoughts raced through your mind in a similar manner. Every way that interaction could have gone-- everything you could have said-- everything you didn't say-- and worse of all; everything he didn't say.

A million questions were asked in your mind while you jammed your fingers into the vending machine keypad. Each step answered a question but left a thousand more in its wake.

You released a deep breath as you fell down onto your hammock bed. Every thought and question stored and thrown around your mind was released with that breath. A silence only broken by the ringing in your own ear.

You brought your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around your knees. As far as anyone knew, the silence in the basement was never disturbed. Not by the loud creaking of the vending machine door, not by the loud steps being used, not by the sound of the hammock nor the deep sigh, and certainly not by the sounds of suppressed sobs.

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