stangst - i got people in my skin
【 A/N: i was meaning to write something for forduary but never gotten around to it. as a ford pines simp i am ashamed. apologies apologies. hopefully this one shot will make up for it. started as mostly a vent but ended up way longer than i had intended.
TW below the cut for self harm, self loathing and general stangst. mind those tags and stay safe out there. title is from in the wings by mother mother b/c stan has those mother mother vibes.
CROSS-POSTED TO AO3! 】
STAN WATCHES the deceptively tiny flame in his hand. He watches as it dances and flickers in bright hues of yellow and orange and he can hear his mother's words in his head. 'My little spark of light' as she would call him back then. Burning brightly despite the darks of the world around him. A fighter. A protector.
But that night, huddled in his beaten old car around the tiny flame of his lighter whilst the blizzard outside continued it's merciless rampage, those words couldn't have felt farther from the truth. Whatever fire burned in Stanley Pines now felt more like dying embers, desperately trying to fight for any sort of spark.
And Stanley was so, so tired of fighting. And nobody was there to protect him.
As the winds and snow wrought all hell outside his Diablo, so to did Stan's mind seem keen on attacking him. Memories of painfully familiar beaches, days of rebuilding broken down boats and sunburns and nights of reading comics under the flashlight. Memories of laughter with someone who he'd thought would be by his side forever. Memories that used to be filled with happiness, now only tinged with a deep sense of longing for moments long lost to time.
Nights like those where he would have given everything just to see his brother one last time. To have his brother tell him that he missed him. That his time on the streets fighting for scraps was over. That his home was by his side.
'But who would want some worthless screw up like you around?'
These thought would hit him like knives directly in the chest.
'Face it, Stanley Pines is nothing but a leech. Ford knew the truth, it's why he wanted to get away from you.'
His free hand grips the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, chest heaving and throat tight with emotion the owner dare not release. 'Men don't cry' a voice sounding like his father reminds him. But the sea of emotions inside him only rages harder. A mix of anger and sorrow and a gnawing sort of loneliness that threaten to swallow him whole.
Like many times before, he would turn to the flame of his lighter. The sting of the hot metal against the skin of his arm would distract him from everything wrong with his life, albeit temporarily, as a new burn mark begins to set in among the ever growing collection.
Stanley couldn't help but look at them with a twisted sense of accomplishment. The pale marks on his arm feeling almost like a strange proof of everything he was going through. That the pain he was in was real.
Feeling a comfortable numbness set in, he lets himself drift into an uneasy rest. For a moment everything causing him pain seemed pleasantly distant. Even the roar of the blizzard just outside the car seemed to fade into darkness as sleep took hold.
✲ ✲ ✲
HIS SELF-DESTRUCTIVE coping mechanism would be something that stayed with him for a while. A release he'd turn to every so often during his days living like a stray. Until one day he gets a post card from someone he'd never thought he would hear from again and just like that he's making tracks to some nowhere town called Gravity Falls with barely more than his car and the clothes on his back and a feeling in his heart that almost resembles hope.
Somehow things take a turn even worse than he could've imagined. It's as if the universe took a look at Stan's worst fears and decided to top them and his brother's now empty home feels even colder than his car had.
The still stinging burn on his back feels like punishment. A reminder that Stanley Pines was worth nothing and this is what happened when he tried to believe otherwise. Stanley Pines would soon after meet his untimely fate in a car crash, with nothing left of his life but a smoldering wreck of metal.
At least as far as the rest of the world was concerned.
Meanwhile, the man known now as Stanford Pines attends a funeral in a suit that wasn't his, trying to ignore the way the foreign fabric itches against his growing amount of scars.
Some of them from his habit. Others were from his time working on the portal as he often did so with very little concern for himself.
As the years pass something begins to change. His false persona in Mr Mystery becomes less of a means to an end and slowly becomes something that he enjoyed. Something that he was good at. Along the way he meets the naive yet kind to a fault Soos Ramirez and the rebellious red-head Wendy Curdoroy. He tells himself they were just employees yet their presence in his life brings something different. A spark of light in an otherwise cold heart. A spark that later on becomes a flame when one summer he finds himself with the care of Shermie's grandchildren. Two brown haired twins that fill Stan with an almost painful sense of nostalgia that somehow worm their way into his heart in no time at all.
Without thinking about it, his habit slowly starts to lessen over these years until that summer when it stops. And while he never shakes the sense of longing for his own twin and wherever he may be, for the first time in his life since Glass Shard Beach the con man feels a sense of belonging somewhere. He had a home and people who cared about him.
But that was Stanford Pines. Stanley Pines didn't belong anywhere. And like life enjoys reminding Stanley, all good things must come to an end.
✲ ✲ ✲
IT FELT like a dream. After decades of toiling away in the shadows of the basement on a thin hope of fixing his mistakes, the moment of actually seeing his twin there in the glow of the portal felt almost too good to be true.
But, somehow, it was real. His brother, despite being much older as he himself was and dressed in some Mad Max-esque outfit, was back. Against all odds, Stanley Pines had managed to do at least one good thing in his life.
And Ford hated him.
He thinks to himself, bitterly, that of course he would. He may have brought Ford back but that didn't change all the wrong he had done to him, including pushing him into the portal in the first place. But even knowing this didn't make the sting of it all hurt any less.
And now, lying in his bed and failing to fall asleep, it seems like the adrenaline of everything that had happened that day was starting to wear off and the abuse he put on his old bones during it all had begun to make themselves known. He almost wanted to list all the places that hurt but he figured it'd be easier to list what didn't hurt.
He sighs as he raises a hand to his cheek. That was definitely going to be a nice bruise later on, and while it didn't hurt as much as the rest of his body it still managed to be the most painful thing that happened today.
In hindsight he didn't know why he assumed that would have gone any better, yet in the moment it felt all to natural to try and hug Ford. Like an old instinct buried deep within, the need to make sure his brother wasn't hurt. But instead he got a six fingered fist to the face.
And to top it all of he was going to lose everything once summer's over. The place he'd come to call home would be taken from him. And the kids... even if living on the streets again didn't do him in he'd doubt that their parents would let him anywhere near him once they learned the truth of who he was.
Soon there won't be any Mr Mystery, just Stanley Pines again. The man who had destroyed his brother's future. The man who destroyed his family. The man who pushed his brother into a portal. The man who had lied to everyone, who took his brother's identity and staged a ruse three decades running.
'The man who should have died back in that car crash.' A dark voice whispers in his mind.
Suddenly he finds himself feeling very small. No longer a man with a home and a family, he feels like he's the abandoned teen from the night it all went wrong. The first night of many where he'd spent huddled in his car. Unwanted. Unloved. And utterly alone.
Moving on autopilot, his hands begin to rummage through his bedside dresser until they clasp around an all too familiar object. Buried underneath other knick knacks and papers. Unused.
'Looks like old habits die hard.' He thinks with a pained smile.
It feels wrong doing this again. 'What would the kids think?' his mind chides him. But he knows that soon enough none of it will matter anyway.
The white hot sting of the lighter feels like an old friend.
✲ ✲ ✲
'You punched him. Your brother spend years of his life trying to save you and that's how you repay him.'
'He put the whole world in jeapordy doing so. It was stupid and reckless, did that knucklehead not read any of the warnings I left him?'
'If he hadn't then you wouldn't be here now.'
'Well maybe it would've been for the best. Saving me isn't worth putting the universe in danger.'
'Obviously Stan didn't agree.'
Ford put his head in his hands in exasperation. This mental back and forth had been going on for the past hour or so he'd been trying to spend dismantling what was left of the portal. It had started when, while taking apart the scattered pieces, he couldn't help but admire just how well put toegther they were for having been made by a single man with, presumably, little more engineering experience than fixing his car.
He tried to shake it off. Impressive or not didn't change the fact that he had endangered the whole world by doing so. And while punching him may have been overkill, Stan's reckless behavior just infuriated him to no end. It seemed like the past few decades had done nothing to change that about him.
And yet try as he might to focus on the task at hand there was that nagging feeling that had attached itself to Ford and refused to let go. Guilt. And no amount of trying to convince himself that he was in the right seemed to chase it away, his mind continuing to wander to the last conversation they had. To how just as he finished explaining the terms of their arrangement he saw a flicker of something in his twin's face before Stan had told him to stay away from the kids.
Ford didn't pride himself as someone who was well-versed in reading the emotions of others but his twin had suddenly looked small. Scared even? Whatever it was, it felt wrong to see on the face of his usually strong and fiery brother.
He supposed he didn't really know this version of his brother at all. Gone was the sun burnt youth from their childhood, replaced by this grey haired man who looked far too much like their father for either of their comfort, the old fez and suit not helping. They were twins and yet with the years of anger and strain they might as well be strangers. 'When did we become old men?' indeed.
And as much as he tried to hold onto the anger over the years, and stars did he try, there was always that part of Ford that missed his twin. The same part that insisted on keeping the photograph all those years. And though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he truly was glad to see Stan again.
'So glad that you're going to take his home away.' His brain chided.
He wasn't wrong for wanting his life back. And taking his house back didn't mean Stan had to leave.
'But did Stan know that?'
Stan knew he wouldn't kick him out... right?
'Have you given him any reason to?'
Stanley knew he would never do what...
'What your father did?'
Ford pulled his overcoat closer, suddenly feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the basement crawl up his spine. And with a sigh he knew that the only way to put these thoughts to rest would be to talk to his brother again.
'Right, like that went so well last time.'
Decidedly ignoring that last thought, he left the dank basement and entered the warmth of the shack. Trying to shake off the surreal feeling of seeing what Stan had done to his home, he quietly made his way to his brother's room. A soft light spilling out from underneath the door told him that the occupant was probably awake.
'Perhaps I'm not the only one lost in thought.'
"Stan...?" He says after a moment of deliberation. When his only response is silence he pushes forward. "Stanley, I..." Pausing for a moment, Ford realizes that he didn't prepare what to say. "...I know that our conversation earlier didn't go as well as it could've, but..." Understatement of the century. "...for the sake of the children, we should at least try and be friendly towards one another."
A beat of silence passes and he can hear a scoff on the other side of the door.
"Stan, are you even listening to me?" A feeling of indignation is quickly replacing Ford's guilt. To think that he came all this way to try and fix things and his brother didn't even have the decency to respond!
Acting on frustration, the scientist pulls open the door with the intention of scolding his brother. Once he sees the state of his brother any words of annoyance died in his throat.
"Holy shit, Ford, haven't you ever heard of knocking?!" His brother snaps out before turning his back to him. Not in time to stop Ford from seeing the painful looking burns on his arm.
"Stanley! Your arm, how- what happened?!" He sputters out. He almost thought the burns could have been from something in the portal room earlier, but the burns looked fresh. Almost as if they've happened just now...
"The kids aren't around, Ford, you don't have to act like you give a shit." Stan's response, muttered low enough that he had almost missed it, had lacked all of the heat his brother displayed earlier. Only a tired sort of resignation, like all the fight had left him.
Seeing Stan in this state - looking like he's given up - it made Ford's stomach churn with how wrong it was. And yet it feels like he's seen him in a similar state long ago. The words 'some brother you turned out to be' echo in his head.
"You... you don't really believe that, do you?" He finally manages. For once his mind is blank, grappling to find anything to say to make the situation better. His brother let out a hollow sounding chuckle.
"'The first worthwhile thing in your life' you said. Well, I guess you were right. Stanley Pines never did anything worthwhile. His whole life was just him lying and cheating to get by." Ford was stricken by the amount of vehomence in his twin's words. 'Is this how he really sees himself?'
"But don't worry. Once the summer is over you'll get your life back and you'll never have to see your worthless brother ever again just like you want."
Keeping his gaze locked on the floor, the only reaction he could see was his brother's fists shaking at his sides before turning and walking out of the room. Smiling bitterly to himself, he tries to ignore the hurt he feels at his brother leaving.
...Only to be surprised to hear the same footsteps return a few moments later. A glance from the floor reveals Ford standing at his doorway holding a jar of some substance in his hand and some peroxide and the expression of a lost owl. Even more surprising was what he said.
"I never wanted you to leave, Stan." With the caution of someone approaching a startled animal, the scientist comes to sit next to his brother and took a deep breath to steel himself.
"Don't get me wrong, I figured you would probably want to leave once summer was over and I'm not comfortable with you running a mockery-" He coughed into his hand. "-the Mystery Shack in my home. But I wouldn't- I would never just throw you onto the streets!" The words 'unlike father' went unsaid, but the brothers both thought it.
"Why not?" Stan asked softly, looking hopeful but uncertain. "Is it cause I'm just an old, crusty man?"
"Stan, that's not-"
"Or maybe you just want somebody around to do the grunt work. Clean up and dust an' shit. Guess that's the only thing I'd be good fo-"
"It's because you're my brother!" The shout makes Stan halt his rambles, leaving the two in silence before Ford continues. "Even when I was angry with you...even when I wanted nothing to do with you...even when I told myself that I hated you I never being your brother. And not one moment did I ever stop missing you." It takes all his willpower to keep his voice mostly steady as he speaks the truth he had denied to even himself all these years. Even now he can hear a shake enter his voice but he knows he can't stop. Not just for his brother, who was taking in his words like a drowning man to oxygen, but also for himself.
"And while I'm still angry about everything - Westcoast Tech, rebuilding the portal, ignoring my warnings about the dangers - I still love you. Always have. And I'm so...-" He feels Stan's hand on his shoulder as he chokes back a sob threatening to tear it's way from his throat. "so, so sorry that I wasn't there to tell you that when you needed to hear it most."
Just as he felt himself start to choke up, a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight hug. Minutes that could've been hours pass by like that. Ford's shoulders shaking in a silent breakdown while Stan simply held him steady despite tears gathering in his eyes as well.
Once he finally manages to pull himself together it came time to treat the burns on Stan's arms. Opening the jar of what he explained was a highly potent burn cream he'd come across in the multiverse, Ford thought he might've cried again when he saw just how scarred his brother's arms were. Most seemed to be similar looking burn marks, albeit most looking older, but there were some that looked like cuts or road burns.
"Stan, are these burns self inflicted...?" 'Please don't let it be true.' he thinks, but Stan looking away is all the answer he needs.
Forcing away the guilt that threatens to eat him up, Ford focuses his efforts on treating the fresher burns on his twin's skin.
It seemed like he wasn't the only one feeling guilty, either. Stan hadn't seen his brother cry since they were young and hated to be the reason why.
"I'm sorry." His twin's words make Ford look up from his work, eyebrows drawn in concern.
"Stan..." His brother continued on as if not having heard him.
"I'm sorry I fucked up your future, I'm sorry I didn't just tell you what happened. I'm sorry I was so obsessed with that stupid fucking boat that I couldn't see I was holding you back. Pops was ri-"
"Don't." The single word was spoken with barely restrained anger, though this time none of it was directed at Stan. Upon seeing Stan look up with an expression of worry the scientist forced himself to soften his tone. Despite how much he wished he could give a few choice words (and hand gestures) to their late father, right now he needed to be there for his brother. "Don't say things like that about yourself. Please."
A silence settles over as Ford finishes treating his brother's arms. It's not too long until the burns are properly treated, the burn cream already doing its job. He's about to ask his brother how he's feeling when he sees Stan is leaning against the headboard and practically drifting off but looking happy for the first time since their not so great reunion in the basement.
Feeling pretty tired himself after the long and emotional night and seeing the glow of a nearby clock reading 4am, Stanford decides to take his leave.
"Goodnight, Lee." He whispers to his dozing off brother as he leaves.
Both of them knew things weren't perfect. One night wouldn't be enough to heal the decades of wounds between the two of them, but it was a start. Many nights of healing would follow soon after. Having two niblings armed with glitter and notebooks certainly helped.
.｡ ☽ *⋆⍋*⍋*｡*⍋*⍋⋆* ☾ ｡.
