#ptpc post

After the reveal and the long conversation that followed, the two brothers had made it to Ford's livingroom and practically collapsed onto the couch.

Stan was drifting off, thinking about how he'd maybe go about asking for food. Well. Hm. Maybe Ford would just let him take some.

Wait. ...Does Ford even have food?

He was just about to start thinking about that, mentally trying to take stock of what he remembered of Ford's kitchen without getting up to actually check.

That was when his attention was drawn out of his thoughts, as Ford cleared his throat quietly.

"Stanley. Does this mean you can..." Ford trailed off, raising his hands from his lap. He didn't seem to notice they were just barely trembling.

Stan glanced at Ford's eyes. Oh. Fuck. A brief thought of attempting to lie to his brother formed, but.... no. He- just couldn't. Not about this.

He bit his lip. Nodded.

"Yeah, I can," he whispered, and his fingers went from ten to twelve as he lifted them towards his brother's. It was seamless. Practiced.

He chanced another look at Ford, who was clearly torn between staring at his hands or his face.

"You've-" done this before, went unsaid. Ford's bottom lip trembled.

There wasn't even a full thought to the movement. Stan's fingers brushed Ford's, and suddenly they were intertwined. Twelve with twelve.

"Stanley," Ford warbled. His grip was tight. "I'm- I'm so s-sorry. I didn't believe you, I c- I-"

Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he gasped for air.

"Moses. Hey, hey, Poindexter, it's okay. I get it," Stan murmured, thumbs rubbing along Ford's skin.

"C'mere," he tugged gently, and Ford followed, into his lap, burying his face in Stan's shoulder.

One of Ford's hands escaped the hold and his arm snaked around Stan's back, grasping desperately, just as the other held onto his brother's hand.

Stan, perhaps a little selfishly, pressed a kiss to the top of his brother's head, and continued to reassure him. It wasn't his fault, and Stan had never blamed him. He'd been hurt when those curtains shut, no shit, but he was here now. Figured that was the most important thing.

Thankfully, it seemed like Ford was beginning to calm down a little. He sniffled and shifted his head, nosing into Stan's neck.

"Sorry," he croaked.

"What, for getting my shirt wet? It's okay, Ford. I'm serious."

Ford let out a shaky breath, relaxing into Stan's hold. "I still... I wish it would've gone differently."

"Even if you did make a time machine to make that happen, why would you need to, huh? Hard part is over with. No reason to do it all over again in a different way."

His brother mulled over it, and Stan began to gently stroke up and down his back.

"Right," Ford murmured. "I just- I..."

"...I missed you," he finished.

Stan was not going to cry. He wasn't.

"Fuck. I- yeah. I missed you too," he sniffled, and pressed a kiss to Ford's forehead.

--

"You remember when.. we were really little, we'd just made the first Fort 'o Stan, technically, and I showed you- I showed you the six fingers?" Stan murmured.

"....Yes," Ford replied sleepily, head shifting where it laid on Stan's chest. "I had always thought I had made it up, in my head. And all the instances after. I always thought you'd been joking, but..." he yawned, "you were telling the truth, because..."

"Because I thought you knew," Stan huffed out a laugh. "Not sure how I messed that up."

"It was.. was on both of us," Ford murmured, cuddling ever closer.

Stan hummed. "Yeah, I guess. It is kinda funny it took you so long to know you'd been living with one of your anomalies since you were born, though. I thought you had some kinda nerdy internal, uh, weirdness radar."

"...You were my first anomaly," Ford said, suddenly more awake than he'd been in the last thirty minutes.

"Huh. I guess I kinda was. The blueprint, eh?"

Ford smiled, leaning up to kiss at his chin and neck. "You're.. my original inspiration. My muse."

"Alright, no need to butter me up that much," Stan muttered, heat rising to his face. "Go to sleep already, will ya? Otherwise at this rate I'm gonna burst into flames or something."

Ford chuckled lowly, but acquiesced and returned to his spot, head on his brother's chest, arms wrapped around him comfortably.