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He organizes the contents of his research. Exhaustion starts to set in, now is a good time to wrap up for the night. He rather pass out in bed and not sleep in a nest of notes and books, though it’s not bad once in a while.
How long has he been up? It has to be a couple of hours.
It’s midnight?
He closes his eyes briefly, eventually slowly getting up from his seat.
His body lethargic. He should get some good sleep for once. He’s getting easily fatigued in the day lately, not a good thing for researching or investigating.
The kids should be in bed unless Dipper and his own brother are participating in nocturnal activities.
“Kids, Stanley?”
He calls for them, wandering the shack.
A low growl can be heard.
“Stan?”
The growl answers back.
Ford sighs. A tired smile forms on his lips.
“Stanley, it’s my room. I can kick you out.”
The snarl evolves to a furious bark.
Ford swings his bedroom door open; of course, the elderly werewolf is curled up on his floor. With a mess of a blanket piled next to him.
Ford shakes his head, humored. He approaches and kneels to the wolf as his hand reaches for the blanket.
“Cover yourself better if you’re sleeping here.”
Stan snarls, baring his fangs. He snaps his jaws but he does not lunge for his brother’s hand.
Ford barely flinches, only giving his cursed twin a disappointed frown.
“Stanley I have no idea what you want! Growling doesn’t say very much to me, if you wish to speak to me, give me something more I can work with!”
He put a clawed hand over Ford’s mouth; he can read the wolf’s irritated eyes.
He removes his hand, and the werewolf noses the blanket away from himself rather carefully, lightly touching it as if he’s avoiding or reluctant of it.
Ford now understands.
He gives a soft whine as his muzzle points down to the sleeping figures.
Arms of his great-niece are wrapped around her own cursed twin's shaggy neck, close to her like a stuffed animal.
The younger werewolf lies by her protectively, his snout on her shoulder. His paws twitching as he sleeps. Both lying close to Stan as if they’re his own kids; the twins stay glued to each other.
The old beast appears uneasy, eyeing the blanket. He makes a small nip at it, making little effort to lean further to reach the thing.
Ford understands the intention, covering the twins again though leaving the heads exposed this time.
“Oh, I see now. Am I to believe you haven’t left this spot since they fell unconscious?”
The beast gives a single nod.
“Don’t want to wake them, if I’m correct.”
He gives another nod with a snort.
Stanford smiles in return, scratching the beast’s right ear. A softer growl comes from Stan, closing his eyes, his tail sweeping the floor. He trails off with a whine, the creature smiling. The wolf places his head back on the floor, lying close to the kids. A deep, relaxed whine emits, his tired eyes on them. He sighs through his nose, his left ear flicking. He rubs his snout against Mabel and plops his head back on the floor, eyes going to his brother.
Ford lifts the werewolf’s face with both hands, rubbing his thumbs against the furry face.
“You can stay, but I’ll set up an alarm to go off an hour before sunrise. You can’t complain about it, you know very well why; I’ll move the kids to their beds after it goes off.”
The wolf twin gives him a blank stare.
“Of course technically, Mabel is the one who will be moved; Dipper will be awake and find somewhere to change back in privacy. I’ll grab your clothes so you’ll both be ready for the reversion.”
Stan’s right eyebrow slightly rises, letting out a grunt that gives Ford the impression that Stanley is being sarcastic with him.
He narrows his eyes.
“’Yeah sure, I get it poindexter.’ That’s what you’re saying aren’t you?”
The werewolf Stan moves his head away in a surprised manner, his ears flat.
Ford chuckles and reaches for his neck, stroking it, yet the wolf keeps his disturbed expression.
“You’re mostly predictable, that’s why.”
He snarls.
“Wake Mabel up if you have a complaint then, I still don’t understand the language of wolves.” Ford smirks.
The werewolf appears to mutter to himself as he gives a low growl-whine; his brows narrow.
Ford’s mind immediately goes to the idea that Stan is probably giving him a sarcastic remark or insult.
At least that's one plus. He doesn't have to hear Stan’s verbal tomfoolery for a bit.