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Stan's in the kitchen, leaning against a counter, phone tucked in the crook of his shoulder as he pours himself a cup of coffee.
"Sure! I'd- we'd love to!" He's still not used to saying we. He'd gotten so used to being alone, but that was no longer the case. He’s got Stanford now. He's elated to have him back, he is, but it also gives him an overwhelmingly surreal feeling he's not sure how to register.
He's had to work through a lot of complex emotions since this summer, especially considering the world almost ending, and while he may not be the best at communicating how he feels he’s just glad he's got his brother again. God it’s good to have him back. And just like calling him from the heavens Ford appears through the doorway, walking into the room. "Morning Stanley." He grabs a cup from the cupboard and pours a glass of coffee for himself. He takes a sip and saunters over, placing a delicate kiss atop Stan's forehead. Stan hums in acknowledgement.
He realizes he's still on the phone and hears a question part way through being asked. "Huh? Next week? Sure! Ford and I are just waiting on a couple of things to show up before setting out on the voyage so we have plenty of time to kill until then."
Ford tilts his head, shooting him an inquisitive look. "Oh no, it's no real problem really!" He assures the person on the other end.
Ford gestures questionably at the device in his hands. Stan just swats the air in front of him. "Okay sounds good, we'll be looking forward to it!" A pause. "Haha, alright. Love you too pumpkin!"
Stan hangs up the phone and Ford finally asks, "What was that all about?"
Stan breathes out heavily. "We have a problem."
~~~
It wasn't that big of a deal the kids wanted to come spend some time with their Grunkles during the holidays. The real problem was Stanley and Stanford both respectively had not celebrated a winter holiday for 40 odd years. Not prepared would be putting it lightly.
~~~
"What are we going to do?" Stan spits out, pacing. "I haven't done this in years. What if they expect some big party and it's just us?" Stan's in a frenzy already.
"If you're so worried, why did you agree to have them come?" Ford asks, apprehensiveness evident in his mannerisms.
"It's the kids. I can't tell them no, and besides, I miss 'em…" Ford watches Stan falter at those words.
He knows how much he misses them, he barely has stopped talking about them since they went back home a few months ago. He finds it adorable really. Stanley's always loved kids, and they've always loved him, even if they took a while to warm up to him.
"I miss them too, Stanley, but I feel a bit out of my element here."
"Same here pal. Who knew those kids would like a couple of old dogs like us enough to come back so soon huh?" Stan chuckles, it's infectious enough it stirs one from Ford as well.
"Yeah, well Dipper and Mabel are pretty special."
There's a short pause but Stan rolls his shoulders and rallies, his confidence returning. "Alright, I may be a tad rusty at this whole tradition and festivities thing, and you might not even remember what a holiday is, but I’ll think of some fun stuff to do with the kids no problem!"
Ford shoots Stan a playfully disapproving look. "Stanley I can assure you I am well aware of our past holiday celebrations together and have even picked up several-,"
"Yeah yeah! I don't want to celebrate any weird alien rituals or magic or whatever." Stan waves off his brother’s words.
"That's perfectly fine, we can go with earth traditions that fit your criteria."
"We're in business then, I’ll come up with some ideas and we’ll all have a fun, memorable year!"
Ford smiles warmly at his brother’s enthusiasm. “I'll be over working on the heater, but if you need help I’m right here.”
“Sure-sure, Sixer, I got this.” Stan returns the smile but as soon as Ford exits the room it drops. What the hell kind of grave did I dig myself now? The pressure of giving the kids and his brother a fun, memorable holiday was already freaking him out. It had been ages since he did any sort of celebration for the holidays, let alone wanting to.
Ford did offer to help him though. No . After being kicked out Stan’s only had himself to rely on, so asking for help still feels foreign to him. Instead he does what he's accustomed to, burying down his fears and worries like many of his complicated emotions and lies to himself like he’s done a million times. I can handle this.
~~~
I can’t handle this. Stan sits on his side of the bed buried underneath several blankets, looking down at the list of crossed off “ideas”. It's freezing, enough he can see his breath as he exhales. He just wants to lay down and stop thinking, but he can't. Traditions .
A few on the list seemed to be promising at first but it being so close to the actual holidays he knew the effort and time it would take to make them happen wasn't possible.
He sighs and brings his hands to his face, feeling worn and frustrated.
A big gust of wind slams into the side of the shack, bringing a chill with it. Stan shivers; glancing out the window he sees the weather reminiscent of the first day he stepped foot in Gravity Falls. It brings back memories of him walking up the front steps out of the bitter cold, the door opening up and seeing Ford for the first time since they were kids, only for it to divulge into their fight, and subsequently losing his brother for the second time in his life.
A wave of guilt washes over him and he feels his eyes beginning to sting when he hears Ford’s footsteps approaching. He panics, rubbing at the couple of tears that managed their way free and shoving his list under the blankets.
Ford comes into their room, stopping at the edge of the bed. He's wearing a long coat but begins to peel off his layers. “Hey..” He smiles warmly.
“Hey yourself.”
“I managed to fix the heater. It was slightly difficult with the ‘ modifications ’ that I see were made while I was gone, but it's working now, we should be noticing a difference soon."
"That's great, I was starting to think I'd freeze to death over here. I'd hate to see the kids meet the same fate." They both share a laugh.
"I was hoping you were still up, would you like some company?” Ford’s words steeped in suggestiveness.
“It’s not even past midnight, ain’t it too early for you to turn in?” Stan mocks playfully.
Ford, fully divested, save for his briefs, slowly crawls up the mattress towards his twin. “Stanley I'd like you to-” Ford’s palm hits the spot where the concealed paper is and he stops, looking down at the interruption. He pulls the blankets back and picks up the list. “What’s this?”
Stan lurches forward snatching it from his hands. “It’s nothing! Just some dumb grocery list.”
"Start a snowball war with the town?" Ford gives him an incredulous look.
"It's a work in progress."
Ford sighs this time. He crawls the rest of the way into bed next to him and holds out his arms. Stan throws the blankets over them both and slides into the welcoming vacancy, wrapping his thick biceps around his twin.
Their combined body heat creates a warm shield around them as they lay in silence. Each of them independently basks in the moment. Ford adjusts and starts carding his fingers through his brother's hair. "We can come up with some simple things together. They don't have to be extravagant you realize?"
"I know, I know. They probably just want to spend ‘quality’ time with us but I was just hoping to do something grand for the kids. They deserve it."
"I understand… Do the kid's parents practice Judaism?"
"How the hell should I know if Shermie passed it down or not?"
"Because Stanley, while I was gone you were actually able to contact our family and keep up with everyone." Ford pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses rising slightly with the movement.
Good one idiot. Stan chastises himself mentally for that one.
"Sorry to not be of help here but I really don't know." He closes his eyes and sighs heavily, visible in the cool air. "I tried staying away as much as possible. I knew I wasn't personally welcome... and to be honest it never felt right pretendin' to be you."
He chances a glance at Ford and his forlorn face stares back at him.
"It was my fault you weren't around so that was my sorta penance. It's fine though, we're past all that so let's just move on."
Ford’s brows furrow and he takes a serious tone. "Stan, since I've been back I've noticed you keep not wanting to talk about these big subjects but I think it'll do us some good to get it out there."
"Yeah, yeah, you're probably right. No... No Poindexter, you are right, but let's save all that mush for when we're crammed together on a boat. That way we can't just walk away mid conversation like some people I know." Stan shoots him an accusatory look.
"I'll have you know I am always open for debate, that is until you become unreasonable."
"Unreasonable? Sixer we may have been separated for years but we both know deep down we're both unreasonable." Ford scoffs, offended, but he knows he can't refute it.
"I suppose at times, yes, we both can be."
Ford pulls Stan in impossibly close, their legs tangling, and it's almost like Ford wants to meld into him. Stan takes a deep breath, relaxing into the warm embrace when he notices how Ford smells. It's a faint but evocative scent he finds comforting. Chemicals, pine soap, and somehow still, the salty ocean. Home. Stan tightens his hold on his twin.
Ford brings his forehead together with Stan's. "I'm here now, Stanley. Neither of us has to be alone anymore. We both have a lot to work through, and that's okay, but we have the rest of our lives to do it, and we can do it together."
"You're right. And I want to do it with you too, together ." Stan moves in for a small kiss to Ford's lips and receives a warm hum.
Ford continues to run his fingers through Stan's hair for some time until they start to feel heavy. He shifts to look at his face and sees he's out. He takes both their glasses and sets them on the side table and pulls the blankets over them, snuggling into the warmth of his love, and closing his eyes.
The last thing to cross his mind is how grateful he is being able to fall asleep with Stan like this before he's drifting off.
~~~
It's early when Stan awakes to an empty bed. He's used to it, Ford is the type to be late to bed and early to rise, but he misses his presence already.
He sits up and notices the pleasantly warm room and remembers Ford had succeeded in fixing the heater. He also notices some shuffling noises coming from down the hall.
He slides out of bed, throwing his robe and slippers on, and heads towards the living room. He peers in and the sight before him causes a husky laugh to erupt from his gut.
"A little help here?" Ford stands awkwardly bent beneath a towering pine tree.
"I don't know Sixer, it looks to me like you got this." He laughs through the words as he walks over and effortlessly yanks the tree upright into the base below.
"Ah, well now that's better." Ford collects himself, brushing off the fallen pine needles on his sweater.
Stan leans in and straightens his crooked glasses. "What's this about?"
"I called the kid's parents this morning and asked what they did for the holidays."
"And?" Stan asks eagerly.
"And the kids celebrate both Christmas and Chanukah.” Ford beams. “Isn’t that fascinating?”
"Wouldn't that have been great to do when we were kids?” He snorts. “Of course, any celebration would've been nice."
"Our Chanukahs were always pretty lackluster… remember that one year pops had us buy our own gifts for each other?"
"Ugh, don't remind me. He still had the gall to haggle with me." Both men chuckle at the memory.
"Yeah well, it's nice to know Shermie broke the cycle." Ford says bluntly.
"It is."
"So what about you?" Ford's looking at him now.
"What about me?"
"I haven't even thought to ask until after talking with the kids, but, have you kept up with any traditions?”
"Oh." Stan feels a sense of panic rush over him, should he tell his brother the truth or lie? He could easily lie, make up something on the spot, he'd probably believe him. But this is Stanford, his brother, and he decides he deserves the truth, no matter how sad or pathetic it must seem. "No.”
Ford senses his hesitancy and places a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay Stanley. For me there wasn't a lot of time I had in a single dimension to celebrate, and even if there was I hadn't felt like celebrating much of anything since being home, save for our birthday that is."
"Yeah I always tried to do something special for our birthday too."
Neither of them brings up that after the portal incident they both independently couldn’t bring themselves to celebrate that first year afterward. Both mentally opting to talk about it on a later day.
“But no, I don’t do anything for the holidays anymore, hence why I was making this such a big deal. After being kicked out there was never much to celebrate even if I wanted to.” Stan casts his gaze down.
"I see. I'm sorry.” Ford pulls Stan into an embrace. “I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. But I am very, truly sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened back then, your last day at home, my actions, or lack of, that whole night, all of it.” Stan grips harder onto his shirt.
“It’s okay Ford. But for what it’s worth I’m sorry too. More than I can probably say.” They hold onto each other, relaxing in their solid company.
~~~
The two men spend the rest of the day periodically decorating the tree with various trinkets gathered from the shack. Ford even finds a string of lights in the attic, courtesy of Mabel, and wraps them around the tree, plugging them in and bringing to life their festively cobbled masterpiece.
"Now this is beautiful." Stan beams, gesturing to their handiwork.
"It sure is, we did good." Ford reiterates happily.
"Yeah, and the kids will be here in a couple of days, everything’s perfect… Well, not yet."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean when I was trying to come up with stuff for the kids I came across something for us, a tradition of our own.” Stan smiles triumphantly.
“You did? What is it?” Ford asks, curiosity peaked.
Stan holds out his hand. “Would you care for a dance?”
“Really?” Ford’s surprised, pleasantly so.
“It was the first thing I thought of. It just came to me and I knew that’s what I wanted to do, with you. If you’ll have me?”
“Oh, Stanley, of course.” Ford takes his hand and Stan pulls him in close.
They both easily fall in place, moving their bodies back and forth, following a rhythm to an inaudible sound only they know. Stan pulls Ford close to his chest, and Ford places his hands on his shoulders.
Holding onto one another tightly they sway in the dimly lit room. The twinkling lights are casting soft, beautiful rays around them and their surroundings.
They both hold each other close enough their bodies touch but they can still look into each other's eyes and they do, searching and finding exactly what they need.
They share a small but affectionate kiss. Then another. They go for a third but this time with their mouths parted more. They lap into each other's mouths now like it's the first time. Careful, sweet, but wanting.
Stan moves himself back a little, still holding onto Ford with his lower half flush against his twin.
He looks into Ford’s eyes, full of affection and yearning. “I thought back to you and me, how we got started in all this, our first dance. I knew then this was our tradition” Ford’s cheeks blush a deep crimson as he vividly recalls what became of their High School Prom.
~Glass Shard Beach High School 1969~
Both covered in sticky punch, they take one another's hand and dance behind the bleachers in the dim light of the school gymnasium. They sway together, Stan’s hands on Ford's waist and his own on Stan’s broad shoulders. They shift their bodies to the melody, impossibly close, and perhaps that added to their downfall.
Otis Redding’s voice croons over the echoey loudspeakers. “ These arms of mine, they are yearning. Yearning from wanting you.”
The lyrics hit Ford hard and his grip tightens their place on his brother’s shoulders. He feels his cheeks flushing and chances looking at Stan's face. He's met by similar, half lidded eyes, gazing back at him. Into him. Stan must have been feeling the same because his face is also a brilliant shade of pink.
Ford swallows thickly. Stan leans in first, but not all the way, crowding the open space between them and stopping. He’s so close, but to Ford he still seems too far. Almost as if a shy game of chicken, Ford leans in too, but stalling a mere inch away.
“ These arms of mine, they are burning. Burning from wanting you.” The low ragged voice seems to almost urge them on. Still staring at one another they both, slightly hesitant, come together into a small, chaste kiss.
A fire ignites inside Ford, a heated spark he never knew the pleasure of experiencing before.
They pull back ever so slightly, eyeing each other, as if searching for any sign not to come back together. Apparently finding none they both slowly close the gap and their mouths come together, this time in an open kiss. Stan tilting his head to get a better angle and exploring Ford’s mouth further.
Ford, in his inexperience, not quite sure what to do with his tongue, let’s Stan’s rove around his own, but being quick to pick things up he follows suit, mingling them together. Their kiss quickly becomes more, passion evident in their moving to better open their mouths to one another, both not seeming to want to stop.
Ford’s hands find themselves in Stan’s hair, pulling lightly at the pomaded locks. He feels Stan’s hands lean more lecherous, leaving their place at his hips and snaking their way up his suit coat, finding the bare flesh underneath. They lap into each other's mouths hungerly. Hot and needy, Stan’s hands explore up Ford's torso, groping as he goes, one on his side pulling him close and the other cupping his sensitive pec.
Ford breaks their kiss and let’s out a soft moan. “Stanley, w-we should stop.” He manages to pant out. Stan’s bliss-out face searches Ford's for a moment, trying to register the situation.
"Y-ou wanna' stop?" His blown out pupils peer into his own as he asks.
A longing to continue rages in Ford’s mind, but his words betray his feelings. "Yeah…yeah, let’s not… not here anyway.”
“Hello? Earth to poindexter?” Stan’s holding him smirking. “Did I lose you?”
“Huh? Oh uh- I was just thinking of the last time we danced together, at prom.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Ya’ know, my memory might be a little fuzzy still, but as I recall we left that night with some unfinished business.” Stan says, wagging his eyebrows.
“Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Ford supplies playfully back.
Closing the gap between them Stan pulls Ford into a deep, passionate kiss.
"Ya know, when I was working on my list I did come across this one tradition where you find a hidden pickle…" Stan smiles suggestively at his brother.
"Ah yes, it’s a relatively modern custom, though some think it dates back to german ro-”
"I was being suggestive, Poindexter. Yeesh." Stan's face is unamused but playful.
"I see. Well..." Ford shuffles his feet a little and looks away out the window. Stan's gaze follows his twin's and before he realizes it Ford breaks their embrace and is running down the hall.
"Ford? Hey- where ya going?" He calls out as he begins jogging after him.
"Race you to the bedroom!" Ford's laugh echoes through the halls as he runs.
"Oh ho ho- you're in for it now Sixer! C'mere!" Stan chases him and as they reach the end of the hall Ford dives onto the mattress and Stan slams the door shut behind him.