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Stan was always the big brother.
He had always been there to look out for the youngest. He changed his diapers, made him breakfast and even took him to the park once and a while.
He was always there to defend Ford. Whenever he was bullied, or got into accidental fights, Stanley stopped at nothing to keep him safe.
And that was just when they were kids.
Of course Ford had no idea if Stan kept in contact with Shermie, but he had witnessed Stan protect the kids.
He fought like he always did, with his brass knuckles and screamed until his voice hurt for Mabel.
When Dipper was hurt, he'd fix him up and teach him the correct way to fight back, before getting a few punches in himself to relieve his anger. He always did have such a temper.
Then of course, there was Soos. Stan fought the hardest for Soos. It was clear that Soos was like a son to him. He wouldn't give in, even if he was bleeding from all sides. He then took Soos into his arms, and pretended to remain nonchalant, before running off again to vent frustrations.
And here Ford was.
Sitting on the counter, with a black eye, thousands of bruises, a few sore wounds, and if he had to guess, broken leg.
Stan, upon seeing him, had immediately gotten the first aid kit, without saying a word, and started dabbing at his eye.
Twenty minutes later, and he was wrapping him up with bandages and strapping a cast to his leg.
Ford examined the way he so simply did so without complaint. He seemed angry, but then he always did when Ford was hurt, and for once he had no idea what was running though his brothers head.
This was strange to say the least. He had spent thirty years in other dimensions, surviving on his own. He could have patched himself up. The monster didn't really hurt him that much.
But he wouldn't dare say that to Stanley. Stan would only lecture him, and tell him how worried he was about him, which drowned Ford in guilt. He hated making Stan worry about him.
But he knew Stan always would. Even after everything they had been through, that horrifying fight where years of resentment built up and exploded for a second time ten years later, Stan still loved him.
How could he? How was he so forgiving of the childish way Ford acted all those years ago?
He had been so selfish. He hadn't even considered how it affected Stanley. Until Stan was gone.
He realised that he took being protected for granted.
To the point where he longed for Stan's comfort so much, he had built himself a time machine just to see his brother again. He was too awkward and proud to call.
It was then Ford realised that Stan was hurting.
His parents didn't love him, Ford himself ignored him half the time. It was no wonder he felt the need to protect his family. He believed it was his only purpose.
What if he still believed that?
No. He couldn't. Not after all these years. But there was a small possibility.
He should be the one protecting Stanley. He was the actual big brother after all.
Stanley deserved the world especially after all he had put Stan through.
That was it settled. The next time Stan got hurt, Ford would protect him.
To show Stanley how much he loved him. That he needed protected too.
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Well, as Ford predicted, it didn't take Stan too long to let himself get hurt.
He seemed to be numb to it. As if he didn't even notice the blood gushing out of his stomach. He had always ignored himself.
"Stanley!" Ford called to him as he almost climbed the stairs. "Get back here."
"Ugh...what do you...want...sixer?" Stan struggled, clearly losing oxygen.
"Sit." Ford pointed to the counter.
"What?"
"Sit!"
"Ugh... fine."
Ford grabbed the first aid box and put antiseptic gel over the scar, to ward of germs and help the skin heal. Then he placed a towel over it and pressed it deeply, to prevent further blood loss.
Stan stared at him with utter confusion, but he seemed to appreciate the effort.
Finally, after bandaging it up, Ford helped Stan down and practically carried him up to his room.
He tucked him into bed and took off his glasses.
"There now. You should be able to rest."
"Ford what is this about?"
"Just because. You know... You're my brother. I gotta protect you." Ford rubbed the back of his head.
"Thanks sixer." Stan said with sincerity, the words 'I love you' not even needing to be said.
Ford left Stanley alone to sleep, pride consuming him.
Stan was always the big brother. But sometimes, Stan's actual big brother had to look out for him.