Work Text:
Salty sea air clung to his tongue as the smell of fish and seaweed invaded his nostrils with every breath. Seagull shrieks filled the warm summer scene, their voices mixing with the songs in the distance, emanating from the boardwalk. Out of tune, a singer with a sore throat. From the deck of their land-bound ship, Stan could see the silhouettes of boats passing, blotches of darkness against the orange-pink sky.
The scene had a warm, nostalgic quality. Its edges were fuzzy, and the seagull’s singing seemed to shift in and out of focus, like he was half asleep; just about to wake up or fall deeper into it. His limbs felt heavy and slow, his brain foggy. He was tired. He always was after a day fixing the boat with Ford. Where was he, anyway?
As if reading his thoughts, the wood behind him creaked, and he saw Ford standing there. He looked just like he did when they were thirteen, and why did that surprise him? Something was off. He should be remembering something, shouldn’t he? For a moment Ford seemed angry, or was it something else? Stan wasn’t sure. Wasn’t he supposed to be good at reading people? As soon as the emotion passed Ford’s face, it was gone. Instead, he looked worried. Stan wasn’t sure which emotion was the truth.
“Stanley, are you okay?” he asked, and it felt wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the question seemed off. Ford would not ask him that. He hated him. He was supposed to hate him, right? That was definitely something that was supposed to be happening, but why? It was something about a science fair- “Stanley!” Ford cut off his thoughts, and suddenly his whole train of thought left the station, leaving him floundering.
“What?” he stammered, mind coming up blank when he tried to think back to a few moments before.
“I asked if you were okay.” Ford said. His eyebrows were furrowed with confusion, but Stan had a gnawing feeling that it was fake. This whole thing was fake. He knew more than him. “I think you should sit down.” He said, grabbing Stan’s arm and leading him off the boat, helping to sit on the sand. That wasn’t right either. Glass Shard Beach was called that because of the shards of glass that littered the beach. They should not be sitting there. They’d get diseases or something. He was honestly shocked that neither of them had gotten stabbed with a needle back then, with how much time they spent there as kids.
Spent? Back then? Why was he thinking like this was something that happened years ago?
“Don’t think about it.” Ford said from beside him, pressed into his side. Stan turned his head to him, blinking, but Ford didn’t acknowledge the random statement. If Stan didn’t know any better, he would think Ford was reading his mind. But that wasn’t possible. Sure, twin telepathy was a trope in a bunch of things, but that wasn’t real, was it? No. If it was, things would have been different. Ford would have known about the project. He would have known Stan didn’t mean it.
Wait. The project! Ford’s project that was supposed to get him into a fancy university. The one Stan had broken. The final mistake in a mile-long list that got him kicked out. That was why he thought Ford hated him! Of-
Ford pulled him sideways, so his head was on his lap, his back against the warm sand and looking up towards the sky, now dark and full of stars. His twin ran his fingers through his hair, and the thoughts of Ford hating him once again fell through his fingers like water. “You’re okay.” Ford muttered over and over again, though, every once in a while, he would mutter, so quiet that Stan could only hear him because they were so close, that he was sorry. It was strange, hearing his brother apologize for something that Stan didn’t even remember. It was nice being with him, though. It felt like it had been such a long time since him and Ford could be like this. Kids stargazing. The Stan-o-War nearby, with it’s rotten and creaky wood, it’s promise of adventure. The sound of the ocean waves crashing together as they stayed out past sunset. Knowing their mom was back home and would lecture them for staying out too late, but then pull them into a hug and tell them to get ready for dinner.
“It can be like this forever, you know.” Ford hummed from above him, fingers continuing to thread through his hair without hesitating as he continued to speak. “Like this, forever. You, me, the Stan-o-War. Would you like that?” Stan hummed back in affirmation, eyes growing heavy as he began to fall asleep. “I just need to know where you are.”
Stan’s eyes blinked open. “What?” his words were slightly slurred from his brush with sleep, but they were also deeper, gravelly. Older. Looking up at Ford, he looked older too. Suddenly, he remembered everything. The accident, his years on the streets, the fucking apocalypse with Ford at the center of it. He tried to sit up, but Ford pushed him down again. Gently, like he was fragile.
“Shh, Stanley. It’s okay. You’re safe.” Well, that was a lie. “Just tell me where you are, and no one will ever hurt you. I promise.” Ford spoke to him like he was a spooked animal, and while he hated it, he certainly felt that way.
He sat up again and, while Ford didn’t stop him this time, there was a flash of that emotion he had seen before. Anger, or something akin to it. Stan scrambled back from his twin, thankful that this dream Glass Shard Beach was glass shard free. And this was a dream, he knew know, which made a lot of things make more sense.
“Damn it, Stanley. Can’t you for once listen to me? I’m trying to help you. It’s not safe!”
“And who made it not safe?” the words came out of his mouth without warning, burning their path through his chest. Sure, he felt stupid arguing with a dream version of his brother, but his actual brother was trying to kill him, so he was allowed some leniency, at least. “If you want me safe, stop looking for me!”
Stanford’s face, before filled with that unnameable emotion, suddenly closed off, leaving a blank, neutral expression. “I can’t do that, Stanley.” He said, voice dark.
Then, suddenly, Stan shot awake, finding himself still curled up in the corner of the empty furniture store he had fallen asleep in. As he rubbed his eyes, he couldn’t help the laughter bubbling in his throat. Of course, Ford had to get the final word in, even in his dreams.