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The beginning is hard. Stan can’t process most of it, sat on the deck of a boat gently rocking on the high seas, living with the harsh truth.
Ford was going to leave him.
He wasn’t hearing it wrong, he wasn’t misinterpreting the words, Great Uncle Mason wanted to take Ford under his wing, and Ford said yes. He looked like a girlfriend being proposed to and it made tight knots in Stan’s tummy that hurt and nauseated him. He ran and ran and thought he was helping Fidds, but it wasn’t Fidds, it was Bill, then he woke up on a boat in the middle of an ocean, with a strange blue sky, stars despite the impression of day time, and another boy on the boat, manning the wheel.
He looked like Ford, but something was different. His hair was longer, to start, falling in soft waves down to his chin, unlike the short and tight curls he and his twin sported. One eye stared at him, the other hidden behind a pirates eyepatch over glasses, maybe a little more square than what he remembered Ford’s to look like? Possibly. He looked thinner too, though Stan couldn’t be certain. He hadn’t seen Ford properly in the last two weeks, so maybe this was how he looked when he wasn’t in his red turtleneck? Maybe his hair was longer, he was one for neglecting to cut it when engrossed in some stupid science thing, maybe he was thinner, the last meal he saw his brother eat was an apple four days ago. A light blue striped bandana was tied around his head, pushing hair out of his face, ‘Ford’ wore that alien bed-shirt he insisted on not washing, with plain pants and shoes, and a large pirates coat sat on his shoulders.
‘Ford’ turned his head and called out to Stan, and he froze. He sounded just like him. He couldn’t be him…could he? “Stanley! Up here!”Stan didn’t know what he was meant to do, so he let his feet take him up, and he stood next to the thing masquerading as his brother, “Stan, can you man the wheel while I get your stuff from our room?” He asked, already running away to a room beneath them. Confused eyes looked to the wheel and watched as the boat steered itself, but he held tight anyway, knowing that if he lost focus of the wheel for just a second, he’d be on the boy running back up the stairs, punching his teeth out. The other boy thanked him and put a hand atop his, and it took all his strength to not grab it and twist violently. The boy spoke, “There’s no one else out, so you can just change here if you want. I won’t turn unless you want me to, captain’s honour.” A six fingered hand on his heart.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were leaving me for Great Uncle Mason. What are you doing here?” Stan bit, staring at ‘Ford’ with a hatred he had never felt before, “Oh, I’m technically not Stanford, at least not the one who’s leaving you for your great uncle. You can call me Captain Ford, I’ve been manning the Stan o’ War while you’ve been absent.”
“What do you mean you’re not Ford? You got his face, you got his voice. You some whacky creation of Bill’s meant to scare me?”
Captain Ford laughed, the same one that always made Stan feel warm inside, and he forced himself to scowl at the boy by the wheel, “No, I’m sort of a clone. Not quite the Ford who left you, but still me.”
Stan’s scowl relaxed slowly, “So… you’re a him that isn’t leaving?”
“Pretty much. I got his memories and junk, so the only thing that really separates us is where we are in relation to you.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely a poindexter.”
Stan stood next to Captain Ford for a few moments in awkward silence, debating on how appropriate his next sentence would be, “Captain?” He started, “Where the fuck are we?” He felt a rush being able to swear without repercussions, “Language Stanley.” Captain responded, and Stan’s excitement at an extended vocabulary was crushed, “This is a bubble made by Bill. You can have anything you want here.” Stan stared at the vast sea and sky ahead of him, “Anything?” He asked, and with just a thought, a possum started running towards him, “SHANKLIN! PAPA’S HERE!” He opened his arms as the little guy jumped into his hands, acting almost dog-like as he licked the boy's cheek.
He let his pet jump out his arms and went over to the clothes folded near the back of the boat, hand running over the pink shirt resting at the top of the pile. He unfolded it and smiled, “The alien shirt I wanted from the thrift store! I went back last week but the lady had already sold it!” He ran the shirt fabric through his fingers and brought it to his nose to sniff it, smelling the comforting scent of his brother and their room back in New Jersey. He looked through the other clothes, the red jacket he left at home, a pair of comfortable denim shorts, and a real pirates bandana, with the same symbol as Pa’s fez embroidered on, and took them in his arms, setting them on a wooden keg while he got changed.
He turned to Captain Ford, and his ‘brother’ smiled at him, taking the bandana and tying it around his head. He could feel his breath hot on his lips, but refused to close the distance between them, not wanting to test those waters. The Captain cheered, “There we go first mate, you look like a proper pirate now!” and put a hand on Stan’s shoulder, gaze soft as they looked at each other. Stan thought about closing the distance, but that wasn’t appropriate, it wasn’t what brothers were meant to do, so he broke away and looked down. He wished he hadn’t. He saw those scars Bill had his brother cut into himself and his stomach dropped. There was a combination of old and new ones, but before he could assess how bad the damage was, Captain Ford’s sleeves were pushed down, and the pirate's jacket was pulled over his arms, “Well we got a whole sea to travel, islands to explore, and aliens to fight. Where to first Stanley?” Captain Ford asked, turning to his brother.
They spent what felt like hours fighting and exploring, only stopping when Stan asked how the days worked in the bubble. The sky shifted quickly to a dark blue, stars littering the world like the glitter Grauntie Mae used in her crafts, and the two boys settled on the deck.
Stan tried to keep a comfortable distance between the two of them, but Captain Ford wouldn’t allow it, pulling Stan into his lap so they could cuddle like they did before the summer tore them apart, “I’m sorry the me out there didn’t care about you when he accepted Mason’s offer. He knows why you can’t go back on your own, but he also knows why you can’t stay with him. It’s not fair.” He pulled the two of them down and they lay among the stars, pointing out constellations and exchanging stories of their childhood, but Stan couldn’t help looking whenever Captain Ford raised his arm, the sleeve of his shirt falling down and showing his scars. Stan’s heart ached every time he saw them, but he couldn’t turn away, “I still hate looking at this,” he delicately took Captain’s arm in his hand and delicately traced the scars, “Ford.. why’d you have to...” he trailed off, tears welling in his eyes. Captain Ford pulled him a little closer, and Stan swore the other boy blushed when he looked up at him, “I don't really want to look at them either.”he stood up, extending his arms out to Stanley to help him stand, “Will you patch me up? I think I have Ma’s first aid kit somewhere.”
Stan patched his brother up under the light of the stars, taking care when cleaning the fresher wounds, finally feeling like he was of use to someone. Once the band-aids were all up Captain Ford’s arm, he held the boy's hand, chancing fate as he brought his arm up to kiss the covered scars, “There, that should make them heal faster.” He whispered, crawling back into the other Ford’s arms. His teary gaze fell to his brother, and they paused for a moment, unsure of what the next move would be, but there was a smile and a sweet laugh from this Ford that gave Stan confidence. He closed his eyes and moved closer, Ford reciprocating, closing the distance between them as the lips he’d wished to kiss ghosted over his for a moment. Stan draped his arms over Ford’s neck, and the last centimeter between them closed, lips against lips. He couldn’t understand why everyone said feeling this way about family was wrong, it had never felt more right to have Ford’s kissing him. It felt horrible when they realised they would have to break for air, so Stan stayed as close as he could, Ford’s breath hot on his lips.
“I know everything you’ve ever wanted from me.” Captain Ford said, hands cupping Stan’s face, thumbs wiping away his tears, “You could ask anything of me and I’d say yes.”
“S’at cause you’re in my head?” Stan asks,
“No, not really. I’m from your head, but if I want to say yes, it’s because I want to, not because you think I want to.”
“And why should I believe you?”
A soft pair of lips touch his again, and he melts into it. It’s all he’s ever wanted from Ford, to have his brother there, loving him as much as he loves him. The second kiss is not as perfect, there’s teeth and at one point Stan bites his brother's lip, but it’s what he’d always wanted, “I am your idea of Ford, but I’m also my idea of me. I’m as much Stanford Pines as I want to be. And I know the me out there doesn’t say it, I know it’s never been said,” He kisses Stan’s tears, holding his brother close, “But I love you. I love you, and I don’t just mean as your brother. You’re my Stanley and I’m scared of losing you, and it’s so scary feeling this way about you. Everyone says it’s wrong to feel this way about family, but it feels more wrong to not feel this way about you.”
He peppers kisses over Stanley’s face and neck, feeling a warmth inside when his brother’s breath catches, a quiet whisper of, “Ford~” when he kisses just below his jaw, “And I can’t be totally certain, but if the me out there is the same as the me in here, he’s running away from his feelings. He’s staying here not because he doesn’t love you, but because he thinks he loves you the wrong way. But me? The parts of Ford you know, are the ones that let me know that it doesn’t matter if others say it's wrong, because I know it's right.” Stan tastes of cherries and sunshine, a soft hum escaping when Captain Ford kisses him deeper, “If anything, being your brother makes me love you more. The universe saw we’d be soulmates and brought us together.”
Stan smiles into the kisses, their little fingers lacing together, “Wow Captain, you sure are sappy. All those words when you could just say you love me?”
“I thought you loved me for my ramblings!” Ford smiled,
“I do!”
“Well, I love you too. I always will.”
Stan comes to learn just how differently time moves in the bubble. It could have been hours or days outside since Stan was given a safe haven, but that’s not his problem anymore. Every day is an adventure, ships to take over, aliens to fight, new places to stargaze, hours to fight and laugh, hours to explore each other’s bodies. Everytime a pair of soft lips find his neck, he finds himself falling slightly, breath hitching as kisses travel up to his lips. He shudders every time a pair of 6 fingered hands hold his waist, a soft pressure felt as Ford squeezes him, pressing himself into Stan. He’s no idiot, he’s seen videos on their shared laptop, left in their Jersey home, of people half clothed and intertwined. Sometimes he mimics what he watched, turning Ford around so his back is pressed to Stan’s tummy, one hand under his shirt as it kneads his chest, the other below his ‘brothers’ belt, fingers rubbing a small bundle of nerves that was only formed through Stan’s limited exposure to sexual intimacy, clumsily fingering Ford’s pussy, revelling in the soft little moans and cries that leave the other boys lips, “Stan…Stan please~ aaah~”
When they weren’t fighting or treasure hunting, when they weren’t all swollen red lips and love bites up their necks, Stan played guitar for them. He’s not the best player, Mr Valentino had only started teaching him when he came to Oregon, but he picked it up quickly. He loved pop punk, especially the stuff from the early naughts, and he sang as often as he could for Ford, his guitar resting by their bed in the captain’s quarters. Sometimes Captain Ford sang with him, and those were his favourite moments, harmonising with the other boy under stars, “Why can you read me like no one else? I hide behind these words, but I’m coming out.” Stan sang, his voice not quite polished, but it didn’t matter when Ford sang along with him. It was another Fall Out Boy song, one of his favourite bands, which this Ford knew. He prided himself on knowing things about Stan, it felt good to see the boy smile, knowing that the him out there hadn’t seen his brother happy for a while.
Stan spent most of the night playing songs for Ford, confidence rising in his voice as the stars moved in the sky. They decided that each night would end with Stan playing for him, singing all the pop punk he could, teaching Ford about his favourite bands. He tried to teach Ford, and to his surprise they made some progress, but every time Stan had to stand behind him and manually position his fingers into a new chord, Ford couldn’t help but kiss him. Teaching Ford stopped being a priority pretty quickly.
After what felt like weeks, Stan had found his routine. It was ‘morning’, so he and Ford would walk out onto the deck and survey their map, deciding what adventure they were going to have that day. It was another cloudless day, a warm breeze floating in the air, and Stan was prepared for anything.
Then he heard a scream. A familiar scream.
The two boys stared ahead, “You hear that?” Stan asked, looking towards the sound, watching as the sky above cracked open, a boy falling through and landing painfully on the deck. Stan stared on in horror, “St-Stanford?” He stuttered, walking towards his brother, letting go of Ford’s hand to approach. He watched as the boy stood up, almost reaching out to help him up, but once his eyes locked onto his, he soured, backing up to Captain Ford, who tenderly took hold of his hand.
Stanford took no notice of the other boy, trying hard to grab and pull his brother towards him while shouting, “Stanley! We need to leave immediately, Bill got hold of Great Uncle Mason!” Their hands barely connected for a second before Stan ripped it away, turning to Captain Ford who wrapped his arms around him, “He can’t make me go, I don’t have to go, I can say here with you where it’s safe.” Stan whispered, breath shaking as his vision blurred. Captain Ford cupped his face and gave him a short kiss, cradling a weeping head to his chest, “No, you don’t have to go with him, you can stay here.” He turned to his outside counterpart, “He doesn’t want you here. Go back to Mason. I’m sure he’ll find some use for you. Maybe you could be the replacement for his last assistant. You’re just as spineless as she was.”
Stanford saw red, “SAYS THE COPY OF ME?!” His eyes burned into Stan as his brother hid his face in the crook of the faker's shoulder, “WHAT? DID BILL GET TO YOU TOO STANLEY?!”
“No.”
“Whaddya mean no? You can’t say that when you believe that copy is actually me!”
“He’s not a copy. If he were, he would have left me.”
Stanfords eyes widened, his tone hurt, “What do you mean ‘He would have left me.’? When did I ever say I was leaving you?”
Ford cooed at his brother, rubbing circles on his back as he looked on at Stanford, “You accepted Mason’s offer to stay here and be mentored by him. You know why Stan can’t stay here, ergo, you were effectively leaving him.”
Stanford wanted to fight back, wanted to shout how wrong the clone was, but he couldn’t. There was no arguing it; he had essentially told Stanford to either leave their mother and baby brother with their abusive father, or go home alone and be abused. Ma couldn’t afford to get herself and Shermie out here, hell, she couldn’t afford to bring the twins here, it was Grauntie Mae who funded the trip. Stanford was silent, horrified at the choice he unknowingly presented his brother with. He had two options, either apologise, or double down.
“What’s the worst Pa could do if you stay here? He loves Shermie, and he loves Ma. And I’m sure if you go home he’ll be happy, he’s always calling you his featherweight, deep down, he loves you Stanley.”
Stan froze, and Ford knew instantly what caused it, holding his brother up as he went limp in the captain’s arms. Stanford felt a guilt he’d never felt settle in his stomach, clawing its way up in a nauseating manner. He’d said something wrong again.
“He doesn’t mean that. He doesn’t know why he calls you that. He doesn’t mean that, do you, Stanford?” The clone bites at him, able to comfort Stan in a way Stanford never could, “You didn’t know Pa called him that to mock him. Why would Stan want to trust you with that information?”
Stanford felt himself shrink, unable to do the one thing he should have been doing as a brother, protecting Stan. He felt useless as the pirate clone soothed Stan, soft whispers of, “Pa can’t get you here. Stanford didn’t know he used to touch you. He wouldn’t have said that if he knew, I know I wouldn’t have. I’m here, you’re safe.” Leaving his lips, the same lips on his own face, but very much not the same person, no matter how much he looked and sounded like him.
Stan collected himself and turned back to his original brother, “Sorry Stanford, you were going to make me go back alone.” He saw a familiar yet distant six fingered hand squeeze Stan’s protectively, “And I’d never let that happen.”
Stanford didn’t care to pay attention to what happened afterwards. At some point he was tied to the other side of the boat and made to just sit and watch as his brother leaned into another version of him, sour jealousy rising like bile in his throat as the clone kissed him, wanting nothing more than to have been the boy Stan was whispering sweet nothings to, fingers tenderly interlaced as the stars shone in the sky.
He wasn’t sure of how time truly passed in the bubble, but he watched the sun rise and set several times since landing there. He watched as his brother stepped out of the captain's door, his shirt just too big for him as it slid off his shoulder. He wanted so badly to walk up to Stan and kiss the bare skin, but he only had a few feet of movement with the rope tied around his waist. Still he watched on, standing up as Stan came towards him. The younger brother untied him, “We had a talk and we decided to untie you. You can stay here with us.”
“Would you come home with me?” Stanford asked, eyes unable to look away from the rosy red patches blossoming like a Ruby necklace around Stan’s neck, “You know I won’t. But I’ll sit with you. Captain Ford won’t be up for a little while longer. I asked to have some private time.”
He felt a comforting sense of familiarity as his brother sat next to him, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, “You didn’t mean what you said the other day, right?”
“The feather thing? No. I’d never have said that if I knew.” He replied, opening his arms for a hug that Stan awkwardly leaned into, body tense and on edge. Stanford cleared his throat, “So what can you do here? Anything interesting?”
“I can create anything I want. I got Shanklin back!”
Ford smiled as the possum ran up to them, happily laying in his lap waiting for belly scratches, “He’s kinda dog-like, Stan.”
His brother laughed, and it almost sounded normal, “I’ve never exactly owned a possum Sixer.”
Stanford smiled at the familiar nickname, but his face dropped as the Captain walked out. Stan left him, running to greet the other boy with a kiss, and his heart sank again. How neglected must he have felt to make a clone of him to fulfil the void left? How badly had he wanted Stanford, and how oblivious was he to not see how his brother felt about him, currently laughing with someone who claimed to be him? Stanford could have sat and dwelled on it until the world ended, but he had to get them out of the bubble, so he pushed his thoughts away and made his way down to the two boys.
The Captain had said something that made Stan laugh softly, but Stanford felt smug when he diverted his attention over to him, “Hey Sixer, Ford was just telling me about the time Grunkle Mason tried to visit the gnomes with you and one of them peed their pants!”
How did he know that?
“Excuse me…Captain?” he tentatively asked, “Can I ask why you’re telling Stanley a story that happened to me? Last time I checked it was only myself and Great Uncle Mason present with the gnomes?”
The Captain turned, the eye looking at him so similar, yet so foreign, replying to him with a relaxed tone, “That’s correct Stanford. As a version of you, we share the same memories, so that’s how I was able to remember our last encounter with the gnomes.”
Stanford didn’t know what nauseated him more, the way he sounded just like him, or how genuine he sounded when speaking. Had the clone gone that far in convincing Stan he was his brother that he had his own self fooled? He wasn’t a ‘version’ of anyone, the creature touching his brother, kissing his brother, leaving little love bites up the neck of his brother wasn’t any version of him. It reeked of Bill and he wanted to snap Stanley out of his loved up daze, but there was no way he would be able to accept the truth right away. He resolved to bide his time and plan, pretending to get along just enough with his ‘clone’. It was hard, but he had to make it work, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to save Stanley, and he would once again have failed the brother he never should have failed.
It seemed to have been a week since Stanford decided to play nice with the Captain, and sure, fighting aliens and other pirates was fun, and having someone at a similar intellectual level and age was something Stanford liked, but he knew that in the end, he’d have his brother back, and this copy of him would be gone. Stan was resting in the captain's quarters, but his companion was out on the deck, legs dangling through the fencing on the side of the boat, looking on at the horizon.
Ford made his way over to him and sat down, taking in the sight before he spoke to him, “Why do you always sound so…real? You never sound like you’re faking anything.” He asked, genuinely wanting to know how he could have himself convinced, despite obviously being a product of Bill alone.
The Captain crossed his arms on the banister of the fence and lay his head down, “Because I’m not.” He replied, “I wasn’t lying when I said I was a copy of you. Your face, your voice, your intellect, your memories? They’re just as much mine as they are yours.”
Ford was confused, “But why? Why would you copy me?”
“If you want the right answer, you’d have to ask Stan, he’s the one who created me. But if you wanted me to take a stab at it, I’d say it’s because he’s done with waiting for you.” His tone was bitter at the end, malice coating every syllable.
Stanford felt a pit form in his stomach, “Waiting for me?” He responded nervously,
“He’s spent the whole summer looking at you; he’d be happy to just hold your attention for more than a second at this point, but I know you, I am you, I know that it’s been Bill, Bill, Bill.” He turned to face Stanford, anger in his tone, “And when it stopped being Bill, it became all about Mason.”
Stanford felt the need to defend himself, standing up to move away from the other boy, “But we still hung out, we still went on adventures! I still made time for him!”
The Captain followed suit, hand hovering over his sword, “Not enough, evidently. He got bored with waiting for you, like how Bill got bored with you for not wanting to be his little toy anymore.”
“Don’t you dare…”
“What?” The Captain shrugged his coat off and rolled his sleeves up, “You see these scars, you know, deep down, that we’re one and the same. I know everything he did to you, and I know he got bored when you stopped being interesting.”
He turned on his heel to walk away, “Man… it must suck that both Bill and Stan are bored with you.”
Stanford saw red.
He lunged at the Captain, tackling him to the ground as his hands came to hit and slap his chest and face, foot standing on his leg, “YOU SHUT UP YOU IDIOTIC EXCUSE OF A CLONE!” He screamed, pushing the palm of his hand into the others face, “YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A SHODDY CREATION OF BILL’S, SET TO TRAP STANLEY IN HERE FOR ETERNITY WHILE HE WREAKS HAVOC ON THE REAL WORLD!”
The Captain fought back, grabbing Stanfords hair, biting the boy's hand, kneeing him in the groin and shoving him off his body, shouting loudly, “I AM MY OWN PERSON! I AM NOT JUST A PUPPET OF BILL’S, I’M BETTER THAN YOU!”
Neither boy noticed as Stan walked out of the doorway, having been woken by the sound of thudding on the hard wood of the deck. He looked ahead as both versions of his brother fought, though their technique was off, and their lack of strength was evident. He almost felt like breaking them apart to give them pointers, but they seemed too focused on each other to notice him. He opted to sit on a barrel, watching the two Stanfords exchange shoddy blows to one another.
“He wants to be with me, you go back to your stupid uncle and go marry him or something!” Ford spat, trying his hardest to kick Stanford in the stomach,
“Oh he only wants you because you’re manipulating him, once I make him see sense, he’ll come back to me.” Stanford retorted, picking the other boy up and running him into the boat’s railings.
Stan stared ahead, obsessed with the scene in front of him. Stanford and Ford were fighting over him. No one had ever cared to fight for him, and now two people were throwing punches in the hopes of having him. He felt smug, but the feeling only lasted briefly, hearing the familiar sound of Ford’s sword leaving its hilt. Ford had Stanford pinned on the ground, straddling the boy's hips, and his hands went to firmly grasp around the hilt of the sword.
The sword loomed over Stanford’s chest, and he froze. Was the Captain really about to stab him? He braced for the impact and oncoming pain, but nothing came. When he looked down, he saw the sword buried in his chest, but it was as if the sword wasn’t real. He took hold of it with his hand and the blade was cool, but nothing hurt, the fabric of his shirt wasn’t torn, and there was no sight of blood.
“But… but… why?” The Captain questioned, thrusts of his blade punctuating each word, “Why won’t it work? You don’t deserve him!”
Stanford grabbed the blade as the Captain plunged it toward his heart, and pulled with force, dragging the other boy down to him. He let go of the blade to stabilise himself, and Ford took the opportunity to throw it away, hearing it hit against a barrel. They both turned upon hearing the metal clack, and that’s when they saw Stanley sat atop the wood, watching like it was just a normal boxing match, “By all means, don’t stop fighting over me. I’m really enjoying this.” He quipped, blushing as he saw his two brothers panting heavily. While the Captain was distracted by Stanley, Stanford took advantage of it and caught his nose with a mean left hook. When he turned back, blood slowly dripped out of his nose and onto the other boy's shirt. He stood up and wiped it away with his sleeve, smearing red over his lips. Stanley wanted to kiss him so badly then, the blood glossing Ford’s lips beautifully, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t about to just take a side and stop the entertainment.
Ford wasn’t thinking the same thoughts, walking over to Stanley and crashing their lips together in a messy kiss, “For good luck.” He laughed, turning back to lunge at Stanford. Stanley wasn’t so sure if he liked how heavy their hits were becoming, and the words exchanged hurt all of them, “I was there for Stan when you refused to be!” Ford spat,
“I’ve been there with him from the start!” Stanford sneered back.
Stanley wasn’t happy, sure being fought over was nice after years of being the last option, but if it came at the expense of the two boys he loved not realising that their similarities meant he loved them the same, he wasn’t sure he wanted to watch anymore.
“SIXER, FORD, STOP!”
The boys turned toward Stan, who was walking towards them, determination in his eyes, “I love my brother, I don’t care where he is in the world, he could be here, in New Jersey, hell he could be in Scotland for all I know and I’d be there for him. You can’t take him away from me. You can’t replace him.”
“See clone, he want me-“
“And you!” Stan bit, “You promised me you’d always make time for me, always be at my side, but this whole summer it’s been about everyone else but me! It was Fidds, and I was comfortable with that, then it was Bill, and I hated what he did to you, then it was Grunkle Mason, and I lost you.” Stan turned away with tears falling down, “You can’t just expect me to sit and wait like a dog, I want attention, that’s not too much to ask for, is it?”
Both boys had no idea what to do. Stanley was actually crying now, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, but when each boy tried to comfort him, they were pushed away. He curled in on himself, and they felt hopeless, “All I wanted was for you to look at me. I wanted it, but I would have been okay if you never felt the same way about me.” He cried, head tucked in as he shrank, “And then I come here, and there’s a you here who loves me, who wants to hear what I have to say, who wants to…to hold my hand! And kiss me! He wants to kiss me and he does it all the time, and yes it’s wrong, I shouldn’t want my brother to kiss me, but this isn’t the real world, and I can have what I want here, and I want you!” He stood up and walked back over to the barrel, leaning over it for support, “But neither of you care about what I want. You’re both Stanford Pines, only caring about what you want.”
“But I want you, Stanley” they said in unison, stepping towards him, “Really? If you did, you wouldn’t fight like this.” He replied, foot hitting against the discarded sword.
Captain Ford was pissed. He was made to give Stanley the attention he deserved, and he wasn’t even able to do that. He felt livid, grabbing Stanford and pushing him down, but when he looked to the boy on the deck, something was different. He recognised the desperate look in his eyes, reminding him they were just kids in love with the same boy, who both wanted him to get the attention and care he deserved. Stanford seemed to understand what was going on as well, gaze beginning to soften.
Then a silver pierced through the Captain’s chest, and Stanford’s expression fell, unable to say or do anything to help the Captain.
Captain Ford stood motionless, sword breaking through his chest, particles of light shining like sunlight through the exit point of the blade, “Stanley?” He sputtered out, feeling his chest begin to tighten.
“Stanley? Why did you do that?” Stanford questioned, eyes widening in horror as the Captain’s hand went to touch the blade. Stan let go of the hilt, watching as the Captain stumbled back and fell into his arms. He held him tight, not knowing what would happen to him.
The Captain looked up at Stan, tears fighting to spill out his eyes. A heaviness weighed on his chest, and suddenly the dam burst, tears flowing, “Stan, I don’t want to replace him.” He sputtered, breath shaking. Stan felt hurt, betrayed, but he still held onto the boy in his arms, “What was your plan then? Keep me here for eternity while Bill destroys Gravity…”
Oh. Of course.
Stan looked down to see the boy in his arms, and he knew something had changed. He looked like them, of course he would, having been created from their image, but something was different on an emotional level. The eye looking up at him was not a copy of Stanford’s, it belonged to him, and it was scared. This could never be the face of someone who truly wanted to replace Ford, it was obvious now that it was Bill, always Bill. Bill wanted them apart, Bill wanted to put a rift in their relationship, and he would do anything to break it apart. Bill was able to create life and used his powers to instantly take away the autonomy of the boy in Stan’s arms.
"Stanley-" The Captain's voice faltered, a searing pain blooming in his chest unlike anything he remembered from any of their pasts.
"It hurts! Please- I don't wanna die!" He pleaded, vision blurring with tears that threatened to fall. He felt something catch in his throat and he heaved, feeling something tight wrap itself around his ribs.
"I'm sorry! PLEASE! I- I don't wanna die!"
Ford watched as the blade vanished into light, the skin once broken instantly scarring over. The other scars that twinned with his from Bill faded, and he looked as the hand his brother had gone to grasp lost its sixth finger.
“Guys, I don’t think the Captain is dying.”
As soon as the words left Ford’s lips, the bubble burst. They fell to the ground fast, the water underneath them being the only thing to protect them as it filled a deep ditch below, three bodies hitting the water and shortly resurfacing. Stan and Ford each put a hand under The Captain‘s shoulders and swam to the edge of the ditch, dragging him out. One eye opened slowly, and he stared towards the decaying town with blurred vision, glasses cracked and forgotten next to him, “Is… is this what Hell looks like?” He asked, head flopping into Ford’s lap,
“Sorry Cap, you’re on Earth. Welcome to the apocalypse.” He said, brushing his former clone’s hair out of his face. The Captain took a deep breath and coughed, sitting up slowly as he spoke, “So I’m not dead?” The twins shook their heads,
“Why’s my chest so heavy then?”
Stan leaned in, hand resting on the boy's chest, “That’d be a heart. You kinda need one to live. Thought you’d know that, being smart an’ all.”
The Captain put his hand where Stan’s once was, “I’m…alive?” He looked to the twins, and felt his breathing matter for once. Ford looked at him with a softness in his gaze, “Welcome to having a heart, have fun making all your own decisions, even the ones you don’t want to make.” The Captain stared at the sky, “I can make my own decisions?” He asked, not really needing a response. The twins scooted closer to him and held him tight, “What’ll it be then?” Stan’s voice was soft, and his tone made The Captain believe he already knew what his answer would be. He leaned into Stanford, cupped Stanley’s face, brought him close, and kissed him, salt from their tears lading on locked lips. They broke for air and he turned to Stanford, kneeling as he draped his arms around the other boy's neck, bringing their lips together. Something fluttered in his heart as they kissed, and the boy in front of him glowed like the sun when they parted, “This. I’ve decided I wanna kiss you both.”
Stan laughed, “So not our brother?”
“No, I wanna be that too. I can be both.”
Ford joined in the laughing, “Brothers don’t usually kiss like that…brothers don’t usually kiss.”
“Well considering I’ve only just become your brother, I think we can be something different.” The now youngest triplet smiled, falling back as his brothers held him close.
“You’ll need a name, can’t call you Ford, we already have one of them, and I don’t think you’d like that name, it smells.”
“Hey!”
“We could call you Stantwo?” Stan offered, snorting when the third brothers face scrunched in disgust, “I’m not being Stantwo. Why don’t I be Stan for now, and you can be Lee.”
Stanley pulled a face, “Why’re you taking my name?”
Ford thought as the two bickered, trying hard to think of something for their new brother, “Stanton!” He shouted, “Ma wanted to call Shermie that, so it’s like she picked the name. You like that one?” He looked forward, and Stanton smiled, “Ma picked it? So it’s like she picked it for me.” He kissed his brothers, “Stanton Pines..I love it.”
-
There’s a flash, a sword, an explosion. A voice shouts, “You’ll never leave this town!”
Another screams back, “I DON’T CARE, AS LONG AS YOU’RE DEAD!”