Chapter Text
Colors spun around him as Sonar was shot through the worm hole, traveling faster than he could comprehend to someplace on Earth, he just hoped it would spit him out somewhere convenient…
Sonar was a 16 year old boy, though he looked 14. He had a gaunt face with an even thinner body, his skin pale and sickly. Typically he was seasoned in dirt or soot, but not today. He wore a thick and woven sweater with sewn-in hidden pockets, and pants two sizes too big but cinched around his belt with twine. His shoes were similar to sneakers but had no shoelace and a thick and grippy rubber sole. Both his sweater and pants had been torn open from time to time and sewn back together with scrap fabric. They didn’t match at all, and were both the muddy colors of natural fibers. Some of the patches had a faint hint of color, but they were still desaturated to the Milky Way and back. His hair was long and rather tangled, matted at the ends, which sported an unnatural yellow in spite of his brown roots. The natural blush on his face seemed to pool at his nose and ears, the former of which was a prominent Roman shape. His eyes had the same inhuman color as the tips of his hair, with the pupil of a cat inside which dilated just as dramatically.
Sonar found himself lying face-down on something soft by the time he’d come to his senses. When he slowly lifted his head, he found the ground green, with small plants all over. Grass. Sonar gently wafted his hand over the blades as he reveled in the feeling. Despite falling flat on his face and most likely bruising something, Sonar could help but brightly smile and begin to laugh. Sitting up, he looked around to see tall pine trees, a good sign. The forest around him was asleep, the only sounds being the buzzing of summer’s crickets and the few stragglers getting to bed. Sonar was perched atop a hill, and looked up to see a town in the valley below him. Above it was a landbridge, its middle barely intact with two large and strange pointed gaps in each cliff’s side. Sonar patted his back and began to panic when there was no bag on his shoulders, and noticed it had fallen a couple feet away from him. It was a simple fabric, dyed a light green, with a leather strap to make it a messenger bag. Inside, he pulled out a frayed, old, dirtied and partly torn post card and held it up to the valley for comparison. GRAVITY FALLS, OREGON, it read. And once Sonar pulled it away from his vision, he smiled. He was really in Gravity Falls.
Down below the town was sleeping, and all across the residential area lights were dying as fireflies began to pepper the land. The thick woods were painting the surrounding hills, framing the little shack at the end of a long dirt road. The Mystery Shack stood tall in the crowd of trees, like a beacon of light for a stuttering moth. Sonar curiously began to look around. He felt the rough trees, knelt down and carded through and pulled at the grass. He giggled at the sensation, then grabbing a rock and marveling at its weight. The Earth was so new to him, like a newborn let out into the world.
Sonar had spent the last four years of his life in the Nightmare Realm. An empty place without living plants besides the bare minimum of wheat and a handful of other resilient seeds. The ground was dry and dead, the sky a hazy grey. Day and night had no meaning to a world with more suns than anyone could count. They were like stars up in the sky, but so far away that their light only illuminated the smog above. The people there were even worse, but Sonar didn’t even want to think about it. It hurt. He had lived there with his father, none other than Bill Cipher. But there was no nepotism in his future, make no mistake. Sonar was hated by his father, and his other parent didn’t know he existed. However, the only benefit of this predicament was that he had inherited his father’s powers and ability. But nothing came easy to him, and the catch was that his human body couldn’t handle such power. It’d overheat like a cheap laptop trying to run two tabs at once— the horror.
That first sunset was glorious. Beautiful colors, brighter than anything he’d seen in the sky. It was blinding, and Sonar wanted to soak it in. But once night had set in and the world disappeared around him, he grew anxious and began to wander around for shelter. Caves were too nerve wracking to investigate and the trees only serves to obscure his view of predators further— he’d watched nature documentaries on the things in these lands— and began to feel rather hopeless. That was, however, until after tripping over a root he came across an abandoned hunting shack. Characterized as such by the deer antlers over the door.
It had once been a wonderful home, he was sure of that. The foundation was solid and the wood seemed to have once been high quality, but over the years it had rotted and withered. Now, it was a husk of its former glory. The roof was half caved in, the wood had attracted mold, the floor boards were as bloated as a corpse, and the windows were either dirtied beyond visibility or broken in. He couldn’t explore the basement beneath, however, as it was blocked by a thick chain and sturdy lock. The furniture inside was weathered and frayed with a mostly dirt carpet. The entrance was a large living room, the one beside it a kitchen with a broken and wood table with three chairs. And down the hall were two bedrooms of similar, poor condition.
“Two bedrooms…. hm…” he mused, looking around slowly. On his walk there the fever had set in, a side effect of using his supernatural power to get to Earth in the first place. Of which he had used far too much of. Sonar wandered from one room to the other, trying to access the quality of each one. Only to pass out trying to decide in the hallway.
“Eugh…” Sonar groaned as he woke, his brows furrowed and his gaze foggy. The world around him seemed to spin as his body overheated, staggering to his feet. He needed food, needed rest. “Maybe… the town will have supplies. Ooh! Who am I kidding? T-They’d know what I am in a heartbeat!” Despite the outdated alien movies he’d watched, Sonar was not an expert in humanity. He was only half human, and he wasn’t very socialized. “I’m in no condition to hunt, am I…? Ugghhh… I should wait until evening. Maybe I can find some trash to dig through.”
“Why are these people still out?” Sonar whispered to himself, crouched in some nearby bushes. It was hours later, and it was dark again. There was a small group of kids by a store of some kind. What it sold, Sonar didn’t know as he unfortunately couldn’t read very well. He could read fluently in his native tongue, Common Galactic, but English was not well known outside of a handful of Earth nations and beings who could mimic any language. But those were few and far between in the wild.
The world around him was calm and quiet, the only noise being those of creatures in the woods behind him, the three kids in front of him, and the buzz of a street lamp. It was the one thing illuminating the road and store, which— given the fact one of the kids seemed to be eating chips— Sonar hoped had thrown out food. The front was simple and quite bright, with “24/7” in a bright, neon sign above the door. Thankfully, the three kids wandered off soon enough as Sonar slowly emerged from the bushes to scurry across the road. Right, Sonar thought, looking to the right. Left… No cars. I am clear to cross… He didn’t move, his hands clenching slightly with a nervous wash of sweat. Just because cars are giant metal beats hurtling down the road at top speeds does not mean you have to fear them. You have survived in deadlier conditions far longer, just… walk! Sonar sprinted across the road with a frightened yelp, pausing once he was across to the other side to look back. A car passed him 30 seconds later. It was going rather slow, thankfully, but not slow enough to soothe a teen who’d never physically seen one.
“Ignore the car!” Sonar said to himself quietly, turning back around towards the store to walk off into its alleyway. The dumpster nearby was rather full as Sonar hoisted himself up to peer into. Chips were piled in one corner, little protein bars in the other, meat sticks, packaged noodles, and all other sorts of treats. He jumped down into the metal box, stepping on full bags and other slop to reach what would soon be his treasure. Sonar stuffed primarily meat sticks into his pockets, then bars and noodles (not realizing he needed hot water to make them). When he stood up from his goblin-like stance, he was reminded of his fever and stumbled slightly, bumping into the dumpster’s wall and grabbing onto it for stability. “Stupid fever… stupid…” he mumbled quietly, huffing before slowly climbing out of the bin.
Another frightening dash across an empty road later, and Sonar was returning home. However, as he walked, his chest was pressed with a heavy paranoia. He took a slow breath out, quietly reminding himself, “You’re just a regular guy in a regular dimension. No one’s following you… No one even knows you’re here. You’re alright.”
Home at last, Sonar emptied the pockets of his sweater and pants onto a cleaner part of the floor. Not clean, but cleaner than other sections. “Cipher, I’m hungry,” Sonar mumbled, his old profanity still following him to this new world. He tore open the noodle packet and took a hearty bite before coughing up the chicken-flavor powder like a dumb little kid eating cinnamon. “Ack—! W-What in the Nightmare is this?! I can see why they threw it out, it’s disgusting…” he held up the beef jerky with a nervous look, “At least this one looks a little more familiar…” He paused and stared at the plastic packaging. He had packaging back home— more accurately, back in his old home— but nothing so clear and tough. Sonar saw the word ‘pull’ and grabbed at it, struggling. “Damn you!” He ripped it open with his teeth and a growl, spitting out the plastic. His head and stomach were killing him, as he eagerly bit into the jerky to escape it. He froze. Sonar had never tasted something so… so… flavorful. His eyes lit up in delight as the combined efforts of whatever marinade made this, and the gift of time, made him squeal with the joy of not only discovery, but good food. Suddenly, the sinking feeling in not only his weak stomach but chest didn’t seem to matter anymore. Nothing could ruin this moment, not even the giggling from the nearby— The what? Sonar thought, sharply turning to stare down whatever was laughing at him as he slowly approached. He reached down toward the source of the noise: behind the cabin’s barely-hanging-on door. He reached for his pocket knife. He couldn’t bring his supplies with him, nor any bag at all. But he could keep his knife, as it was sleek enough to stay flush to his body in its holster. All that’s important to know now was that it was large and sharp, brandished in a saber grip and ready to strike. But when he threw back the door to reveal a girl his age, his stoic and hardened face faltered in confusion.
“Don’t kill us!” she yelled. The girl wore black clothes, specifically a layered dress with a matching, black corset. She had thick and curly hair which bounced out in all directions, each one undefined and frizzy. Silver jewelry covered her chest and ears, some even on her wrist, sporting symbols Sonar did not recognize. She had impractical big black boots with their own silver dressings, with skin-toned stockings underneath. Her face appeared pale and dead, with a black lip and dark lines around her eyes, the lashes of which were rather wispy.
Sonar paused and tilted his head, “Kill you?” Then he recalled the fact he was brandishing a knife and clarified, “This is for defense of the self! A-And who are ‘us’?”
“Well, you’re like an alien, right?”
“No!” Sonar shouted, his cheeks reddening in the fluster. His first ever interaction with a human, and he was already exposed as inhumane… “I am a normal teenager!”
“See, when you say it like that, I’m inclined not to believe you,” the girl slowly replied, her face sporting a kind of empathetic look to it.
“Why would the way I say it change the meaning? That is stupid,” Sonar replied. He thought with full certainty that he was speaking perfect English, but actually interacting with a human was a completely different story.
“Dude, you ate a cup noodle like an apple and choked on the dust,” she replied, her voice gentle, like she was explaining something obvious to a little kid. “A cup noodle which you took from a dumpster to an abandoned shack in the dead of night.”
“You never answered my question, are there more of you?”
“Y-Yeah—”
“Lynn!” one voice chided from across the room, coming from behind a bush outside a smashed out window. A boy with long, dirty blonde hair stood up, crossing his arms with a disappointed frown. He looked older than Lynn, old enough to drink, and had thin facial hair in a Van Dyke esc shape. He wore a dirty, green shirt, which sported a monochrome picture of three people with strange devices. Devices which Sonar would someday learn were called instruments, and people who were known as the members of a band called Nirvana. He had long blue jeans which slumped lazily against his sneakers, the backs of which were worn down with use. He had on a jean jacket covered in pins and patches Sonar couldn’t have even dreamed of. “You were supposed to not rat on us.”
“I know, I know, but I got nervous!” Lynn replied defensively, her voice squeaky and frightened.
“How do you know I am alien?” Sonar demanded, his nose scrunching up in a snarl.
“I told you! The cup noodle thing!” Lynn replied, “And you’re a random kid in really strange clothes in a town where people don’t just show up. Everyone knows everyone here.”
“M-My outfit is very normal!”
The man chuckled and quietly replied, “Dude, no it is not.”.
“This is not funny!” Sonar squeaked out, completely flustered.
“Not to mention your eyes,” Lynn added, now close enough to see them, “They look crazy wicked by the way.”
Sonar paused to quietly ask, “W-What? Like, evil?”
“No, like cool,” the man replied, walking from his spot in the bush over to Lynn as Sonar slowly seethed his knife, “It’s like a cat’s eye, it’s really awesome! Henry! Come check this out.”
A younger boy, not as old as the still-nameless one but older than Lynn. He had a nervous look on his face with a twig in his hair as he popped up out of the brush. He had short black hair with a nice button up shirt under his blue cashmere sweater. His pants were simple grey trousers. Freckles peppered his cheeks and arms, and he had thin-rimmed glasses on his face. “U-Uhm— I don’t really want to uh… come closer to the alien.”
“This is awesome, like ET!” Lynn exclaimed.
“What is an ET?” Sonar mumbled.
“It’s this really cool movie,” Lynn replied, “Connor has a copy—”
“Wait, why are you all not afraid of me?”
Connor shrugged, “Eh, you’re kinda just not that intimidating. I mean… you’re just so skinny, little dude.”
“L-Little?”
“And you speak with that strange accent,” Lynn continued.
“I do not have a—-”
“Also you speak uh rather unnaturally,” Henry added, adjusting his glasses sheepishly, “You said do not instead of combining them to make the contraction of, ‘don’t’.”
Sonar blushed heavily, slowly putting his head down, “I suck at this…”
Lynn smiled brightly, seeing the opportunity of a lifetime. Who could say they’d helped an alien phone home? She could, soon enough! “Don’t worry, we’ll help you do whatever it is you’re here to do.”
“Look, take no offense, but I do not want your help,” Sonar mumbled with a shrug, pausing to put his hand slightly over his mouth, “I just… j-just…” He suddenly sprinted to the nearby open window and hurled out into the bushes. Lynn, Connor, and Henry all cringed or winced.
“Dude, are you ok?” Connor asked, cautiously approaching before gently lifting Sonar’s hair out of his face.
Sonar groaned, holding his light head and mumbling, “Fever… i-it’s nothing.”
“If you stay in the wilderness with a fever, you’re going to take far longer to heal than you would’ve. Or you’re gonna die,” Henry pointed out.
Sonar cringed slightly, “Y-You are just trying to scare me.”
“I can assure you, we’re not,” Connor replied, slowly setting a hand on Sonar’s shoulder to guide him away from the window and cabin. There was a concerned glint in his eye, like a wild animal caring for another’s young. “C’mon, you can stay at my place for the night.”
“W-Wait, but I—” Sonar stammered as they slowly began to chat amongst themselves again, Sonar’s voice disappearing into the background. As he looked around at the trio surrounding him, Sonar found himself with an odd feeling in his stomach. It was strange and almost nerve racking unto itself, but after a few moments, Sonar found it soothing. They reminded him of a group he’d stayed with for a few months in his old home. As they took Sonar to Connor’s ‘place,’ which Sonar assumed meant home, he quietly spoke up to ask, “Was it really that obvious I was not human?” The question had been weighing on him for a little bit, and he wanted an answer.
Henry shrugged, “Well, we saw you come out of the bushes and thought it was strange, followed you, and Lynn came up with the crazy idea since that’s just what our mind gravitate towards.”
“We’re freak weirdos is what he means,” Connor added with a snicker and a laugh, “I don’t think anyone else will know you’re an alien, we just got lucky.”
“W-Well do not do that again. I did not like it.”
Connor smiled and replied, “Alright, alright. No luck, got it.”
Connor’s home was a one story house with dirty siding and a concrete porch, its fencing and roof all thin metal. A couch was on it with cushions thinned with age and use, and it all smelt rather strange to Sonar. His nose scrunched up at it as he looked around. The carpet was beige and permeated throughout the whole house, the furniture was simple and primarily either older or clearly thrifted if it was newer. Little handcrafted trinkets covered every surface, and some even hung from the window sills and walls. They mimicked stained glass windows, or were simply just drawings, or tiny air-dry-clay sculptures of all kinds of things. As Connor opened up his door, Sonar was hit with a wall of that smell again. The four heard tiny thudding coming from the hallway as a German shepherd sprinted down the hall and towards Connor, who knelt down and eagerly greeted it with cooing and open arms.
“Hi, Stacy,” Lynn greeted, kneeling down as the dog panted and rammed into Lynn for affection next.
‘You have a dog?!” Sonar exclaimed, his jaw dropped, “I thought that was a lie!”
Connor chuckled and replied, “Yeah, I named her Stacy. You wanna meet her? She’s a sweetheart, honest.” Sonar paused and slowly knelt down to greet the fluffy dog, who abandoned Lynn’s face and darted towards Sonar. He flinched and held the dog back just before it could get to him, as Stancy’s panting began to turn into whining. She pushed back against Sonar’s outstretched arms, pushing him back as Connor laughed and said, “It’s safe, alien-dude. You just gotta trust us.”
“I literally have no reason to…” Sonar quietly reminded them.
“Stacy, sit,” Connor said, as the dog politely took a seat with a smiling face.
Sonar paused and slowly shuffled over, his eyes wide with curiosity, anxiety, and amazement. Gently, he copied what Connor and Lynn had been doing earlier, and reached out to pet the beast. She is so soft! Sonar thought, as all that came out from his scrunched up and clearly in love face was a drawn out, “Awwwww!”
The rest of the group laughed as Sonar cooed and grabbed at Stacy’s chest fluff, who took the laughter and cooing as a cue to get up and smother Sonar. He yelped as he was tackled to the ground, covering his face like Stacy’s licking would kill him. She whined, pawing slightly at Sonar to get her face under his hand. “Give him room, girl,” Connor said, gently pushing Stacy away from her new friend to give Sonar space, “Sorry about that, she gets—”
“I love her!” Sonar suddenly exclaimed with a bright and eager smile, holding his arms out again to prompt Stacy she was going to get affection as she barreled towards him. Luckily, she didn’t quite tackle him like she had before, and instead Sonar got to hug and pet the walking pillow. “You are a cloud! A brown and black cloud!”
The group laughed at Sonar’s comparison, Connor taking the time to press the back of his hand to Sonar’s forehead while he was distracted. “Yeesh, that’s a bad fever… What’s your name?”
“Oh, uh— Sonar.” Connor shrugged and grabbed a nearby blanket to toss over his living room couch. Sonar furrowed his brows, still petting Stacy, to ask, “Why are you helping me? I mean… I could be here to destroy your world. Kill everyone.”
“Are you?” Lynn asked.
“N-No… but I am just saying, you are not very smart for letting in a stranger who is not even your species,” Sonar mumbled.
Henry crossed his arms, leaning on the nearby counter top in the kitchen, “Hear, hear…”
“I am here?” Sonar asked, his brows knit.
“It’s a saying, you’ll get used to it,” Lynn interrupted as Henry was about to speak, scooting closer next to Sonar on the floor, “What are you here for?”
“U-Uh— I am not from this planet but I am human. Half. The other half you do not know,” Sonar replied, about to speak again before Henry interjected.
“I’m sorry— would you please try to use conjunctions?” he asked with a scrunched up face.
Lynn shrugged as Sonar curiously looked at him, “Henry’s picky with the kind of stuff, grammar mostly. It’s a compulsion.”
“What is a conjunction?”
“When you have ‘can’ or ‘do’ next to not, you turn it into ‘can’t’ or ‘don’t’,” Henry explained, “As well as ‘I am’ becoming ‘I’m’. ‘Will not’ into ‘won’t’ and ‘could not’ into ‘couldn’t’. I’ll help you along the way.”
“Uhh— Okay, my dad is—”
“Dad’s.”
“My dad’s in Gravity Falls. My human dad,” Sonar replied, fidgeting, “I want to make sure he is— h-he’s okay. Did I do that right?” Henry nodded with a smile.
“See? No one’s gonna know you’re not human. You sound human already!” Lynn said, leaning forward, “Anyway. Who’s your dad?”
“My dad is a scientist living in the woods,” Sonar explained as Stacy flopped down into his lap, who he’d been petting the entire time. “His name is Stanford Filbrick Pines, and—”
“Is that the dude that made the giant house mech?” Connor asked.
Lynn shook her head, “No, that was McGucket.”
“House mech?” Sonar asked with concerned brows.
“Mech is short for mechanical, like a robot,” Henry added before Lynn continued to speak.
“Yeah, there was this apocalypse a couple months ago—”
“Excuse me?!”
“And this triangle demon named Bill Cipher came down to take over the world,” she leaned back onto her hand, “I don’t really remember what happened, I was a statue.”
Sonar’s face was pale and drenched in shock and horror. Connor too got a look of nerves as he realized, “Dudes, he’s gonna puke again!” before shoving the living room’s trash bucket into Sonar’s lap and overtop Stacy’s face. Sonar did in fact hurl into the bucket as Stacy whimpered and quickly got up.
“An apocalypse?! B-Bill— When was this?!” he shouted.
Henry’s face turned nervous and almost frightened. “Do you know him?”
“Yeah I know him! He’s my fucking father!”
“WHAT?” Lynn cried.
“Okay— Ooookay,” Connor quietly interjected, putting his hands up placantingly, “Let’s just all stop yelling. I get that I have no neighbors, but still.”
Stacy sniffed Sonar and his bucket out of concern. Sonar gently tried to push her away with a queasy expression, “L-Look, I have two fathers and no mother. Do n— Don’t ask, because I don’t know. One of them is Bill Cipher and the other is Stanford Pines.”
“Oh my goodness,” Henry mumbled, running a hand down his face, “Does Stanford know you’re here?”
Sonar fidgeted and set the trashcan aside, letting Stacy nuzzle into him again as he pet her and slowly mumbled, “N… Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?” Connor asked.
“It means he uhh doesn’t know he is even a father at all,” Sonar mumbled, his voice slowly rising in nerves as he shrugged.
“Sonar, I’m failing to see the point in doing any of this,” Henry replied quietly.
Sonar shrugged with a worried look, holding Stacy tighter, “I was made without Ford’s knowing. I just want to know he’s okay, and… a-and live here with no issues.”
“Is that it? You don’t like… want to know your father?” Lynn asked, raising a brow in confusion.
“Uh… The issue is that he would n— wouldn’t want to know me,” Sonar replied, carding through Stacy’s thick fur, “Would the number first Bill-hater want a teenager who is half Bill?”
“Eh… While I understand the second reason, I don’t think there’s enough evidence to substantiate the first,” Henry mumbled, setting a hand on his chin, “We don’t know why Dr. Pines doesn’t have a child already. Maybe it was just life circumstances.”
“Still, I feel like he’d have found a way by now,” Sonar mumbled as Connor and Glinda exchanged a look between each other. “But that doesn’t change the fact that knowing about me would hurt him. He and Bill have a specific history that he would not want to revisit for a random kid he doesn’t know.”
“What happened between them? I mean, I get Bill’s a terrible terrible person, but what’s up with that?” Lynn asked, reaching forward to idly pet Stacy whose head was back in Sonar’s lap.
Sonar cringed and mumbled quietly, “He uh… I don’t know the word for it, but when someone takes control of another person’s body.”
“Posession?” Lynn asked, a little too eager. “Bill possessed your other dad?”
Sonar nodded solemnly, “He possessed Stanford, and abused him. Bill also tricked him into making a portal so he could take over the world. But it appears like that has already almost happened. How did they stop it?”
“Stan, Stanford’s twin I think, who was posing as Stanford to trick Bill and then wipe his mind with Bill still inside,” Connor replied, sitting down beside Sonar.
“What?!” Sonar exclaimed, his brows knit in concern, “I-Is Stanley okay?”
“I’m not really sure, I don’t go around the place much.”
“I do!” Lynn exclaimed, “Well, I have sometimes. But a new guy runs the place now, Soos is his name I think. He’s like an honorary Pines.” Sonar’s expression tensed slightly. “It’s pretty cool. Anyway, he runs the place and Stan hovers around like a helicopter dad sometimes, and he seems to be fuzzy in the head but doing just fine.”
Sonar nodded, “A-And Stanford?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t see him around a lot… but he’s just put out a job application for an assistant.”
“Really?!” Sonar exclaimed, sitting up eagerly as Stacy too sat up, looking up at him curiously.
Lynn giggled, nodding as Connor interjected. “You shouldn’t go to a job interview all feverish. Even if it’s fall, the cold doesn’t cancel out the heat.”
“Uuughhh—”
“Don’t make this difficult, Sonar,” Connor chided, raising his brows, “I’m not letting what looks like a 14 year old kid run wild in the world.”
“I’m 16, actually,” Sonar mumbled, “But what if someone takes the job before I can?”
“You can always try to get hired at the shack instead, besides, I thought you were just going to check on him,” Connor replied, gently beginning to try to coax Sonar onto his couch but picking him up by his arms.
“H-Hey!”
“Now just rest off your fever and shut up.”
“You can’t just—” Sonar grunted as he was shoved onto the couch as Henry moved to get out of his way, a blanket soon thrown over Sonar, “oof!”
“I can and I did,” Connor replied, “Think about it, he probably doesn’t want some random teenager with no credentials and who doesn’t even know what a conjunction is. It’s better that you rest instead of trying to kill yourself getting there.”
The couch was soft, much softer than anything Sonar had slept on in the past forever. And while a good rule of thumb is ‘don’t fall asleep in a stranger’s home,’ Sonar didn’t really care about survival tips when he could curl up under a warm blanket in a warm home on a soft cushion. “B-But…” he let out a heavy sigh, “Nevermind…”
“Atta-alien,” Connor chuckled, getting up for a moment before returning with a damp rag, “Sorry it probably smells like weed. But, it should feel pretty good on that head of yours.”
“Yeeah,” Sonar mumbled, his exhaustion hitting him all at once as his face was suddenly washed with a soothing chilled touch.
“We probably shouldn’t call him ‘alien,’ he has a name,” Henry mumbled, standing over Sonar as Lynn joined them in the strange staring.
“Don’t stare at me like that either… creepy…” Sonar mumbled very quietly, his eyes fluttering and heavy.
Lynn smiled as the others nodded and did as they were told, chuckling, “Alright, but don’t be afraid to call for Connor if you need anything. He has a pretty stupid stay at home job, I’m sure he’d like to feel helpful every now and again.”
“Huh…?” Sonar mumbled as Connor began to bicker with Lynn, who wandered off to continue to get under his skin. Through the snipping and the arguing, Sonar yawned and slowly began to doze off under the comforting blanket. There was a strange sense of trust among the four of them. The humans clearly seemed to know each other from before this stalking-turned-charity situation happened. Sonar wasn’t really sure why he’d been so… truthful. Usually he lied his ass off about everything, but maybe the fever and shock of all the news he’d gotten was too much, and he just blurted everything out. And now he was falling asleep in a stranger’s home on their couch. He’d lost his edge, hadn’t he?
Suddenly, Sonar’s sleep was interrupted as a shock spread through his system and he quickly sat up and water dribbled off his face. Connor was nearby, awkwardly holding a glass of water with a chuckle, “Hey, buddy…”
Sonar paused and looked down at himself curiously, “W-Why am I drenched with water…?”
“So, you’ve been asleep for 14 hours,” Connor opened with as Sonar noticed the daylight shining through the window, “and you have a fever so you’re sweating and losing water and stuff, so I got a little nervous. I was trying to feed you water but I kinda spilt it… everywhere.”
It turned out Sonar had nothing to be worried about. It was hard to believe someone so clumsy could be a threat. “Oh, uh…” Sonar replied, still half asleep and groggily wiping the water off his face, “It is okay, I’m not hurt.”
“Here, let me get a towel and some clothes for you…”
Sonar felt a little silly as Connor smooshed his face with the dry towel and then coaxed him out of his makeshift bed to grab the blanket and toss it aside. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, you can change there.”
Sonar paused, his eyes hanging heavily as he tried to wake up and did so on the way down the hall. He curiously looked through the bathroom, tilting his head at the brand new oddities and strange appliances. He looked down at the clothes tossed at him, all far too big but will have to do. when he emerged in baggy sweatpants— the drawstrings pulled extremely taut— and a dress-like tee, Connor couldn’t help but snicker. Sonar blushed sheepishly and mumbled, “Don’t you have like… any older clothes?”
“Dude, I've been this tall for years now,” he replied, shrugging, “You still have a few years of growing in you.”
“How old are you?”
“21.”
“Oh,” Sonar mumbled.
Connor stood up as Sonar noticed his new appearance. He had his own pjs on with sweatpants and a different t-shirt, his hair tied up in a bun as one stray hair stayed upright at the crest of his widow’s peak. “C’mere, lemme see that fever,” he said, setting the back of one of his hands on Sonar’s forehead, and then both on his cheeks, “Better, but not good.”
“Sonar!” Lynn’s voice suddenly shouted as she came into Connor’s house completely unannounced.
“Care to knock?” Connor asked, no true malice in his tone.
She held up a thick stack of plain papers, the only things on them being a couple paragraphs of text. “I stole all the job listings!”
“W-Wha…?”
“Think about it,” she continued, coming up to Sonar eagerly, “If no one qualified for the job finds it, they can’t take it from you.”
Sonar smiled brightly as he took the stack, reading over the needed credentials (none of which he had) and where to apply. Luckily, Ford was still refusing to move to digital job listings, and required all applicants to come to him in person and bring a printed resume. Another stroke of luck was the fact Ford hadn’t made it look exciting whatsoever, and the page was a white word document printed out. Even if it was posted on a good college’s corkboard, it’s most likely be passed over for other opportunities or dismissed as a notice. “H-How did you find all these?” he asked with a chuckle.
“I asked Henry where all the nerds hung out and he pointed me in all the right directions,” Lynn explained, “And even if we didn’t get all of them, no one’s gonna want to sign up to this thing.”
“T-This is incredible,” Sonar mumbled as Connor took the papers from his hands.
“Which means you can spend a couple hours resting,” Conner interjected.
Sonar sighed heavily, his expression evidently displeased, “What is it with you and this fever? I’ve gone out hunting with way worse of injury.”
Connor paused as his face scrunched up in concern, “Uh… That’s not something you could be proud of, dude. And I’m on your cause cause a fever is serious business. Now get back on the couch, just on the other side to avoid the water.”
Sonar knew this wasn’t a battle he was ready to fight… mostly because he wanted nothing more than to lay on the couch all day and sleep. It seemed exhaustion was actually a strong force when you weren’t in danger, and Sonar was feeling the brunt of it. “Fine…”
“Besides, the shack isn’t open on Sundays,” Connor replied, “But first thing tomorrow morning, we can coach you and send you off on your merry way, sound good?”
Sonar nodded, “Yeah.”