Work Text:
Stan woke up one early December morning, rolling out of bed with some loud grunts. He looked up at the top bunk where Ford slept. To Stan's surprise, Ford was actually in his bed, asleep. Ford almost always got up earlier than Stan, unless he got to bed late. Stan went to bed early the night before so he wasn't sure when Ford went to sleep.
Stan just shrugged and quietly made his way into the kitchen to start making breakfast. He went over to the radio on the counter top and flicked it on. He started humming along with the song as he put a frying pan on one of the burners with some eggs. He was trying his best to not make a lot of noise, but that was an almost impossible task for Stan.
After a while, the eggs were almost ready and he heard the familiar sound of someone jumping off the top bunk of their bed. He heard Ford slowly make his way down the hall and into the kitchen.
"Mornin' sunshine." Stan called out as Ford took a seat at the table.
Ford only gave a small hum in return. Ford by all means was a morning person, just not a pleasant one. So this wasn't unusual behavior for Ford.
"We're gonna have to go into town today, we're almost out of food." Stan told Ford as he plated the eggs. Ford gave a small nod and sniffled a bit. Stan heard the sniffle and looked over to his brother. That's when Stan noticed the dark circles under Ford's eyes, and the slight pink flushed across his cheeks. "Hey, you feelin' okay?" Stan asked.
"Yes, why do you ask?" Ford looked up more at Stan.
"You just don't usually sleep in."
Ford just shrugged without saying another word.
"Are you sure you're feelin' alright?" Stan asked again.
"Yes!" Ford sounded annoyed, but his voice sounded a bit heavier than normal, as if he were congested. Now that Stan got a better look, he could see how pale Ford was, and how he kept rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to calm down a splitting headache.
"Do you feel like you want to go into town today?" Stan asked as he switched off the stove.
"Mm, yes. I should be fine." Ford answered.
"Do you want some eggs?" Stan was starting to get suspicious when Ford didn't make himself some coffee.
"No, thank you."
"Aarrrre you going to get some coffee?"
"Not today."
Now Stan knew there was something wrong. "Could you just tell me what's wrong!?" Stan said somewhat harshly.
"there's nothing wrong. I just don't wish to have coffee today." Ford defended.
"Yeah, that doesn't sound like something is wrong at all." Stan rolled his eyes.
"I don't need your sarcasm." Ford huffed.
"Fine. i'll stop pesterin' you...for now."
Later, the twins headed into a small shopping mall to get the things they needed for the boat. Stan grabbed everything they needed as Ford held Stan's arm anxiously. They wandered like this for around an hour.
"You doin' okay?" Stan asked mostly for Ford's anxiety.
"Yes, i'm fine." Ford responded. Stan took a look at his brother and saw how pale he was getting.
"You don't look fine." Stan pointed out.
"I'm fine, Stanley."
Stan just sighed. "okay."
"I uhh...um c-could we find a r-restroom, please?" Ford stuttered out.
"Yeah, can I finish getting the beer first?" They were just a few aisles over from the beer, but the bathrooms were in the other direction.
Ford shook his head.
"Fine, I don't need ya pissin' yerself in the middle of the store." Stan's joke was ignored, making Stan look closer at his brother's behavior. Ford bit down on his lip, and he was fidgeting with the hand not holding onto Stan. Ford's behavior just looked like he was having an anxiety attack.
When they got to the bathrooms, Stan went in with Ford to try to help calm him, but Ford just went straight into a stall. Stan didn't think much of it since Ford never liked the idea of urinals. Everything just looked like normal Ford behavior, making Stan think he did just really have to piss.
Ford had anxiety over bathrooms and feeling cornered, so Stan stood with his back on the door of the stall so Ford knew he was safe. Until Stan heard the sound of Ford throwing up. Stan intently picked to lock and went inside. He closed the door behind him and set a gentle hand on his brother's back. Ford jumped a little, not expecting Stan's hand.
"shhhh, Buddy. It's okay. Just get it all out." Stan's voice was soft and comforting. Ford's whole body shook with each harsh retch. Stan kept whispering small comforts and rubbing soothing circles into Ford's back. After a few minutes, Ford's stomach seemed to finally calm down. Ford spat out the bitter taste in his mouth and flushed the toilet with a shaky hand. "You okay, Buddy?" Stan asked softly.
Ford groaned as he shook his head.
"aww, Buddy. C'Mon, let's getcha home."
Ford leaned himself heavily onto Stan as they walked out. Stan didn't finish the shopping, he just abandoned the squeaky wheeled cart in the middle of the store. Stan helped Ford all the way back to the boat.
Stan got Ford into their room and set him on the bottom bunk, not even bothering to try to get him on the top. once he got Ford into the bed, he left to get some supplies. When he returned, Ford was nowhere in sight. Stan looked around the room a bit before setting everything he got down on the bed and knocked on the bathroom door.
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
"You okay, Buddy?" Stan pressed his ear against the door.
"Yes." Ford responded quickly.
"Are you feelin' sick again?" Stan asked, not believing his brother.
As if on cue, Ford started retching into the toilet. "I'll take that as a, yes." Stan slowly opened the door in case Ford didn't want him to come in, but when Ford didn't seem at all disturbed, Stan went in completely. He saw a shaky Ford hunched over the toilet heaving. Stan crouched down next to his sick brother and placed a hand on his heaving shoulders, trying to bring him some comfort, but Ford's retches only got worse and worse. "Just relax, Bud. It's okay. I gotcha."
After some more comfort and time, Ford's stomach finally calmed down. He set his forehead down on the cold seat of the toilet, not caring how unhygienic it must be, but just caring how good the cold felt on his feverish head.
"C'Mon, I have a feeling yer not going to like that you put yer face on the toilet when yer a bit more lucid." Stan helped Ford to stand up and helped him back into the room and seated on the bed. He helped change Fords shirt and got him into more comfortable pants. "That better?" Stan brushed Ford's curls away from his sweaty forehead.
Ford nodded the best he could, looking so tired.
Stan set an empty bowl in front of his brother. "If yer gonna puke, do it in this. kay?"
Ford nodded again and went to lay down but was stopped by Stan.
"Ab ab ab! not yet." Stan held out some cherry flavored cold and flue medicine, and an anti-nausea pill.
With a small groan, Ford took the tiny cup and took the medicine like a shot, but he shook his head and took the bowl Stan had given him, vomiting up the very little he had left in his stomach.
"whoa, okay." Stan said surprised and put a hand on Ford's back.
This time, Ford only heaved a few times before picking up his head. "Sorry." Ford looked up at Stan, looking miserable.
"It's okay. why don't you try to take yer anti-nausea pill?" Stan handed it to his twin.
Ford took it from him and took it quickly. It decided to stay down, which was a relief. Stan wrapped a blanket around Ford's shoulders and laid him down in his arms. Ford intently buried his face in Stan's chest. He let out a content, little squeak noise.
"I love you, Lee."
Stan gave Ford's forehead a gentle kiss."I love you, too."
The next day was just as bad as the last. Ford woke up in Stan's arms. He felt safe, warm...nauseous. Ford shot upright and grabbed the bowl Stan set next to him. Stan woke up and sat up putting a lazy arm on his brother's back.
"you still feelin' like shit?" Stan said with a yawn.
"Language, Stanley."
"What? the kids ain't here. Now quite yer fussin' and answer the question. How are you feeling?"
Ford sighed. "Like shit."
"Oh, yer allowed to cuss?"
"I'm sick."
"Hows that fair?"
"life isn't fair."
Stan picked up the hand off of Ford's back and lightly flicked the back of his head.
"Ow!"
"You deserved that."
"Yeah. I kind of did."
Both Ford and Stan burst out in a fit of laughter that was shortly cut off by Ford retching into the bowl in his hands. Stan rubbed Fords back up and down offering small words of comfort that did little to nothing to help the situation. Once Ford's harsh heaving subsided, he set the bowl on the floor and returned to the comfort of Stan's arms, head slumped heavily on his pillow. Stan was immediately there to bring Ford close to him, but only for a minute or so before Stan looked at the clock.
"Shit!" Stan started getting up.
"Hm?" Ford hummed still holding on to Stan.
"You needed to take yer medicine an hour ago. That's probably why you feel so shitty right now. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I can just take it now." Ford loosened his grip on his brother.
"Okay. I'll go get it." Stan first cleaned out the bowl Ford just threw up in, in the bathroom before bringing it back to his brother. He then made his way to the medicine cabinet and poured out some of the thick syrup into the small cup. He also grabbed a bottle of water and some crackers before heading back.
When he got back in, he handed the small cup over to Ford and Ford took it like a shot again, then plopped his head back down on the pillow, face pinched in discomfort.
"you doin' okay, Bud?" Stan asked softly. He watched as a tear fell from Ford's eye, which made Stan panic slightly. "Hey, what's going on?"
"I'm sorry." Ford mumbled out.
"I'm gonna need more than that to work with, Buddy."
"I-i-i was awful to you for so long. Y-y-you spent thirty years trying to get m-me back just for you to now have to take care of me. I'm sorry. I don't deserve your kindness."
"Hey, hey, hey. I didn't spend thirty years trying to getcha back to watch you suffer alone. I spent thirty years trying to save you, so we could have these moments. So we could both have this. While this might not be the most ideal situation for either of us, my point still stands. I love you, I want to take care of you, and nothin' will change that."
Ford looked up at Stan. God he looked so tired. "Thank you." Ford said, half through a sob. Stan wrapped Ford sadly in his arms.
"Any time, but why didn't you tell me you were sick?"
"I thought I would be okay. I didn't want to be a burden."
"Aw, Buddy. You could never be a burden to me."
Ford nuzzled the side of his face into Stan's chest. "Okay."
"get some rest, Dork. I love you."
"I love you, too." Ford mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.