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Summary
Their eyes meet and lock when Stan stops just short of resting his forehead against Ford’s, his hand coming up to grip at Ford’s wrist.
“Hey, hey. Don’t clam up on me there, Sixer.” He starts, voice surprisingly soft and his skin unexpectedly warm as his thumb rubs absentmindedly against Ford’s skin. “Whatever you’ve got to say ya know I’m here, right? I know I’m reckless and stupid sometimes and I don’t always listen, but I’m listenin’ right now.”
