This is loosely based off a headcanon I've read that Ford suffers from PTSD and frequent nightmares resulting from his time spent dimension hopping and being possessed by Bill.

This is my first time writing for the Stan twins so please forgive me if anything is OOC.

Stan and Ford belong to Gravity Falls andGravity Falls belongs to the amazing Alex Hirsch.

Enjoy~!

Stanley Pines lay awake in his bed staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the howling winds outside the Mystery Shack. His mind was racing again as it had been the past few days ever since he had succeeded in fixing the portal and bringing back his long lost twin brother, Stanford.

Sadly however, the reunion was not as cheery and warm hearted as he had hoped it would be. Literally the first time the Stan twins have seen each other in thirty years and the first reaction from Ford? Punch Stanley in the face when he goes in for a hug.

Since then, things have been a bit...tense, between the elder twins. Both of them still angry at each other for their long unresolved issues. At least on the plus side, Dipper and Mabel seemed to be getting along with the dimension travelling man; especially Dipper.

Stanley groaned and rolled over, snatching his glasses off the night table and glaring at the alarm clock. 2:33 AM.

He had been awake for nearly three hours, having gone to bed at 10:00 and waking up around midnight and tossing and turning since then, trying to go back to sleep but the Sandman seemed to have abandoned him this night.

The old man let out a heavy sigh and sat up, his aging joints cracking with protest. He pushed the covers off him and swung his thin legs over the side of the bed, stuffing his barefeet into his pink fuzzy slippers. If he couldn't sleep, might as well get out of bed.

As quietly as he could, Stan shuffled down the hall being careful not to make too much noise that would alert his great niece and nephew.

Now that he was awake? What could he do? Stan thought about it for a moment before deciding that the best way to distract his overthinking mind was to watch some television. Yeah. That's what he'd do. Mabel had recorded a new episode of Ducktective and he hadn't had a chance to watch it yet, what with Ford's return and all. Yeah. He'll go to the den, watch his show then maybe, just maybe he can go back to bed for a bit.

As Stanley rounded the corner to go to the den, he paused as he passed the door that lead down to the basement where Ford had been hiding away most of the time since his arrival. Stanley couldn't exactly explain what it was that made him stop. He just...had some sort of gut feeling that he needed to go down there.

Stanley shook his head and took a few steps away from the door but the feeling only grew more intense. Why was he feeling like this? Exhaustion. Yes. He was overly tired and over thinking things and he was beginning to get paranoid.

With a huff, Stanley forced himself to continue forward to the den. All he needed was a couple minutes to watch the dumb kids show and turn his brain off. Nothing was going on in the basement. Ford was asleep, as was everyone else in the house.

The old man finally made it to the den and switched on a table lamp, grabbed the tv remote off of the T-Rex skull and plopped down in his beloved yellow chair. With the push of a few buttons, the television was on and the opening credits for Ducktective were flashing across the screen. Stanley felt a small relaxed smile pull at his lips as he stared at the screen. Yes. This will do just nicely.

However, the peaceful feeling did not last long for the nagging feeling Stan felt earlier at the basement was still persistent, sitting in the back of his mind. Stanley scowled and tried to ignore the feeling and instead focused on the plot of the episode.

The feeling wouldn't leave. It wouldn't even diminish. Instead, it only grew stronger and louder. Practically screaming at him to go to the basement.

With an annoyed groan, Stan relented, switching off the tv and he stood up and stormed over to the basement. Nothing was in the basement. Stanley told himself he would check then go back to bed. He was tired and cranky and the annoying nagging feeling put him in a bad mood.

When he reached the basement, Stanley paused and slowly turned the doorknob as quietly as he could and opened the door, poking his head inside.

Absolutely nothing.

"Your losing you're mind, Stan." Stan thought as he pulled his head out and went to shut the door only to be stopped when he heard something.

Was that...a whimper?

Stanley paused, the door half open and he listened intently. Another one.

Stanley's annoyance was suddenly gone and instead replaced with a feeling of concern and worry. Was...was that Ford making the noise?

Without even realizing what he was doing, Stanley found himself walking down the creaky stairs. The noises were getting louder and more distressed sounding with each step he took.

"Ford?"

He got to the bottom of the stairs and looked over to the couch in the far corner of the room. There, laying on the couch was Stanford who was tossing and turning on the couch, the blanket getting tangled around his body. His breathing was eratic and sweat covered his flesh. His large, six fingered calloused hands clenching the couch and blanket in a death grip.

"No...No!...Stay away from me! Stay away!"

"Oh boy." Stan mumbled, realizing his brother was suffering from some sort of nightmare. The old man hurried over to the distressed twin and shoot his shoulder. "Hey, Ford. Wake up will ya? You're having a nightmare. Hey! Wake up-"

His sentence was cut off as Ford suddenly rolled around and Stanley felt a sharp pain in his cheek as Ford's hand came in contact with it. The slipper wearing man let out a yelp of surprise and pain as he stumbled back rubbing his sore cheek. "Why you little-!"

Ford's eyes instantly snapped themselves open and his body jackknifed itself into a sitting position. He gasped for breath as his frantic heartbeating returned to normal. A hand made its way up to his stinging cheek and he blinked, turning his head to see his twin, much to his surprise and confusion. "Stanley?"

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." Stan grumbled dryly, crossing his arms. Stanford blinks a couple of times trying to get his bearings. His genius mind began to register his surroundings. He was in the basement of his home. He wasn't hoping from one dimension to another. He was speaking to his estranged twin.

And there was a sharp stinging pain in his cheek.

"What...what happened?" Ford asked rubbing his cheek. "And why does my cheek hurt?"

Stanley shrugged. "You were having a nightmare or something and I tried to wake you up but you ended up slapping me in the face. So, I slapped you back."

Ford's brown eyes narrowed in annoyance behind his cracked glasses. "Gee, thanks a lot." he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey! You wouldn't wake up! What else was I supposed to do?!" Stanley defended.

"Hmph!" Ford huffed, stubbornly turning his head and glaring at the wall and the room fell silent.

"...Are you okay?" Stanley asked after a few moments.

"Of coarse I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?" Ford asked, turning his head back and looking at his concerned twin.

"I dunno. You just...seemed pretty shaken up after that nightmare. " Stanley admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "What was it about anyway?"

The room fell into silence again and Ford bit his lip. "Nothing you would understand." Ford responded quietly and laid down on the couch again.

He expected Stan to leave and that would be the end of it but instead, much to Ford's surprise, he felt the couch sink slightly as Stanley sat himself down on it, next to Ford's head.

"I want too though..." the words were soft, sincere and a bit sad. Ford remained quiet and just stared up at the ceiling.

"Come on Sixer, talk to me!"

Silence.

A moment passed. Then two. Stan scowled and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by his twin.

"It wasn't a nightmare Stanley." Ford said quietly, still staring up at the ceiling. "It was...memories."

"Memories?"

"Of when I was dimension hopping." the sweater wearing twin replied. "...I've seen so many horrible things while I was gone all those years, Stanley...I've done things I'm ashamed of in order to survive..."

Stanley remained silent and frowned looking down at his slippered feet, a wave of guilt washing over him. It was his fault his brother was like this.

"I...I'm sorry." was all Stan could say. What more could he say? Who knows what kinds of horrors that Ford faced during his time after getting sucked through the portal. As much as he wanted too, Stanley couldn't relate. He couldn't really comfort his twin.

"So am I." Ford sighed.

Once more the room fell into silence with the wind outside and the mens breathing being the only noise in the basement.

Ford blinked and turned his head as he heard a new noise accompany the mostly silent room. He turned his head and looked up at Stan. "What's so funny?"

"Nothin." Stan said, chuckling to himself. "I was just remembering the time when we were kids and you had a nightmare. You got so scared you crawled into my bed and wouldn't stop clinging to me till the morning."

Ford felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory. "I was five and it was a very horrific dream!"

"Whatever you say, Sixer."

Ford huffed and returned to staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to go back to sleep. He felt his body stiffen and his brown eyes widened as he suddenly felt a hand run itself through his hair. "Stanley what the heck are you doing?!"

"You seriously cannot tell me you don't remember me doing this to you after you had your nightmare do you?" Stan replied, still stroking his brother's gray hair.

It was true. After having that nightmare when he was five, Stanley would stroke a crying Stanford's hair until he fell asleep. And as much as Ford hated to admit it, the soothing action was making him feel drowsy.

"Will you please stop that?" Ford asked annoyed. His voice beginning to get heavy with much needed sleep. Stanley did not reply nor did he stop. Ford's mind stubbornly screamed at him to sit up and move out of reach but his tired body wouldn't cooperate. He hated to admit it but...it was nice.

"I know you're still mad at me." Stanley said, still stroking his twins hair. "...But I'm glad to have you back."

Ford didn't even hear him as he tried to keep his eyes open.

"I missed you." Stan continued, getting lost in thought. "I just...I wish things could go back to normal."

SNORE!

Stanley jumped and looked over at his brother. Ford's eyes were closed and his chest slowly rose and fell with every breath he took. His mind no longer plagued with nightmares.

A sad smile pulled at Stanley's lips and he stood up from the couch and walked in front of Ford. He tucked the blanket around him and then took off Ford's glasses, setting them on the arm od the couch. Ford always did have a bad habit of falling asleep with his glasses on.

With his twin safe, sound and sleeping, Stanley considered his work there done and began to head up the stairs. Stopping midway, he looked back over at the couch. Ford continued to snore and snuggled deeper under the blanket.

"Goodnight Ford." Stan said softly then continued on upstairs, finally able to go back to bed.

For the rest of the night, Stanford Pines got the best sleep he had had in three decades.