A/N: I do not own Gravity Falls. Enjoy!
…
In the light of the lamp on his desk, Ford smiled. The blueprint for his Perpetual Motion Machine was finally complete. Now, it just came down to building the thing for the science fair at the end of the month. As he leaned back in his chair, Ford could hear the front door click shut and for a fleeting moment, he realized he hadn't noticed Stan leave the house.
How late was it? He checked his watch — 12:38 am.
The bedroom door pushed open, and Stan strolled in, rubbing an eye and yawning. Ford gave his twin a once over, and noticed the hickies peppering Stan's neck and jawline.
"Where have you been?"
"With Carla. Who else?"
Ford glared at the back of Stan's head, as Stan unzipped his jacket and tossed it unceremoniously to the ground. "Don't you have an essay due tomorrow?"
"I…uh…I've been on it."
"Oh, yeah?" Ford challenged, getting up from the desk with blueprint and a few thumb tacks in hand. "What's it about?"
Stan let out an annoyed sigh. "Don't you have some nerd experiment to do or whatever?"
"Stanley, you've got to keep your grades up!" Ford exclaimed, now leaning over his desk and driving a tack into the wall above it, "You want to pass senior year, don't you?"
"What's the point? You don't need a high school diploma to go sail the world, right?"
Ford stiffened momentarily, pausing to push the tack the last few centimeters in. Stan noticed. "Don't tell me you're thinking about bailing, Sixer. We've been planning this for years—!"
"Ma and Pa think it's best if I went to West Coast Tech," Ford said quickly, "I mean, hasn't that been what this has always been leading up to?"
Stan grabbed Ford by the shoulder, and shoved him roughly into the space between their bunkbed and desk. The back of Ford's head slammed into the wall, and the lamp crashed to the ground, causing the room to go dark around them.
"No, it hasn't!" Stan growled, his eyes filling with angry tears. "The goal has never been West Coast Tech! It's been adventure, and treasure, and babes and us, Ford! Us!"
Ford had never heard rage in Stan's voice before. At least, not like this. Shermie's cry from the next room over gave Ford an opportunity to look away and focus on the footsteps that followed. When Shermie settled down, Stan's grip on Ford ceased and Stan quickly backed away.
"Stanley," Ford started, wincing as he touched the back of his head, "I-" but Stan had already picked his jacket off the floor and was in the process of forcing it on himself hastily.
"Forget it," he mumbled, letting the tears flow freely down his cheeks. "This was stupid."
He made a beeline for the doorway, stumbling over the lampshade in the process. "Sh—!"
"Stanley, please, wait." Ford rushed to get ahead of Stan, and blocked his exit.
Stan's fists balled up at his sides. "Move, Ford. I'm not gonna ask you twice."
Ma appeared on the landing, her hair up in curlers, an annoyed look on her makeup-free face. "Boys, it's past midnight! What's goin' on?"
Stan took the opportunity, to bolt past their mother and all but run down the steps.
"Stanley!" Ma exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden action. "What are you doin'?"
Stan didn't answer her, and instead wrenched the the front door open, disappearing into the Spring night.
Ma stared at the open door before rushing into the master bedroom, and shrieking for Pa. As Ford blocked out his parents' confused yelling match, and Shermie's crying, he knew that when Stan came back, things would change. As the end of the school year approached, Stan would get more distant. They'd have more fights. Stan would spend more nights out than home. It would just be different.
And this was just the beginning of the fallout.
…