Author's Note: I recently finished the gravity falls series and have been reading everyone's fanfictions on said subject. Some of my favorite was the ones I found on Feral Ford and of course, I wanted to put my own spin on the tale. Hope you enjoy reading and leave a review if you have the time. Thanks!
Includes protective feral Ford, clueless self-loathing Stanley and some misunderstanding. Hope you enjoy, working on another chapter soon!
It had been dark in the basement when the portal opened, most of the lights knocked out in the struggle. No force on Earth would have made Stan miss his brother leaping through the machine at him though, especially since he had been tackled to the ground by said brother. Ford, and it was definitely Ford even if he was wearing only tattered pants and was absolutely covered in scars; growled at him and then turned towards the government agents that were coming trampling down the stairs. He must have decided that they were more of a threat, because Ford barked in warning at them.
A gun was pointed in their direction and Ford leaped into action, leaving his crouch above Stan and attacking the agents with stunning skill and speed. The agents were disarmed and knocked out on the floor before they even truly knew what hit them and Stan was stunned at what his brother had just done. Stunned even more by the fact that when Ford deemed himself done with them, he returned to his place over top of Stan.
Soos and the kids set to work with their apparent memory gun and dealt with everything in a more lasting way; while Stan stared up at Ford and relished the fact that neither one of them said a word. Ford, in fact, seemed content on sniffing him and humming. It was kind of weird and while his niece and nephew were setting about brain washing the waking up agents, he finally felt the need to speak up. "I never thought I'd see you again Ford, I'm so sorry." Stan spluttered out.
He felt tears in his eyes, and Stan had always said when the day had finally come, he wouldn't blubber like a baby because it would be Ford who went through the traumatic experience. An experience that had been all Stan's fault and 30 years had gone by. The tears were literally licked away by Ford and Stan startled at that. The tongue didn't stop once it started either, covering his cheeks and the tip of his nose with a pleased purr.
Stan struggled against his twin brother and attempted to squirm away from him. Dipper, Mabel, and Soos, gathered around the two of them with those wide eyes only a child could possess. "Grunkle Stan, is this?" Dipper started and got too excited having to take a deep breath in the middle of his sentence and Mable caught on and finished for him. "The Author of the journals!?"
Stan took a moment to smile at just how cute it was when they did that. "Yeah, my brother Stanford." It was hard to say the truth after all these years, but if anyone ever needed to know it was these three. The apples of his eye. There were a lot of immediate questions coming from the three, but Stan was tired and sore and just over all didn't feel like answering them. "Let's talk about this tomorrow, your Grunkle Stan took an unexpected dive to the ground and needs to lay down in bed."
The kids look a bit irritated with him, but the questions ceased none the less. It probably helped the Ford hadn't said a single word the entire time, because they didn't press him with questions either. It did take several light shoves for Ford to let him off the ground and Stan was immediately latched onto like he might disappear. Traveling up the stairs with another body trying to imprint itself into his sore back wasn't fun; but he couldn't bring himself to push Ford away, not even an inch. The journey thankfully came to an end with Stan reaching his bedroom and the twins parting with a tired goodnight. It's nice that they weren't freaking out from having government agent burst into the shack and try to hurt them; probably too young and exhausted to worry about such things. Or maybe as long as they were together they knew that everything was going to be just fine.
Stan was grateful for the opportunity to be alone with his brother, but talking to him was beginning to be a monologue because Ford never seemed to answer back. "Well, this used to be the spare room when you built the place, but I turned it into my room in the last 30 years. Actually spent the first 6 months sleeping in that old chair in the living room, because I was afraid to touch your things. Kind of got over it after a while though; hope you're not mad?" Stan cut off when Ford growled roughly in his throat, maybe he was mad.
Stan opened the door to his room none-the-less; thinking perhaps if Ford was mad he'd brighten up at how neat and well-kept the room was. Stan had taken care of the house, and all of Ford's possession and research along with it. He could only guess that Ford appreciated it as he forcefully pushed Stan into the room and (with noted difficulty) closed the door behind them. He finally left Stan's side at that and stalked around the room, taking in its entirety. The medium sized bed, which still had slightly ruffled sheets from this morning, the dresser with a jewelry box sitting on top of it. Stan wondered if Ford realized or remember that that had been their mothers; sometime he swore he could still smell her perfume and cigarettes coming from it. It was comforting, so he kept it close. Other than that the room was simple, laundry basket in the corner, reading chair and lamp against the wall.
Ford took interest in the basket to Stan's embarrassment, taking a moment to rustle through a few of the top items. He suddenly wished he hadn't put off doing the laundry; but the summer had been busy for him and Stan had been spending every second he could with the tiny twins that made his heart open back up after all these years. Ford left the basket alone after a few moments though, and all but herded Stan to the bed, pulling at his clothes as they went.
Stan yelped as Ford tried shredding his suit, and made quick work of it himself, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers. This was more comfortable sleep attire anyways, he found himself rationing as he climbed on the bed and lay down. It had been a long day and Ford probably deserved a year worth of sleep and if he wanted to be next to Stanley then that was totally fine with him. Stan didn't exactly want to leave Ford's presence yet either and he was fine talking in the morning. Though he was beginning to understand that Ford probably wasn't going to speak back. That fact sunk into his stomach, harshly twisting. Something bad had happened to Ford, bad enough that he wouldn't or maybe even wouldn't speak. He reached out for Ford nervously; everything that had happened in the portal was his fault. Ford had ended up in there because of him and his inability to do anything for anyone else.
Six fingers brushed over Stan extended five and then Ford pulled back with a smirk and dropped his pants.