Yeah...this is for my girl. Fantasy-Magic18, who still has not abandoned me despite my quirks.

If it was one thing everyone knew about Ford, it was that he did NOT like socializing. The silence was his friend. Paper and pen provided his conversation. He told himself he didn't need to talk to people, what was the point when you had books for company? Of course, he enjoyed being with Stanley, but Stanley is his other half. That's a bit different. So, in conclusion. Ford found everything and anything to do with idle conversation a pointless endeavor. Especially when it was with people he barely knew.

Ford hated parties, in particular.

Everyone there expected you to talk and dance and scream, and if you didn't? You were weird, an outcast. Ford was never into the whole 'dancing' thing. Or talking. Or screaming. Parties, in general, were the bane of his existence.

So Stan dragged him to every single one he could find.

When they were younger, Stan was much more popular. He would get party invitations from people Ford didn't even think existed. Nearly every Saturday he would try and rope Ford into one thing or another. Ford usually managed to save himself. Mostly by screaming no when Stan tried to force him out the door, yelling:

"You need some people time Ford! Your gonna turn into a potted plant!"

Like that even made sense, Ford would retort. And it really didn't, if you thought about it.

Sense or no sense, Stan loved parties. He loved the people and the dancing and the screams that sounded almost primal. He somehow always left with at least five more friends after each one too, something Ford couldn't do in a year.

It was obvious, once he gave himself time to think about it, but hindsight was always a problem of his.

Thanks to a very sleep deprived- and dare I say it- idiotic mistake. Ford had agreed to go to a party.

He had just been sketching in his newest journal, letting the rocking of the boat sooth his high-strung nerves. (They were always high-strung, no matter what he was doing.) When Stan spoke up from his corner of the ship's cabin.

"Heya Ford?"

Ford didn't look up, but acknowledge the words with a soft hum, pencil still sketching away. His eyelids were slowly falling, but his hand never stopped in its smooth motions.

"Wanna go do something tomorrow night when we make port? You might actually have fun for once, you Nerd." The voice was teasing, the words having no malice between them and Ford chuckled softly.

"Whatever you want, Stanley. I think I should head to bed. I swear I can feel my eyes trying to shut on me..." Ford yawned and sat up from his desk. It was Stan's turn to chuckle.

"The proper sleeping schedule Mabel gave us finally catching up to you?"

"It must be, I haven't been able to sleep less than six hours for the last week."

"Good, you know it's good for ya."

"Whatever you knucklehead."

"G'night Sixer."

"Goodnight Stanley."

Ford sat up and pushed his way into the other room, muscle memory guiding him to the top bunk. At first, Ford was against getting bunk beds, but when Stan mentioned how they saved space and made more room for his, as Stanley called them, 'nerd gadgets', Ford figured he could live with it. {He was secretly very happy with it, but wasn't going to tell anyone that.}

Falling into the mattress, Ford let his eyes shut and his mind go blank. By the time morning came around, he had forgotten all about their late-night conversation. Although, Stanley seemed even more excitable than usual, which was saying something.

Ford was happy that afternoon. They made it to the dock safely and weren't arrested on the spot, which happened to be a recurring problem with the both of them. The both of them managed to find everything they needed to restock the ship and were having an all-out uneventful day. Stan would point at things and explain them to him as they walked, helping Ford catch up on thirty years of innovation.

In summary, Ford was not expecting what happened next.

Stan mentioned the 'promise' Ford had made the other night. Ford recalled a blurry memory of such a conversation, nodded, and decided to go along with whatever it was that Stan wanted to show him. It was beyond Ford to deny Stan anything at this point. Ford was more than aware that he couldn't make up for forty years of neglect with the short time left they had with there lives, and never truly said no to anything Stan asked for. In fact, Ford wished Stan would open up more about what he wanted, because he tended to just suck it up and go without, and Ford couldn't spoil him if he never said anything.

Anyway, Ford was being led downtown to a neighborhood that made his fingers twitch towards his gun a bit more than he would like, but he didn't say anything. He trusted Stanley. He did.

Stan led him all the way to a rundown shack of a place and knocked on the large metal door. Stan was grinning while Ford watched it all, uncertain.

A little sliding piece moved out and a man's two eyes glared at them. His voice was deep, but not as deep as either of theirs. "Password?"

Stan smirked. "Tell the owner that it's his ol' pal, Alcatraz."

Okay, Ford was getting nervous. "Stanley...? Are you going to explain yourself? What's going on? Please don't tell me Alcatraz was one of you-"

"FORD! Shut it, will ya? I know what I'm doin'."

Ford looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew Stan hadn't meant to be rude and Ford trusted Stanley. He really did.

After another moment the door swung open and the doorman was gazing at Stan in awe. "Welcome to the shin-splitters, Mr. Alcatraz sir." Ford cocked a brow, but Stan took in stride.

Chin high, and with a cocky look in his eyes, Stan nearly ran down the hallway. Despite his 'I am better than you' demeanor, Ford could see the child-like excitement there.

"C'mon Ford! Let's get this party started!" Ford laughed, despite his hesitation. Stan's enthusiasm was contagious.

They ran down the hallway, down a dark flight of stairs and Ford found himself-

amidst hundreds of bodies.

There were people everywhere! The lights were low, making Ford squint as his eyes adjusted, and the music was loud and booming in his ears.

A party. Stan dragged me down here for a PARTY.

Ford considered screaming and running away, but Stan had already made his way across the room towards the bartender. Ford groaned. There was no way he was leaving without his brother, and there was no way his brother was leaving.

Well, it can't be worse than weirdmaggedon, right?

Ford took a deep breath. He could do this. Just walk across the room...nope! Nonono! Everyone was side by side, he could feel the air coming out of there mouths they were so close together. C'mon keeps it together. For Stan.

Putting on his 'portal face' as Mabel described it, Ford walked steadily through the mass of (hopefully) human flesh. He walked up to the bar and Stan smiled up at him.

"Hey! You made it! I woulda thought you would have run away screaming by now." Stan laughed and waved the bartender over.

Ford grimaced. "I thought about it," He grumbled. Stan snorted.

"Of course you did. Oh, here we are. Jack! How ya doin'?"

The bartender, Jack, gave him a once-over, eyes narrowed. Ford felt his fingers tighten around his gun before Jack's lips split open in a smile. "Well, I'll be darned! It's Alcatraz! Still alive I see." Jack chuckled along with Stan. Jack's gaze moved over to Ford, and Ford felt himself stiffen. "Whose the doppler-ganger? Not anything like you I hope? I don't think we could handle two of ya!"

Stan laughed harder and shook his head. "Jack, meet my twin brother. He's, ah, not big on socializing. But I got him out here, a miracle really." Jack chuckled again, but Ford narrowed his eyes.

"More like a work of deception. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. Aren't sixty-year-old men allowed to skip such frivolous activities if they so desire?"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Don't pull the age crap on me. You're the one who got excited over eating ice-cream!"

"I hadn't had any in over forty years! You would be excited too!"

Jack watched their banter with amusement and worked on getting them both drinks. He had been just a boy when he met Alcatraz, and never thought to ever see him again. The twin was a definite surprise, although, Alcatraz always seemed to be full of them.

They continued talking, and Ford began to relax slightly. Jack wasn't such a bad man and no one was staring at him. In fact, this wasn't at all like the parties from his childhood, which should have been expected, but again, hindsight was something he still struggled with.

Eventually, Stan wanted to join in the dancing, and Jack cheered him on from behind the counter as Stan stole the stage. Ford watched his brother dance with a smile. It had been years since he had seen Stanley dance. As he watched, he let himself drift down memory lane a bit.

Ford recalled landing in a dimension where dancing was a way of communication. Every movement of your body carried a message, and Ford learned very quickly that even the smallest details of how he moved could change everything he was trying to convey.

He let himself sway a bit, his muscle memory remembering the way to 'say' at peace. And he was, he was at peace. For a brief moment. Ford started when Jack spoke up from behind him.

"Why doncha go dance?"

Ford felt his cheeks warm just thinking about it. It was one thing where dancing was necessary to communicate, it was another when you were dancing to...dance. Ford cleared his throat. "No, I don't think so."

Jack just smiled, "That was what he said." Jack gestured to Stan, who was now dancing with several girls at once in what looked like- were his eyes deceiving him- a game of ring around the rosy. Jack leaned against the table. "I met Alcatraz years ago, I was just a kid. At first, everything about him was terrifying. He was always doing those 'secret meetings' with my father and his persona, in general, was intimidating. Back then, the look in his eye was of a man who had seen horrors and wished he hadn't lived to tell the tale. Yet, he was strong, not bowing to the torments he'd been through. I'm not bragging to say I could see right through people as a kid, given time. Well, time I was given, and I'll tell you, you've got the most loyal man for a brother. I'm almost jealous!"

Ford cocked a brow. That was unexpected. "You know you are very articulate for an illegal nightclub bartender."

Jack shrugged. "Your really uptight to be related to that guy." Jack pointed at Stan again. "So I guess we're even." Jack went silent, served a few more customers, then came back to where Ford was sitting in equal silence. After a moment, Ford's brow furrowed.

"Aren't you going to try and convince me to dance again? Or are you just going to stand there? What are you doing?" Ford's glare was almost accusatory. Jack shrugged again.

"You said you didn't want to dance. I can't make you. Can't a man enjoy some company? I never understood the whole 'awkward silence' thing." Jack shrugged again and Ford could feel a bubble of nervousness form in the pit of his stomach. Nonono, was he actually considering it? Dang this man and his reverse psychology. No, Ford did not want to dance.

Ford huffed. "Fine." He stood up and walked onto the dance floor. An energetic song came on, something that screamed 'freestyle'. Ford groaned internally. Now he didn't even have a proper style of dance he could stick too. He was standing there, trying to think of something to do, when someone's hand grabbed his shoulder.

He swung around and barely avoided pulling out his gun, he was so tense. He sighed in relief when it was only Stan.

"Whatcha doin' up here Ford? I thought you were hangin' with Jack? Goodman, isn't he?"

Ford nodded, then cleared his throat. "Well, I was attempting to try and dance, at his urging." I am making such a fool of myself, aren't I?

Stan looked ecstatic. "Your overthinkin' again, huh?" Stan started bouncing to the music, "Just let it move you, Ford. You dance with emotion, not with thoughts." Stan continued his impromptu dance and bounced off, getting swarmed by his new group of friends again. Ford shook his head after him. How do you do that?

The song changed again and Ford found it slightly more to his liking. It was slower, allowing for more deliberate movements. Trying to take Stan's advice to heart, he closed his eyes. He nearly regretted it when all of his other senses burst to life and he could feel, smell, and nearly taste everything around him.

Swallowing back his nervousness, Ford decided that he wasn't going to care anymore. Stanford Pines could do whatever the frell he wanted to. He was an interdimensional outlaw for goodness sake! If he could smuggle something from a time-lord, he could do this.

He started to sway back and forth, letting his mind call forth what he had learned in dimension 4/8^. He swayed with his head toward the ceiling. Confidence, peace, freedom.

He moved faster, getting more confident. The dance was just as smooth as it had been all those years ago when he had finally understood their unique language. When he had mastered it like every other language he knew. He was moving so fluidly, it was almost as if someone had taken away his bones, yet he could still control each limb with precision. He didn't notice when people backed away, staring at him in awe. The music's intensity heightened, and so did the dance. He was so lost in the sound, the feeling that when the song ended, it was almost as if he blinked awake.

He looked up from where he had been kneeling on the ground. One hand against the floor and one knee up against his chest. Everyone was staring at him and began clapping. Then someone starting screaming in admiration, all of them struck by how this old codger managed to one-up all of them without even trying. Ford felt his face burn with embarrassment, his ears turning red. He couldn't move, being in the spot-light freaking him out more than he would have liked to admit.

Thankfully Stan came to his rescue. They were all still clapping and cheering, some of them asking for an encore as Stan led him towards the bar. Ford followed him limply, his mind shocked into uselessness. The heat was still crawling up his neck, making him feel way warmer than the room actually was. (All the dancing people made good A.C a requirement.) He only snapped out of it at the sound of Stanley and Jack's combined voices.

"Hey!"

"Ford!"

Ford looked up. He hadn't realized, but his head had been buried in his arms in shame. That was not what he had meant to do. He couldn't look either of them in the eye.

"Yes? Is there something you require? You should ask for it now before I die." Ford dragged his hand through his hair. He hadn't meant to be so dramatic, but honestly? He wasn't really feeling like himself at the moment. Stan stared at him wide-eyed.

"Are you kidding me? Ford! That was amazing! Had I known you could do something like that I would've made you come here sooner!" Stan laughed at the mortified expression on Ford's face but stopped when it didn't fade. He sighed.

"Ford, you realize they were cheering you on, right? They loved you!" Stan looked at Jack. "You tell him that was awesome."

Jack nodded, "That was better than any professional I've ever seen. That includes my wife! Don't tell her I said that..." Stan chuckled.

"See? Jack even said you were better than his wife! Now, I've never met the chick, but I bet she's great!"

Ford rolled his eyes. "Stanley, you know that's not how it works. Although, I thank you for the compliments nonetheless." Some of the red was leaving his face and Ford sat straighter, trying to ignore all the eyes on him. He leaned closer to Stan as if he were trying to tell him a secret.

"Better than ring around the rosy, I hope?" Ford smirked and Stan bellowed out laughing. Jack joined in with a small chuckle.

"Definitely. I can't wait to show this tape to the kids." Stan brought the camera behind his back into view and Ford's face paled.

"Stanley if you dare-!"

"Too late!"

"STANLEY!"

Jack smiled as they ran off. It was like watching children. Although, it was nice to know Alca- Stan's real name. Jack wondered if they realized they just gave that away...

probably not. He shook his head as he kept cleaning the cup he was holding. Those two were really something.

*Later on the boat*

"Oh my gosh Grunkle Ford! WHY DIDN"T YOU TELL ME YOU COULD DANCE!?"

And that is where I leave you. I'm leaving for the weekend again...won't be back till Tuesday, but whatever. Enjoy this random ficlet of Ford dancing. Honestly, I stole the bit where dancing was a language from someone else's fic, and If I find It, I'll make sure to credit it. But disclosure the asl dancing was not my original idea, but I hoped you liked!

Stan: Wow, this was really ooc.

Ford: I'm not sure, canon Ford, ahem, me, isn't really a dancer. I don't think I can dance at all...anyway. Question, where did the oc come from?

Me: My friends told me I have a fake boyfriend named Jack. That is who Jack is. And I love him, so deal. Anyway...too lazy to edit this, I'm really tired and I have to be up early for my trip tomorrow, so I'll see ya'll. Don't die! {Sorry if this sucked. Because I'm pretty sure none of it makes sense...sorry.}