In My Corner

Part 1 of the Boxing AU

Chapter 3


"Why didn't you tell me you were having a match in a week! A week, Stanley!" Ford exclaimed.

Stan didn't respond, instead concentrating on timing his punches on the speed bag.

Ford began pacing and gesticulating wildly with his ranting. "I mean, sure, you don't have to slim down too much to get to the weight limit, but still! A week?"

His brother rolled his eyes.

Ford stopped abruptly in place, "And your opponent! He's already got a few wins under his belt, doesn't he?"

The ringing of a clock went off and Stan stopped his workout to shut it off. Then he walked to the bench, Ford following, and took off his gloves. He finally noticed the flyer in Ford's hand and his sweaty grimace turned into a smile.

"Ford! High six! Why didn't you tell me you got into your nerd college?" Stan put his hand up in the air. For a second, all Ford can do is stare at his brother's hand. "Come on, Sixer," he said fondly, "Don't leave me hanging."

Incredulous, Ford gave his twin a high six. Stan chuckled, and pulled his brother in for a hug. "I'm so proud of you," Stan crooned, making sure to nuzzle in close and get his sweat all over Ford.

Ford pretended to choke, "Ugh, you reek and you're perspiring everywhere." However, inwardly Ford could feel his worry take a backseat as his brother's happiness was contagious. They found themselves dissolving into laughter for no reason.

Later, when the family was all together, celebrating Ford's acceptance into his dream college, Ford realized they never addressed the issue of Stan's boxing match.

-000-

On the night of the match, Ford, Stan, and Coach Weave were in the waiting room, about to be called up for Stan's match. Ford found himself once again pacing, trying to calm his racing heart. He accidently bumped into someone else and they growled menacingly at him. Apologizing profusely,, Ford backed up and almost tripped, before a firm hand guided him to a seat on a bench.

"Careful there, Ford," Stan said, keeping his grip tight on his brother's arm. "Or you'll be the one getting in a fight tonight, not me."

Ford huffed and crossed his arms. However, he didn't remove Stan's hand. Instead, he gently pressed his leg against Stanley's own in a silent show of support. His brother smiled and moved to sling an arm over Ford's shoulder.

"It'll be fine," Stan said placatingly.

Ford smiled back and he could feel his mood lift, before darkening again. Tonight was Stanley's big night and all Stanford was doing was messing things up. It should be Ford's job to cheer Stan up, not the other way around.

Before Ford could do something to rectify the situation, someone called into the waiting room, "Pines! You're up in ten!"

"Let's go," Coach Weave grunted.

Stan silently stood up to follow his coach, while Ford toddled after them. He nervously wrung his hands, all six fingers fidgeting, unable to stay still. Mind racing, Ford wondered if this was a good idea, the idea of Stan boxing that is. After all, a pro boxer didn't wear headgear like the amatuer groups did and they used lighter gloves. The punches were going to be coming faster and stronger than what Stan was used to.

Ford was struck by a horrible thought. What if.. Stan got hurt? And not the usual scrapes he would typically get into, but truly and terribly injured.

Suddenly, Ford walked into someone's bare back. Thankfully, it was his brother's.

"What did I say about being careful, Ford? You're going to get hurt," Stan said, amused.

Ford swallowed.

"Pines, get ready to go into the ring," said the person manning to the door.

This was such a mistake. Ford should have tried to put his foot down right at that moment and begged Stanley not to go through with the match. However, before he could even form that thought, Stan spoke.

"Hey." Stan said. "After this is all over and I have my first win, give me a high six, okay?"

"Okay," Ford agreed instantly without thinking. Then mentally slapped himself. He was supposed to be stopping Stanley from boxing, not encouraging him.

However, Stan didn't know what Ford was thinking so he grinned, looking immensely satisfied with the answer.

Stan turned away from Ford and walked towards the boxing ring.

-000-

Ford was regretting not stopping Stan from getting into the ring. They were two rounds in and Stanley was getting his ass handed to him. The opposition pounded his brother and looked to be enjoying it. Even worse was the crowd. They were cheering the opponent on, crying out excitedly when a particularly painful looking punch would break through Stan's defense and slug him across the face.

"Why isn't the ref stopping this, Coach Weave," Ford said desperately. "Stan's getting his butt kicked."

The coach didn't even turn to look Ford's way. Instead he sighed and continued to watch the match. "This is what the crowd was expecting when they came to see this match, some nobody getting his arse handed to him by a better opponent," the coach answered. "His other opponent dropped out for this reason, and there was no one else willing to fight him. In fact, it's the only way a totally newbie like Stan could have gotten a match with this guy," Coach Weave conceded.

Ford's eyes widened. His nightmare was turning into reality.

"The round's almost over," Coach Weave said. "Get the supplies ready."

At that moment, the bell rang, and Stanley was stumbling towards their corner of the ring. Stanford quickly set out the stool and grabbed the water and a towel. Coach Weave started talking as soon as Stan sat down, but Ford wasn't paying attention. All he could do was mop up his brother's sweat and blood, then he would be back in the ring, while Ford watched about do absolutely nothing…

"Hey."

Ford glanced up to see his brother smiling crookedly at him. "Don't worry, I have him on the ropes, Poindexter." Stan tried to give him a bigger smile.

His smile was covered in blood.

"I don't know if I can watch you get hurt anymore," Ford admitted, softly.

"Then don't watch me get hurt, watch me win this thing," Stan said. He turned to his coach, "Eyyy, don't worry about this Coach Weave, I got this."

Coach Weave scrunched up his face, but didn't say anything. Instead, he grumbled about stubborn boys and their brothers.

The two stepped off the platform, leaving Stan in the ring with his opponent.

The bell rang again, signaling the start of another round. Stan pulled himself into a fighting stance and the two boxers met in the middle of the ring. The rest seemed to do Stan some good, he managed to defend himself better and take less hits for the first few trade-offs.

Ford tried not to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help it. Seeing Stan fighting so fiercely and so passionately, Ford couldn't help but believe his brother could win.

However, the opposition was dead set against preventing this. They traded punch after punch, and after a few moments, it was clear that Stanley was flagging. Ford could barely watch as his brother was backed into the corner. It looked like the other guy was about to lay the final blow, his fist coming down to put Stan out for good, when Stan pulled a punch out of nowhere and rammed it into his opponent's face.

The other man staggered back, both in pain and surprise. Suddenly, Stan was a maverick, laying blow after blow on his opponent. He didn't even care that he was getting hit back, only that his hits were landing. Disorientated, the adversary tried to pull himself together, but Stan wasn't letting him. He roared, punching at the other's guard making the the other stumble. Stan took the opportunity to land a left hook directly on the guy's temple. The opponent stumbled, then hit the mat.

"To your neutral corner!" The referee yelled.

Stan limped to the corner and leaned heavily against the ropes. Not moments later, the crowd cried out and Stan turned around to see the ref waving his arm in the arms.

The match was over and Stan had won.

Ford was suddenly in front of him, grinning widely and laughing. "Stan! You did it! You won!"

And that was all the confirmation Stan needed, a huge grin took over his face. "High six!" He exclaimed.

"High six!" Ford enthusiastically said back.

They wouldn't know until the next day, but a small local newspaper had taken a picture of the exact moment of the two brother's high sixing. The photo would be used for a small story on Stan's impressive victory that night.


Author's Ramblings -

I don't have any boxing experience so there may be some inaccuracies. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.