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English
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Published:
2024-09-27
Completed:
2025-05-05
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2,591
Chapters:
2/2
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I Got You

Summary:

Ford jolts awake from a nightmare and seeks his brother out for comfort… and to say some things he realizes he should have said sooner.

Set sometime after Weirdmageddon but before the Mystery Twins take their bus trip home.

(Bonus chapter added solely to showcase some fanart!)

Notes:

These brothers absolutely DECIMATED my heart, so I just had to write a lil something to help patch things up in a more satisfying way between them. (They did not interact enough let alone have a REAL heart-to-heart at any point after Ford stepped through the portal, so this is my attempt at a mild fix-it-fic that kinda just covers what I wish they had discussed.) The fact that the first time Ford hugged Stan after not having seen him in 30 years and not having had a stable relationship with him for even longer than that was AFTER Stan’s memories had been wiped and he didn’t recognize Ford completely broke me hhhhh. THEY DESERVED TO HUG IT OUT LIKE MABEL WANTED.

Gravity Falls belongs to Alex Hirsch and Disney. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Please enjoy!!

Edit: 05/05/2025 - Head on to chapter 2 to view the piece of fanart I made for this fic! 😊💖 Original end notes transferred there as well.

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ford staggers backwards, knees shaking, both hands gripping the memory gun.

His brother kneels before him, face contorted in pain as the hole that had been blasted through his forehead suddenly bursts into blue flames. Dark, black blood, so much blood –why is there blood? There shouldn't be any blood, the memory gun is a ray gun– drips down his nose and pools in the grass below.

“Stanley, I… I'm so sorry, I didn't– oh God–” Bile rises into Ford's throat as his twin pitches forward, just barely catching himself with his palms against the ground. He looks up through the blood obscuring his eyes.

“Who… who's Stanley?” Stan croaks, and Ford's stomach drops. Before Ford can muster a response, Stan collapses, and his entire body is engulfed in bright blue fire.

“No! Stanley, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!” Ford rushes forward, but the flames immediately spread, licking at his boots. He falters and gasps in terror, and in the blink of an eye, the fire is everywhere. The trees, the grass, the sky, the entire world around is swallowed whole. Ford is jerked backwards as if being pulled by an invisible force.

“Stanley! Stanley!” Ford screams, but it's no use. His brother is gone, and he can feel himself being forced back, invisible hands tugging and digging into his flesh with razor sharp claws.

“Stanley!”

Ford sat bolt upright, the image of his brother's wounded, burning body seared into his mind's eye.

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

Probably the first one that hadn't featured Bill in… he couldn't remember how long.

He clutched his chest and steadied his breathing as his heart rate began to slow. The remnants of pure terror still coursed through his veins though, crawling up his spine and raising goosebumps along the back of his neck.

Stanley. The memory gun. The effects from it had been successfully reversed, but clearly his subconscious was still haunted by all that had happened in the last few days. (Hell, it was haunted by much more than just that, but Weirdmageddon was still fresh enough that he should have expected certain things to crop up in his dreams.)

Ford couldn't deny his guilt at having had such a central role in all this mess. He was relieved everything was relatively back to normal and that his great niece and nephew were safe and sound, but for some reason, he couldn’t shake his lingering regret.

Bill had been vanquished. Gravity Falls was safe. His family was safe. That was all that mattered. So why did he still feel cold? Uneasy and tormented by his past mistakes?

The horrific view of the Stan from his nightmare flashed again, unbidden, dragging with it a myriad of unpleasant memories.

The way Stanley had looked at him that first day – the frustration and agony in his eyes, his mouth set in that little pout he always gets right before he starts to cry – Ford couldn't seem to get it out of his mind, even all this time later.

“As far as I'm concerned, they're the only family I have left.”

Stan's declaration still resounded in his head every now and then.

Ford scrubbed a hand down his face and frowned. He hid it well, but those words had cut him to the core. They used to be so close, he and his twin– best friends, like Dipper and Mabel. Being away from Stanley during college was bad enough, and then living on his own in the multiverse for 30 years after that, well. Ford had felt like he was missing a vital part of himself. The other half of his heart. Something he could survive without, but he didn't want to.

Stanley worked himself ragged for 30 years to bring Ford back into this dimension, to bring him home. He recalled the anticipation, the pure relief he'd admittedly only analytically noted on his brother's face after he exited the portal, and what had Ford done?

He let his anger get the better of him. He'd greeted him with a swift punch to the jaw.

Ford winced at the memory. He was only starting to realize now that his regrets ran much deeper than his shady business with Bill Cipher that had ultimately led to Weirdmageddon.

Truthfully, he wouldn't have even been here, back in his home dimension – to meet the kids, to build relationships with them, to remedy the end of the world with his family by his side – if it weren't for Stanley, his brother, his twin never giving up on him.

Hell, no wonder Stan was so adamant about wanting Ford to thank him.

Despite all the strife between them, despite everything, his brother had saved him not once, but twice in the last couple of weeks.

He'd been a real class-A jerk, hadn't he?

Fuck.

Ford swung his legs to the floor and took a few deep breaths. A wave of nausea crashed over him and twisted his gut, but he tamped it down. The jitters from his nightmare persisted despite his efforts to be rid of them. He could see it was still nighttime out the window, but he was sure he'd have a horrible time trying to fall back asleep now.

Running a hand through his hair, he was suddenly too uncomfortable to sit still. He stood up from his couch and began to pace. He needed some way to calm down, to clear his head.

Without thinking, he left his room and started walking aimlessly down the hall. He didn't even realize he'd marched himself all the way to Stanley’s door until his socked foot bumped into it, propelling it open a bit more from its slightly ajar position.

Ford shook his head at himself and huffed a sigh. He hadn't done this since they were kids.

He considered turning back and heading to the kitchen for a glass of water instead, but… something stopped him. He'd absently arrived here for a reason. His hand still trembled as he quietly moved the door further to allow him enough room to enter, then shut it almost all the way behind him.

Tiptoeing over to Stan's snoring form splayed out under a mess of bedsheets, Ford steeled his nerves and sucked in a breath. He needed his brother right now.

“Stan?” Ford whispered, gently shaking his twin by the shoulder. “Hey, Stanley?”

Stan abruptly snorted and coughed, his eyes popping open. He squinted at his brother, the moonlight filtering through the window illuminating Ford’s form just enough to make him out in the dark room.

“Stanford?”

Ford smiled sheepishly. “Permission to come aboard, Cap'n?” He slipped easily into the sailor lingo they often used when they were kids – whenever one of them was too scared to try to fall back asleep in his own bed, he'd go to his brother for comfort during rough nights.

This was definitely one of those nights.

Stanley’s eyes widened in concern. “Permission granted,” he responded in kind immediately. What was all this now? Ford hadn't asked to climb in bed with him since… well, he couldn't exactly remember, but he knew it was a long time ago. Something must have really rattled him for him to go this far.

Stan scooted over and lifted the covers. “Nightmares?”

Ford simply nodded in reply.

“Me too, c’mere.”

Ford climbed carefully into his brother's bed, a warm sense of nostalgia washing over him like a gentle, comforting wave as he cuddled close to Stan. Stan pulled his twin flush to him, wrapping his arms around Ford's back and holding him there for a minute. Then, he leaned back a bit, facing him.

Ford inhaled a shuddering breath as he settled the covers around himself.

“Stan, I'm… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Stan's brows knitted together in confusion. “For what, Sixer? It's over now. Everything's back to normal. We're okay. I'm okay.”

Ford squeezed his eyes shut. “For everything. For not considering your feelings back in high school, for letting our relationship lapse those ten years, for causing this whole goddamn mess in the first place. For…” He trailed off, opening his eyes and fixing Stan with a hard, sincere look. “For not saying thank you, before.”

The words poured out of him, words he was only realizing now he should have said much sooner than this, but better late than never, right? His scrambled thoughts from the past half hour or so miraculously coalesced, and he knew what he needed to say, what Stan needed to hear.

Stan’s eyes flicked up to meet his.

“It was dangerous, what you did,” Ford continued. “So dangerous. But thank you. Thank you for not giving up, Stanley. For bringing me back. Bringing me home.”

Stan smiled softly and looked away, sniffing. “You know, I had nightmares every night while you were gone,” he said, voice starting to wobble. He recalled the first few nights, right after it had happened, being the worst. Trying to sleep was an entirely futile effort, especially when he discovered the couch Ford used as a bed was thoroughly infused with his brother's scent.

“Every night?” Ford asked, dumbfounded by the admission.

“Every damn one. It was so bad those first few years.” His eyes took on a faraway look, glazing over as he recounted painful memories. “Every time I closed my eyes, I… I just saw your f-face and that bright light… and, and you were c-calling for help…”

Stan trailed off, too choked up to continue. Ford's eyes welled watching Stan start to unravel. He tugged him to his chest and wrapped his arms snugly around his twin again. Stan followed suit, bringing his arms around Ford and sobbing softly against his ear.

Ford lost his battle against the tears as well.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry,” he cried.

“All I w-wanted was to patch things up… back then,” Stan gasped around sobs. “We hadn't seen each other in so long. God, I was, I-I was so sure you'd called me up here to talk. To sort it out, but–”

“I know, I-I misread it, Stan,” Ford replied, and he did, he really did. He'd analyzed and analyzed and overanalyzed until there was nothing left to do but bawl his guts out over what he realized far too late was a simple misunderstanding between them. He'd kept himself occupied – focused, he told himself – on finding a way back, a way home. But that misunderstanding haunted him all the same, creeping and lingering like a storm cloud above his head. Horrific scenarios where he never saw his brother again and they both died, forever separated, each believing he was hated by the other invaded his waking thoughts so severely he could barely even get to sleep most nights.

“Back then I was so… so f-fucked up by Bill that I just… there was no one else I could trust with those journals, Stanley. No one but you. I was so, s-so terrified, and–”

Stan pulled back enough to look Ford in the eye. “And then I pushed you,” he whispered hoarsely, looking positively miserable.

And there was the kicker. All these years, he had put the blame solely on himself for what happened.

Ford shook his head. “Don't you dare,” he scolded lightly. He internally crumpled remembering what he had said to his brother within the first few minutes after stepping through the portal. He could only hope Stan would believe what he was saying now. “Don't you dare blame yourself. I was too harsh on you the other night, I see that now. We were both responsible for that fight. For what happened.”

“I know, but I didn’t mean to–” Stan choked on a sad little hiccup. “30 fucking years we lost, Ford. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Ford squeezed his eyes shut again. “I know, I know.” He huffed a frustrated sigh. “I should never have built that damn portal in the first place. But I’m here now, Stanley. I’m here.”

They lay in silence for a minute, both trying to catch their breath.

“I was…,” Ford swallowed, his voice a fragile whisper. “I was s-so scared I’d never see you again…”

It was a fear he tried desperately not to think about, especially in those times that felt like hope was nowhere to be found anymore. But it was persistent, niggling in the back of his mind and steadily growing stronger the more years that passed with no sign of ever being able to locate his home dimension. He couldn’t help that fear from spilling out now, like water in an overfilled cup.

Stan wiped the heel of his palm across his eyes. “Me too,” he replied. “That more than anything else is what kept me up most nights. I couldn’t stand the thought. Hell, I still can’t.”

Ford pulled his brother flush to him again, settling his chin firmly into Stan’s shoulder.

“I love you, Stanley.”

“Love you too, Poindexter.”

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a few more minutes, making up for roughly 40 years of lost time. Then, they inched apart enough to get more comfortable. Stan reached over to his night stand and grabbed some tissues for them both, letting out a grunt and loudly blowing his nose.

“Well, that’s one way to clear out the ol’ sinuses,” Stan quipped, and the brothers chuckled, glad to finally have everything out in the open and properly sorted.

After cleaning up their tear-stained faces, Stan decided to change the subject. (This was more than enough heavy emotional junk than he cared to deal with for the year.)

“So,” he began, tossing his balled-up tissues carelessly to the floor, which earned him a good-natured glare from Ford. “What was it like in there, anyway? Through the portal?”

Ford made a point to carefully aim his tissues into the wastebasket beside Stan’s bed. “Harsh. Terrifying. Disorienting. The only benefit was that it was a perfect opportunity for exploring unknown dimensions. I filled fifteen notebooks.”

Stan snickered. “Heh, ‘course you did. Nerd.”

Ford flashed a lopsided grin and shoved lightly at Stan’s shoulder. “I drove myself mad trying to pinpoint the coordinates of this dimension, though. The multiverse is infinite and constantly shifting and expanding. It’s far too much for the human mind to master, especially alone. I’d… well, I’d all but given up when you finally re-activated the portal and my coordinates were located. I really thought it was hopeless for a while.” Ford looked down, absently picking at a piece of lint on Stan’s comforter.

Stan placed a firm hand on his twin’s shoulder, snapping him from his brief reverie.

“But hey, I got you, Sixer. I got you. And I’ll always save your sorry ass too, you know that, right? Always. Day or night, 30 years, hell, a hundred years from now, you can count on me to have your back no matter what. Even if I’m mad at ya. I promise."

Ford smiled, fresh, joyous tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I know, Stanley. I know.”

Both men held tightly onto each other that night and eventually slipped into blissful, peaceful, nightmare-free sleep snuggled up together, warm and cozy and finally home.

Up in the attic, a much younger set of twins also decided to hug each other close that night, mirroring their beloved Grunkles and snoring the rest of the night away in perfect harmony.

Notes:

End notes moved to the next chapter where you can view the art piece I made for this fic! 😊

Chapter 2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Old geezers hug each other til they fall asleep. Peace and love on planet earth. Amen. 😌

Notes:

(Finally finished the fanart idea that's been simmering in the back of my mind since I wrote this fic. Reblog on Tumblr too if you like!)

I know these boys were raised under some pretty harsh toxic masculinity standards, but they both deserve to have a good long cry with each other over everything that happened between them. 💕

I prob don't need to say this, but just in case – I wrote this to be strictly about Stan and Ford's brotherly bond and platonic love for each other. No incest intended whatsoever.

Anyway, these men desperately need some peace, comfort, and happiness. I headcanon that they used to crawl into each other's bunk beds on nights where one or both of them got scared due to nightmares, etc, when they were kids, and that's why Ford seeks Stan out. It's probably been at least over 50 years, but when you need your brother, you need your brother, damn it! 😭 💖

Thanks so much for reading and please feel free to leave a review!! 😊