The Third Night
Title: The Third Night
Author:
chilibreath
X-posted to: Tumblr / FF.net / AO3
Rating: G
Summary: Ford had been hard at work trying to get Stan's memories back for three days. And then someone finds out that he needs TLC too.
Note: Written for Forduary Week 3: Support
It was Mabel who first spotted the scars.
On the third night after Weirdmageddon ended, she went downstairs and spotted her two Grunkles snoozing side-by-side. Stan was sitting in his favorite stuffed chair, content in repose while he had one hand in a bowl of toffee peanuts. Ford sat next to him on a wooden chair, a yellowed photo album in his lap and his head leaning on Stan's shoulder. In this position, Mabel was able to see the red marks that the turtleneck sweater usually covered.
Her scream of horror woke everyone in the house. The two older men jumped and knocked their heads together. Upstairs, Dipper fell off his bed and grunted in pain. Before Ford knew what hit him, Mabel jumped onto his lap and pulled down the turtleneck.
"What is this, Grunkle Ford?!" Mabel cried, looking close to tears as she surveyed the burn marks on Ford's neck.
"What? Mabel, this is nothing! I-it looks worse than it really is!" Ford spluttered, trying to pull up the neck of his sweater.
"Grunkle Ford, you got hurt!" Dipper cried; he had arrived in the room and saw what his sister spotted. "Bill hurt you!"
"Ford, you should have had that checked by a doctor," Stan chided. He frowned at his brother. “You’ve been going around helping me to jog my memory back while you’re hurt?”
“Look, this is nothing! It looks worse than it-hey what are you doing?” Ford yelped. Stan suddenly stood up, gently removed his great-niece and moved Ford from the wooden chair to the squishy armchair. “Stan what are you…?”
Ford’s sputtering came to a halt as Stan grasped one of his hands and exposed his wrist. He looked at the damaged skin and scowled.
“Kids, do we have a first aid kit in here?” Stan asked loudly.
“Way ahead of you, Grunkle Stan!” said Dipper, appearing next to him holding the red kit.
“Grunkle Ford, put this on while I make everyone some hot chocolate!” added Mabel as she jumped up and wrapped a large blanket around him.
“I’ll get the jellybeans!” Dipper shouted, following his sister out the door.
The next thing Ford knew, he was cocooned in a blanket, nursing a mug of hot chocolate after Stan checked and tended to his injuries on his neck and wrists. Mabel squeezed up next to him on the overstuffed chair while Dipper sat on the other side holding a bag of jellybeans. Stan just sat down on the wooden chair next to him as the film played in front of them.
“You all didn’t have to do this,” Ford murmured.
“We did this because we wanted to and we care about you,” Stan replied. He smiled as he watched two young boys race across the beach, brandishing wet paintbrushes and laughing as they tried to get paint on each other. “You take care of family, and family takes care of you. It’s that simple.”
Ford leaned back as he recalled his life for the past thirty-odd years. It was so long since someone went out of their way to take care of him, to make him feel safe, that his current situation felt both unusual and touching. For over half his life, he believed that there was no one you could trust. Recent events have changed that drastically.
It nearly cost him his family.
He looked at the children sandwiching him in the chair, then at his brother watching the yellowed film reel showing snippets of their childhood. The Shack was still undergoing repairs, and the plumbing had just been fixed. But they were here; he was here, and they were all right.
Ford leaned back and smiled.
Author:
chilibreath
X-posted to: Tumblr / FF.net / AO3
Rating: G
Summary: Ford had been hard at work trying to get Stan's memories back for three days. And then someone finds out that he needs TLC too.
Note: Written for Forduary Week 3: Support
It was Mabel who first spotted the scars.
On the third night after Weirdmageddon ended, she went downstairs and spotted her two Grunkles snoozing side-by-side. Stan was sitting in his favorite stuffed chair, content in repose while he had one hand in a bowl of toffee peanuts. Ford sat next to him on a wooden chair, a yellowed photo album in his lap and his head leaning on Stan's shoulder. In this position, Mabel was able to see the red marks that the turtleneck sweater usually covered.
Her scream of horror woke everyone in the house. The two older men jumped and knocked their heads together. Upstairs, Dipper fell off his bed and grunted in pain. Before Ford knew what hit him, Mabel jumped onto his lap and pulled down the turtleneck.
"What is this, Grunkle Ford?!" Mabel cried, looking close to tears as she surveyed the burn marks on Ford's neck.
"What? Mabel, this is nothing! I-it looks worse than it really is!" Ford spluttered, trying to pull up the neck of his sweater.
"Grunkle Ford, you got hurt!" Dipper cried; he had arrived in the room and saw what his sister spotted. "Bill hurt you!"
"Ford, you should have had that checked by a doctor," Stan chided. He frowned at his brother. “You’ve been going around helping me to jog my memory back while you’re hurt?”
“Look, this is nothing! It looks worse than it-hey what are you doing?” Ford yelped. Stan suddenly stood up, gently removed his great-niece and moved Ford from the wooden chair to the squishy armchair. “Stan what are you…?”
Ford’s sputtering came to a halt as Stan grasped one of his hands and exposed his wrist. He looked at the damaged skin and scowled.
“Kids, do we have a first aid kit in here?” Stan asked loudly.
“Way ahead of you, Grunkle Stan!” said Dipper, appearing next to him holding the red kit.
“Grunkle Ford, put this on while I make everyone some hot chocolate!” added Mabel as she jumped up and wrapped a large blanket around him.
“I’ll get the jellybeans!” Dipper shouted, following his sister out the door.
The next thing Ford knew, he was cocooned in a blanket, nursing a mug of hot chocolate after Stan checked and tended to his injuries on his neck and wrists. Mabel squeezed up next to him on the overstuffed chair while Dipper sat on the other side holding a bag of jellybeans. Stan just sat down on the wooden chair next to him as the film played in front of them.
“You all didn’t have to do this,” Ford murmured.
“We did this because we wanted to and we care about you,” Stan replied. He smiled as he watched two young boys race across the beach, brandishing wet paintbrushes and laughing as they tried to get paint on each other. “You take care of family, and family takes care of you. It’s that simple.”
Ford leaned back as he recalled his life for the past thirty-odd years. It was so long since someone went out of their way to take care of him, to make him feel safe, that his current situation felt both unusual and touching. For over half his life, he believed that there was no one you could trust. Recent events have changed that drastically.
It nearly cost him his family.
He looked at the children sandwiching him in the chair, then at his brother watching the yellowed film reel showing snippets of their childhood. The Shack was still undergoing repairs, and the plumbing had just been fixed. But they were here; he was here, and they were all right.
Ford leaned back and smiled.