Yay! Tw: Stan Pines. (Burns, Scarring) EDIT: I forgot a trigger warning for Panic attacks. Oops. Well, now you know.

Stan yawned, nearly dislocating his jaw with the force of it. He was exhausted. Despite just waking up, he felt even more tired than when he fell asleep.

Working on the portal every night was taking its toll.

He rubbed at his eyes as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, wincing when the burn on his back stung with the arm movement. It wasn't healing very well, the glow from when it was first embedded into his flesh still lingering even after he rinsed it off. He had a feeling it wouldn't heal for a long while.

He finally opened his eyes properly and immediately went back to rubbing his eyes.

Everything was different. The bed itself wasn't in the right spot, and the room, originally filled with papers and dust since Ford never seemed to use it for anything other than storage, was now covered in picture frames filled with people he didn't recognize. He felt himself begin to hyperventilate, what was going on?!

While a part of him was freaking out and internally screaming, the other was taking note of everything different. He wasn't wearing the clothes he remembered falling asleep in. The tank top and boxers were too big, hanging off his skinny frame. The entire room was a lot homier and comfortable, but it was definitely the same room, in the same house. He took a steadying breath.

No need to freak out yet. Get some answers, then you can freak out. Maybe from these people? Stan held one of the photos in his hand. The kids in the picture looked like twins, and it made his heart ache, yearning for his own brother, who only months ago was pushed into the portal Stan was working so hard on. Wait, the portal! What happened to the portal?! He felt tears prick at his eyes but forced them away. He had to keep it together. Something was wrong here, and he needed to figure it out.

Fight, survive, adapt.

Well, he thought. First things first, he couldn't leave the room without something to wear, the clothes he had on were practically falling off him. He left the picture on the bedside table and ignored what looked like dentures floating in a cup. Those weren't his, surely. He was pretty proud to say he kept his teeth in good condition, considering he had been homeless and all.

He opened up the closet and stared. A black suit, a rather snazzy one he thought, a button down white shirt and beige pants, and...ah! There we go, a white t-shirt and jeans. They looked rather old and unused, but they looked like they might fit him. Plus, they were clean. Which as more than he could say for what he was currently wearing. He didn't know what to think but hoped that if these belonged to someone else that they wouldn't freak out on him. It's not like they- if there was a they- left him with much of a choice.

He beat the dust off them and did his best to ignore the pain in his shoulder as he slid the shirt over the symbol. It hurt like heck, but that wasn't anything to cry over. Especially not right then. The jeans slid on a bit easier, and he kept the boxers on since he didn't really feel like rummaging through what felt like a stranger's underwear drawer. Sure, they were too big but better than nothing.

That done, he looked himself over in a large mirror hanging on the wall and nodded at himself. Better. At least now he didn't feel like he was going to flash anyone. That would be...traumatizing. On both ends. That finished, he figured he should probably go explore, maybe find someone to help him. He moved to open the door and put his hand on his wrist, looking for a hair tie that wasn't there. Dang, guess his hair would have to stay down then.

The door opened with an agonizingly loud creak and he flinched. Loud noises still made him nervous. He stepped out into the hallway and gasped, eyes wide with wonder. Everything looked exactly how he remembered, but not. It was all older and moved around. He jumped slightly when he thought he heard voices echoing down the hallway. They didn't sound old...more like prepubescent kids. Stan's brow furrowed and he thought back to the photo in the bedroom. The twins maybe?

Stan crept quietly, unsure if there wasn't any danger. He wished he had thought to grab a weapon, but the didn't even know where one was. He was trying to get help anyway, not fight anyone. He made it to the end of the hallway, cursing every creak the floorboards made and peered around the corner.

He was right. The kids from the photo were sitting the kitchen, eating breakfast. He felt himself relax, and step out of the hallway. They didn't notice. One of them seemed to be lecturing the other about something. They both laughed and Stan, realized he had to try and get their attention. He cleared his throat nervously.

They whipped around in unison, staring at him in shock. Stan scratched his head and smiled, although it was a bit forced.

"uh- hey... kiddos. Um, where am I? I- I mean I woke up down the hallway and I've been living in this place, but now everything is all messed up and-yeah."

The girl shrieked and Stan took a hasty step back, eyes wide with alarm. She bolted out of her seat and enveloped his legs in a very unexpected hug. He pulled away quickly and frowned. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?!" He asked. She seemed upset by this, but the boy spoke first.

"Grunkle Stan?" The boy asked, confusedly. Stan cocked a brow.

"Who? And what's a Grunkle?" He looked at both of them with uncertainty and the boy told the girl to inform Stan while he went to go get help. Stan stood by helplessly. Stan turned his attention to the girl as the boy left and she immediately started babbling, dragging him into the small kitchen.

"Hi! I'm Mabel Pines, and that was my twin bro-bro Dipper! You are our Great-uncle or Grunkle Stan. You are young, for whatever reason and I think it is AWESOME! AHH! You get to meet everyone, again! This is amazing, wait, what do you remember? What day is it to you? Did you time travel here? Wait, no you already said you had no idea how you got here..." She trailed off and started making him a bowl of cereal, forcing him to sit. He found this girl endearing and didn't fight it as his mind tried to catch up with what she was saying.

His heart beat fast at the idea that he was related to these kids, where was Ford? Also, that time travel seemed to have been a viable option for this girl to consider. It shouldn't have been a surprise, I mean, he was working on a portal that leads to another dimension in the basement. If that was possible, who's to say time travel wasn't?

"Were related? Really?" Stan asked, a little dazed. He was starting to freak out again. If he had a great-niece and nephew, then who gave birth to them? How long had he been in this house, working on that darn portal? Was Ford saved yet? Why were they here? Why would he let kids into the house? His hyperventilating started up again and he rubbed his chest. He wasn't sure he wanted to have a break down in front of this- Mabel. Or anyone really. He shut his eyes as he focused on breathing, not hearing the words of concern from the girl.

What he did notice was the loud- definitely not childlike footsteps of a large person entering the room.

"Stanley?"

Stan's heart stopped.

Stanford Pines the real Stanford Pines, Stan's twin brother was standing in the kitchen doorway.

And he was so old. Stan did his best to hold back the tears, but couldn't stop himself from hyperventilating, his breaths becoming even shorter than before. He gasped as he tried to force air into his lungs, his chest squeezing in on itself.

That's when it hit him. Old or no, he had done it. He had gotten his brother-HOLY FRELL THAT HURT! Something had taken hold of his injured shoulder and he screamed out, eyes clenched shut and his fingers digging into his palms as the pain raged down his entire back, an eternity of burning. Then the pain was gone, slowly ebbing away and his breathing returned to the short breaths from before.

"Stanley? Stanley, can you hear me? I need you to breathe. You need to calm down." Stan heard the authoritative voice through all the pain and blood rushing in his ears and he tried to do as it said, he tried. The voice continued talking and he felt himself calming down, bit by bit. His brother was here. Ford was here, it was going to be fine. Ford was here...

...

Ford was working on another one of his sketches. Now that weirdmaggedon was over, and they still had over a week left with the kids, Ford found that finding something to do was a task he wasn't prepared for. He already asked if, after the summer, Stan would go sailing with him, and he'd agreed. But that was still some weeks away. He knew almost everything about Gravity Falls already, and what he didn't know, he discovered with the twins and Stanley, who was more than happy to go adventuring with them after they'd made up and his memories returned. But Ford, when he found himself alone, wasn't sure to do with himself, and taken up sketching up creatures he'd met on his travels.

He was documenting a nasty creature from D-132* which had the horrible habit of spitting acidic goo over anything and everything when it felt threatened. He had nearly been finished with it's large, textured tail when Dipper barged in without any warning. Ford nearly jumped a mile in the air. He set the journal down with a huff.

"Dipper! Don't scare me like- what's wrong?" Dipper was out of breath and fought to speak. Ford leaned closer,

"Grunke Stan! He's-"

Ford was already out of the room, Dipper in tow, still trying to catch his breath. Ford let him lead since he realized he didn't know where Stan might be. He had thought he was in bed since he seemed to enjoy late mornings on Sundays. Dipper sped walked towards the kitchen, which was a comfort since that meant Stan probably wasn't in immediate danger- as he had feared. Ford walked into the kitchen without preamble and stopped himself mid-step.

At the table was a man in a white T-shirt and jeans, old and dusty from lack of use. The man had long, brown hair and was hyperventilating. He looked up when Ford entered the room, and they stared at one another in shock. Ford found his jaw drop.

"Stanley?"

The man's eyes widened further and he nearly stopped breathing altogether. Ford realized he was having a panic attack. Work first, answers later. Ford stepped in front of his young Holy crap why is he young what is going on brother and put a steady hand on his shoulder.

That was a mistake. The good news was that Stanley was breathing, the bad news was that he was using that air to scream. Ford saw an agonized look cross Stan's miraculously youthful face. Ford recalled with a stab of guilt the scar that he had given his brother all those years ago. If Stan was young again, the brand was likely to be fresh too. He removed his hand quickly. He resorted to using words instead. If Stan was having a panic attack, he probably didn't remember being old, and seeing his now thirty years older twin brother was presumably freaking him out further.

"Stanley? Can you hear me? I need you to breath. You need to calm down." Ford tried to get him to look him in the eye and Stan seemed to steady himself. Ford smiled,

"Good. That's good, just keep breathing, alright? I'm here Stanley. We're here." Stan slowly calmed down and Ford continued to encourage him until he was breathing was back to normal. Ford felt a wave of pride hit him, that was uncommonly fast, for someone going through a panic attack, especially with all the shocks delivered to him during the attack. Mostly, he felt happy that it was over. He never wanted to see Stan like that again.

Ford waited patiently when Stan opened his mouth to say something. Stan swallowed and managed to croak out one word:

"Sixer?"

His voice was filled with disbelief and desperation, a need for all this to be true and not just some cruel dream. A need for his brother to be back. Ford chuckled sadly, eyes filled with understanding.

"Yes. It's me, Ley. You did it, you brought me back." Ford smiled cheekily and gave him a thumbs up, "Good job!" {Just trying to lighten the mood, okay?! Don't judge me.}

Stan smiled a little at that, at least Ford was still the stupid genius he remembered. Stan looked like he was going to say something else, but dry, painful coughing stopped him. Mabel appeared with a cold glass of water. Stan took it quickly, with a grateful smile and downed it faster than Ford liked. Stan gasped when he finally got all the water down and Ford rolled his eyes.

"Probably shouldn't have drunken it so fast, but do you feel better? What was the last thing you remember?" He asked, being sure not to touch his shoulder again. They- he would need to treat that later. (He didn't need the kids to see that. They'd already been through so much...)

Stan shrugged, "I woke up like this. I don't remember- what year is it? It's supposed to be 1979? I think?" He thought about it for a moment then shrugged again. That's when Stan smiled, laughing. He looked at Ford and the kids with new, more aware eyes.

"Is-is this really real? I've got a great-niece and nephew? Are you really here? Gosh Ford, if this is a dream I'm gonna kill ya after I bring you back." Stan's smile told Ford he was joking, but it still made him sad.

No matter what he said or wrote or did, Stan would've still brought him back. He-Stan was just so freaking loyal and it killed him. Because Ford wasn't. Ford wouldn't have done it. Not then.

But now...

Ford smiled softly and asked the kids to leave the room. He and Stan needed to talk. They left, albeit unwillingly. Ford called out to them after they left the room. "And no eavesdropping!" He yelled. He heard them laugh and scutter away. Stan raised a brow,

"Little gremlin's are they?" He asked, Ford, huffed.

"Oh please, they were perfectly normal until we started taking care of them. We'll make criminals out of them yet." Ford winked and Stan snickered.

"Never thought you as the criminal type Poindexter."

It was Ford's turn to laugh. "Please, my rap-sheet is longer than yours! Which is saying something. Well, sixty year old your's anyway." Ford's smiled fell and Stan mimicked his expression. They both sighed. Stan leaned back in his chair and stood up with a yelp.

"Dang! That smarts." He muttered as his hand went to his shoulder. Ford winced sympathetically.

"Here, is that bandaged already?" Ford asked. Stan shook his head and backed away when Ford moved closer.

"Uh- no. But it's fine, I mean, I don't need you to fix it. It's fine." Stan looked away, still holding it with his left hand.

Ford huffed, agitated. "Stanley, I already know that it's the brand I gave you, and I want to help. Please?" His voice got softer and Stan looked up at an old, guilt-ridden Ford. Just like the Ford that apologized over and over before Stan punched him into the multi-verse. Stan shrank away, afraid he'd hurt his brother again. He tried to change the topic.

"It's fine really, I'm just surprised. Who'd knew you'd be the handsome one, Sixer?" Stan relaxed a bit and poked Ford's arm. "You even have nerd muscles! I need to work out more often to keep up with ya!"

Ford fought to hold back his laughter. He knew what Stan was doing, even if it was hilarious. "No Stanley, don't change the subject. I don't want it to get infected." Ford grabbed at Stan's arms and used his 'nerd muscles' to drag him to the bathroom. Stan looked a little baffled by what had happened but stood still. He didn't move even after Ford left.

Ford went to his study to find his first-aid-kit. He had one in the bathroom, but the one from his dimension-hopping included a fabulous salve that helped heal things incredibly fast. It wouldn't help with the scarring, unfortunately, but it would heal the burn faster. Ford found it in his black trenchcoat and returned to the bathroom where Stan was waiting, staring at his own reflection. Ford cleared his throat.

Stan jumped and turned around, smiling sheepishly. "Heya nerd." Ford raised his eyebrows.

"Vain much, Stanley?" He laughed when Stan half-shrugged.

"Nah, it's just weird. You look so old. I was making sure I didn't have your wrinkles, grampa."

Ford stuttered, "Excuse me! I am a proud Grunkle, thank you very much." He twirled his finger in the air in a 'turn around' motion and Stan turned around reluctantly. He pulled off his shirt while talking.

"How did ya even come up with that word? Was it the girl? Feels like she would do that. What happened? When did I save you? Did I save you? Was it someone else? Please don't tell me those dentures are mine..." Stan kept on babbling, but Ford wasn't listening.

The symbol still glowed bright red on his brothers back. It must have hurt worse than the Grimlights claw. Ford stared at it in horror and didn't notice when Stan stopped talking.

"Ford...?" Stan turned around again to see Ford blinking rapidly. "Hey, hey! What's wrong?!" Stan stepped closer, and Ford took a step away at the same time, rubbing at his eyes with one hand.

"Ford...what's wrong?" Stan reached out with his good arm nervously. "You're kinda freaking me out..."

Ford took a deep breath and chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I apologize. How long, too you, has it been glowing like that?" Ford collected himself and Stan blinked, shaking his head as he let the question sink in properly.

"Uhh- since it happened? So about...three months? I'm not sure exactly. I'm not really- wasn't really keeping track." Stan switched to past tense, even though it felt strange to think he wasn't actually in 1979 anymore. Ford looked shocked,

"What?! But, that's not...that symbol doesn't, it's a protection rune! It should have stopped burning moments after it happened!" Ford through his hands in the air in frustration and gave Stan an apologetic look when he stepped back away from Ford's swinging arms.

Ford cleared his throat again. "Sorry, it's just, I don't understand why it's still hurting you..." Why I'm still hurting you. Stan shook his head vigorously.

"No! I mean," Stan cleared his throat too and sighed. "I mean, this ain't your fault-no!" Ford tried to intercede." It isn't! I started it." Stan rubbed his neck. Ford sagged in defeat. He didn't want to argue again.

"It really isn't your fault Stanley, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-you should probably turn around again. I don't know if this salve will work on a still-burning rune. Is it hot like it's still burning? Or is it just the glowing?" Ford asked, trying to return the conversation to something more familiar-facts.

"Um- just the glowing I think. It burns like- I can't swear can I? Kids. Well, it doesn't seem to actually radiate heat anyway."

Ford nodded, smirking when Stan felt the need to censor himself. It was funny to see Stan already change his mental attitude to accommodate children he'd barely met. Ford found that the salve went on fine and went to bandage it. Stan didn't flinch the entire time he was working on it, which made Ford frown. It must have really stung. He felt like he'd underestimated his brother before now.

He tied off the fabric in a neat knot and dusted off his hands in satisfaction. "There, if the salve works properly, it should be back to normal in a couple days. That is if we can't change you back by then."

Stan turned around and gave him a confused look. "Change me back- oh. You mean make me an old wrinkly monster, seriously Ford, what's going on? How can you just change someone's age? Why is time-traveling normal around here?" Stan looked like he had a million more inquiries, but held back, waiting for Ford to answer.

Ford wasn't sure what to say. The simple explanation was 'this is Gravity Falls, what did you expect?' but he was sure that wouldn't satisfy Stan's curiosity. Ford debated internally with himself for a moment before throwing his shirt back at him.

"Come on Stan. I need to show you something."

A lazy ending to a random fic. Your welcome. This will only continue if I feel inspired since I have so many other fics to update. Dang, I'm too impulsive. I have like...five? Fics to update. Okay, technically I don't 'need' too, but I want to. Thanks for all the love guys, your the best! Based off that one persons au 'borrowed time.' Go read it, because it's awesome, although a lot more angsty than this is. Yay for heartbreaking Stangst!

Stan: I give up, you will forever torture me, won't you?

Ford: I do notice you like giving Stan the real mental issues and me the guilt. Why is that?

Me: *Shrug* Maybe I'll make a really angsty multi-chaptered Ford-centric fic. You never know... :)