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detectivejigsawpines · 4 years

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ORN-Finale (Mend the bond torn by pride)

Repent, sinners! The end is upon us!

It had been tempting to just come up with a creative lie; but somehow, as they gathered themselves into the truck, they found themselves telling Dan (whose driving had minimally improved when his body was no longer being controlled by a dream demon) more or less what happened. Surprisingly, he didn’t respond by thinking they were crazy and driving towards the nearest mental hospital. Instead, he frowned thoughtfully and muttered, “I thought that dream ended a little funny,” and pushed his foot further down on the gas pedal. A few minutes later, he added, “Matilda is never gonna believe this.”

Stan assumed that Matilda was the name of the girlfriend Bill had mentioned. Ford must have thought so too, because he leaned forward, wincing when the action jostled his shoulder. “Actually, Dan, it would most likely be beneficial for all of us if you refrained from telling her-or anyone else-about this at all.”

Dan’s meaty fingers tightened on the wheel. “But you said this demon guy possessed me when I was sleeping by persuading me ta make a deal with him or whatever. Wouldn’t it be better ta tell everyone else so they know not ta do that?”

Ford blinked like a startled owl. Stan suspected that he hadn’t realized the lumberjack was capable of drawing logical conclusions like that. “I-well-he did say that he was going to leave for other dimensions. And we’re planning to destroy the painting detailing how to summon him as soon as our injuries have been seen to, so I doubt he’s going to return here. Besides, as you stated, the likelihood of anyone believing our story without the firsthand experience you’ve had is…” he struggled for a better word, before ending lamely (probably too tired and weak from blood loss to come up with anything better), “...unlikely.”

After a bit Dan shrugged. “Whatever ya say, Pines.”

****

Fortunately for all of them, none of their injuries required overnight treatment-just more than a few stitches, some bandages, and some rabies shots, since Stan fabricated an elaborate story about their being attacked by coyotes (which they were forced to fend off with knives, and in the ensuing scuffle Ford had accidentally been stabbed), and the hospital staff were dumb enough to believe it. After they were cleaned up, Dan produced some spare flannel shirts, suspenders and jeans from his truck (since the contents of their packs had been more or less ripped to shreds by the Kill Billies; only a few things, like Ford’s journal and the truth teeth, had been salvaged), and browbeat both of them into accepting them until they could get different clothes. They were exceptionally large, making them look like some weird clown act from a traveling lumberjack circus, but they were warm and definitely more comfortable than some of the things Stan had been forced to wear in the past, so he wasn’t complaining.

Also fortunately, Ford still had his wallet on him (because of course the dork had brought his wallet on a camping trip), allowing him to pay their hospital bill instead of sneaking out while the nurse’s back was turned like Stan had been prepared to.

With that out of the way, Dan drove them back to Ford’s house to retrieve the acid from the fridge.

“...Do you mind dropping us off at the trail?” Ford asked as they returned to the truck, bearing a few more supplies he thought would be useful (Stan was still trying to get used to the idea of having spare supplies lying around if you lost the things you had), including flashlights this time. “We can probably make our own way back in the morning, but-”

“No.”

That drew the brothers up short. As did the way Dan was suddenly glaring at them out the window.

“...I suppose we have taken up a lot of your time,” Ford said at last, sounding a little hurt. “I’m sorry, I should have realized. It’s all right, we can find our own way-”

“If you think I’m gonna let ya travel back up there, where a pack o’ bloodthirsty hill folk is still roaming around, and get rid of the monster that got inta my dreams and used me as a puppet, all by yourselves, you are totally outta your minds. I’m comin’ with you.” Dan shoved the back door of the truck open using only one finger. “Now get in.”

“Dan-”

“It’s not optional, Pines.”

Stan and Ford looked at each other. Then, with a shrug, Stan approached the door and climbed in.

“Looks like we got no choice.”

Dan grinned through his beard.

“Nope.”

To Stan’s relief, Ford looked less disgruntled about having to work with someone else than he might have expected; he just climbed into the back with Stan.

****

Corduroy’s truck was surprisingly good at off-road terrain, taking them nearly all the way back to the cave before they had to get out and walk the rest of the way. In case the Kill Billies attacked again, Dan produced three hatchets from his seemingly-bottomless truck bed, giving one to each of them. Stan thought, with a small relieved shiver, that it was a good thing Bill hadn’t found those when he was threatening them; otherwise they would have had more to worry about than Ford getting a stitched-up shoulder.

They made it to the cave safely, however, and under Ford’s instruction they began dissolving the painting and inscription.

“In your FACE!” Dan roared, punching the picture of Bill before it could disappear; his fist combined with the acid created a substantial hole in the cave wall.

Stan and Ford both laughed gleefully, and chanted, “Death to the triangle! Death to the triangle!” with fists pumped like they were back in high school, until the last traces were gone.

By the time Dan drove them home the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

“You need ta come in and catch some sleep?” Stan asked as they left the truck. Then he remembered, guiltily, that this was not his house and he had no right to be inviting guests over.

“Nah, I can make it home okay,” Dan promised. “I’m a real MAN; I could stay awake for five days straight if I had to!”

“You’re starting to sound like this knucklehead-he tried that once when we were fifteen. He ended up crashing on the third morning and getting an earful from our ma on taking care of himself.”

Ford elbowed him in the gut-and immediately winced as the action jostled his stitches.

Dan guffawed, which turned into a wide yawn. “See ya later, dorks.”

Soon enough his taillights were winking out of sight as he rounded a bend.

For a moment the boys just stood there, swaying dazedly in place. At last, Stan flopped gracelessly onto the couch on the porch, creating his own yawn.

“You aren’t seriously planning on sleeping there, are you?” Ford asked, giving him a disapproving look.

“Watch me.” Stan stretched his legs out in front of him, burrowing a little into the folds of his giant shirt and turning up the collar. His eyelids were already starting to get heavy.

Then, to his surprise, Ford collapsed onto the couch next to him.

“Move over.”

Stan gave him a nonplussed look...but scooted enough for him to be comfortable. A few seconds later Ford’s head had dropped onto his shoulder, and his farthest hand had stretched over, burying itself in the folds of Stan’s sleeve.

The casual act of affection made something swell in Stan’s throat; all he did in return, though, was allow his head to droop onto Ford’s.

Seconds later he was out like a light.

****

When they finally woke up, it was well into the late afternoon, and they both had some interesting sunburns on their faces and part of their necks from where the sun had hit them during its passage. However, they both felt more than a little refreshed, and when they went inside Ford got started putting together a salve for their burns.

While he did that, Stan opened some of the canned supplies in the cupboard-specifically some corn, green beans and chili-and then on an impulse threw together more pancakes (which ended up with bits of hair in them again-he wondered if that was going to be a recurring thing). After they finished eating, Ford washed the dishes. It was all quite comfortable-you could almost call it domestic. And Stan wasn’t prepared for it to last much longer.

Sure enough, Ford cleared his throat once the dishes were set out to dry and he’d sat back down with the salve, as they were putting it on each other. “Stanley, there’s some things we should figure out.”

Even though he hadn’t finished his sentence yet, had barely even started it, Stan’s heart lurched in his chest. He really, really wasn’t ready to have a serious discussion with his brother, not after they’d already cleared a lot of the air between them and finally returned to some semblance of peace.

“I get it,” he said quickly.

Ford blinked. “Get what?”

“I-It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting-I won’t stay for too long, I promise. But if you’d at least let me hang around till your shoulder’s better, that’d probably be better for you-”

“STANLEY!”

Ford had grabbed him by the shoulders and was shaking him again, like when he’d said he deserved to be punished for what he’d screwed up for him.

Stan was very confused.

“I’m not trying to ask you to leave, you knucklehead! How could you think that, after you literally just saved my life?!”

“...But you said-back there, you said you’d wanted ta have your own life and identity an’ stuff-”

“Oh for g_d’s sake, Stan, that was back then! I didn’t mean for the rest of our lives!” He let go of Stan’s shoulders and opted to dig his hands into his hair instead. Stan hoped he wasn’t about to start tearing it out. “I-I’ve missed you, all right? I’ve missed having you around, I’ve missed having my best friend in my life, so unless you have a really compelling reason to leave, then will you please stay?!”

“But Dad-”

“Dad can suck a lemon for all I care. I don’t wanna lose you again.”

Stan’s breath hitched, and he was disappointed that he hadn’t been drinking something, because a sentence like that was definitely spit-worthy.

Ford started babbling something about maybe him looking for jobs around town, or going back to school to get his diploma if he wanted, but he wasn’t quite listening. His hand strayed into his pocket-where it closed around something.

Confused, Stan pulled it out-and his eyes widened.

It was a card.

A two of hearts, to be specific. One that was completely whole, except for a faint row of stitches that you could see down the middle if you looked closely.

How the heck-

Among other things that were weird about this, he was pretty sure he’d left the pieces of the card in the pocket of his other jeans when he put them in the washing machine; he’d never put them in the ones he’d borrowed from Dan. And even if he had, how would this have even happened?

On the other hand...this was a town that thrived on weirdness and defying expectations.

And he was so, so tired of being alone and unhappy.

Stan looked up at his brother.

“Okay. I’ll stick around if you want. But only cuz you’re beggin’ me. And if you’re left alone you might get in trouble with some other weirdo from another dimension or something.”

Ford let out a relieved-sounding sigh, and rubbed his knuckles against his head affectionately.

“You’re such a martyr to your own generosity, Stanley.”

“Yeah, I know.”

****

Somewhere far away, an old woman gave a satisfied smile.

For now, at least, all was well.

********

...Soooo, how’d I do?

Anyone interested in reading the rest of this AU? Because it is on AO3, but I could post it here if you begged me.

#flipside AU #Gravity Falls #stan pines #ford pines #dan corduroy #finale #reconciliation #knuckleheads reconnecting

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