#is there a Stan selfcest tag because stancest doesn't work

[smiley-mcdoggington]

HAPPY WHATEVER HAVE SOME CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT TW STANCEST (implied/referenced) TW STAN SELFCEST TW UNRELIABLE NARRATOR TW JOKES ABOUT ORGAN TRAFFICING TW IMPLIED DUBCON KINDA TW MICRO MACRO

Stan woke up about the same way he'd been waking up for the past three weeks - plus thirty years - that he'd had sole custody. To screaming.

He sighed, but he could already hear the other guy awake. It was kinda nice, sleeping next to a guy so paranoid of loud noises he was always up with the baby, but he couldn't have Jules thinking the wrong Stan was hers, so he heaved himself up anyway.

The other guy was holding her a little far from him, bouncing her a little. "Shh sweet pea, you're alright." He was muttering. There was something wrong with his voice, he never spoke more than a whisper and there was something off about the way he did, made him sound like a ghost, like even the mushiest words sound like he's going to drag you to hell with him. He wasn't a smoker, neither, he just sounded like that.

Stan put a hand on his shoulder but the other guy was already looking at him. "Hey, I got her, go back to bed." He said, and the other guy gave him the baby awkwardly and carefully with his cold ass arms.

"She's got strong lungs." The poltergheist of a man whispered.

"Yeah, I don't wanna hear shit like that from you." Stan replied, putting his daughter to his chest and hearing her start to calm down. He really had to teach the other guy how to hold a baby like it isn't gonna explode.

Stan had only recently learned the little crackly noises he made were a chuckle, but it was a relief to know he wasn't a total downer, Sixty already had that covered. "You think she'll get into singing?" He muttered.

"With our voice to inherit? No chance. Maybe she could get hired to voice hurricane warning sirens." More little crackly noises. It was kinda pathetic but the noise always made him smile.

Then the other guy's head snapped up like a startled deer. "Big Sixer's awake." He murmured.

Stan hummed. "C'mere, he probably wants to pet his fucking gerbil, take Jules back." He said, because the other guy was a chicken shit.

The guy held his arms out like they were made of wood. Stan put his baby's weight into them and then moved the guy's arms until it was almost the way he was just holding her. Jules only fussed a little before settling down on the other guy's shoulder, while he was looking slightly horrified. "Don't get too good at holding her, now, she still needs to like me more." Stan quipped, and the guy kind of relaxed.

Sixty kept a few nightlights in the basement so it wasn't pitch black, but it wasn't much, just enough to barely see movement out of the corner of his eye. "I ever tell you it's creepy how well you hear?" Stan whispered to the other guy.

"I hear normal, you're the one with the faulty ears."

"Trouble selling faulty equipment, ah?"

"Maybe if I need half a tank of gas."

Stan snorted, but then the hairs on his neck started prickling and he looked up to the space the other guy had already been looking at.

Sixty wasn't sixty for nothing, easily ten times the size of Sixer, and probably sixty years old to match. He was also way too quiet for a giant, it was like turning around and suddenly seeing a mountain looking down at them.

"Julia is quiet, does she need anything?" Ford asked. His voice was booming, once, then he did something with the sound waves or some shit. He missed being able to hear his boots a mile away.

Stan sighed. "Jules is fine, just clingy."

Ford chuckled. "She takes after her father."

"Hey smart guy I'm not the one with keychain-size cuddle buddies on my desk."

Ford chuckled a little more. "I suppose not." He said simply, and he really was good at making Stan feel small. Not arguing, not bickering, no back and forth, he was indulging a mouse because in the grand scheme of things what was the harm? It made Stan wanna hold Jules again, but he didn't. The other guy was doing pretty good at the whole holding thing. "Speaking of which..." There it was.

Ford didn't even have to ask, he just put his hand flat on the desk. Stan knew, vaguely, that he could say no. He had before, bit the hell out of his knobby old fingers and hid with Jules behind a picture frame relying on the honour system that Ford wouldn't just pick up his hiding place. But at the same time he didn't have a choice. He was tiny, he relied on Ford for everything, he owed him, and the other guy always got too spooked when Ford picked him up, so Stan was the one that had to entertain this. It was just a weird ass payment, nothing else.

He walked up to the hand, he knew better than to try walking onto it, skin had too much give to get a good footing, instead he put his knees on Sixty's fingers and crawled onto his palm. Ford's fingers half-curled around him like prison bars and then he felt Ford lift him like a fast elevator. It was dark, and Stan couldn't see the ground. Couldn't see how high up he was. It helped, a little.

Then the palm tilted into a warm chest, and Ford's thumb started rubbing his back. He had a strong heartbeat. The other guy would probably crack a joke about that, but Stan wasn't in a joking mood. His mouth was dry, he couldn't hear anything except Ford's breathing, his heartbeat, couldn't see in the dark, couldn't feel anything but the thumb rubbing idly at his back and the patch of hairless scar tissue Ford always put him against - frostbite. From thirty years of doing this while Stan was sleeping. It creeped him out, made his stomach turn, he'd been this powerless - useless - and Ford had kept him, got scarred from holding onto him and the other guy for no damn reason. It made him wanna lean harder into Sixty.

"You know, we could move your bed to our room." Ford mentioned.

"And listen to old me snoring? No thanks."

Ford hummed. "It would help me get up with Julia, let you sleep."

"Jules is half the size of your fingernail, and she's my kid."

"Technically since identical twins are genetically the same, she could be argued as my daughter as well."

"You're just smug she got your fingers."

"Maybe."

Stan snorted. It really was weird, Ford was fucking massive, it was terrifying, but also it was just Stanford. Older Stanford, the one that didn't leave him and his daughter to die.

And it always came back to Stanford. His Ford could have opened the portal no problem, if not for him then for Jules, Stan knew he fucked up, knew Ford hated him, knew Ford never loved him the way Stan wanted, but Jules didn't do anything, she wasn't even six months old yet, he would have been fine if Ford just went in for Jules, but in 30 years plus however long before Sixty found them he didn't bother. Stan curled in on himself, listening to Sixty's steady heartbeat, and tried not to think about his brother.

This Ford was warm. His heartbeat was a bit faster than before, his petting a bit softer. Stan probably did something wrong, now Sixty's giant nerd brain was thinking something. He couldn't even be someone's hamster right.

"Knucklehead?" Ford asked quietly, he was moving, talking to the other guy, and Stan punched his chest even though Ford probably couldn't even feel it. He was only doing this because the other guy was scared of heights more than him, Ford better not try replacing him.

He couldn't hear what the other guy was saying, or if he was talking at all, whatever sound fuckery Ford had done seemed to only make him louder to Ford.

Then Ford hummed again, Stan felt it like an earthquake, and he was gently pulled away, put back down on the desk. His legs felt weak, everything was freezing cold outside Ford's hand, he didn't know if he wanted back or if he wanted to disappear.

Then the other guy was next to him. Ford was saying something but all he could focus on was the cold arm bumping his. The other guy wasn't looking at him, it was like him sitting there was a coincidence, didn't look at Stan while he tried to get himself to stop fucking shaking.

His sweet baby girl was babbling, now, she hadn't gotten words down yet but she was trying. She put one fat little hand on his nose and he snorted, taking his baby back while the other guy relaxed against his shoulder like he'd done anything but hold the cutest baby in the world for a few minutes.

Stan vaguely saw arms on the desk, off to the side. Ford was probably gonna sleep in his desk chair now, big Stan was definitely gonna give him shit for that. Stan himself would but he didn't feel like it. He felt like sitting there a while.