goodguygrifter ([personal profile] goodguygrifter) wrote 2015-12-31 02:23 am (UTC)

Stan barks something breathy and not at all amused, then sniffs and wipes at his face, and he's too deep in his own shit to think twice about what it means that Ford even asked. "If I'd been here, if I'd just had the balls to stay on the damn phone for more than two seconds, you think you would have-"

He turns to Ford then, his angry gaze flicking down to those scars and back up to Ford's face. He remembers then that they're pretending his brother didn't do this himself, that there's no terrifying shadowy enemy living inside his brother's own mind, and that pretense, at least, he can keep up a little while. If it lets him stay here, keeps Ford from gettin' mad enough to try and kick him out, he'll pretend. (Could Ford have done that to himself, though? Could anyone? He cut his own damn head open, so- Stan doesn't know. He doesn't know anything about just what it is his brother can do.)

"You think anyone would have got to you that way? It's my job to look out for you. That's what I'm good for. But I was too scared and now you-" He waves toward his brother's neck, his face twisted up in anger and pain. "You can't unknow that kinda' thing. Whatever you been through, I was too- I coulda' been there, if I tried. And now you, you can never unknow it."

Then he leans forward and puts his face in his hands and keeps taking those big, quick breaths because what else is there to say? Ford may be the one who's good with those big words and the stupid-complex nerd theories, but Stan thinks he's covered all this pretty well. He don't know what Ford's gonna' do, now that Stan's made him see all this clear, but whatever it is, it won't be too far off the mark. Whatever it is, he kind of doesn't want to see it.

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