Gravity Falls Twangst

No More Deal

It had been a few days since Weirdmageddon.

Days which the Mystery Shack crew had mostly spent trying to get Stanley Pines back to himself, by going over every possible thing that could be used to reclaim his memories-listening to old music, going around town to see everyone he'd ever talked to,* time and time again poring through Mabel's scrapbook. His twin Stanford worked the hardest at it, but all of the little group put their blood, sweat, tears and other fluids** into helping him.

For the most part, at least one of them was with Stan at all times,*** as if leaving him alone would make him forget everything again. But every once in a while he would beg for a little privacy in his room, which was granted for an hour or so until he was ready for the next part of his recovery program.

He had just been finishing up his hour of personal space when Ford came up to ask if he was ready to eat, and knocked once before opening the door without waiting for a response. Only to find himself staring in bewilderment at the scene before him.

A giant suitcase lay open on the bed, haphazardly overflowing with clothes, weapons, gold chains and a few back issues of Fully Clothed Women.**** The rest of the room looked like it had been caught in the middle of a tiny tornado; enough that for a moment Ford wondered if that was what had happened; in this town, he wouldn't be surprised.

Stanley was in the middle of the mess,***** sorting through more things to toss into the suitcase; his head jerked up guiltily when he saw Ford in the doorway.

"...What are you doing?" Ford spluttered.

As soon as he asked he knew he'd walked right into Stanley's reply, which was, in his Captain Obvious voice, "Packing."

He pursed his lips in annoyance. "Where exactly are you going?"

Stan shrugged. "H_ll if I know." He threaded his fingers through a set of brass knuckles and flexed once, before shoving them into an already-bulging pocket on his luggage.

Finally, feeling like one of the forest's question quails, Ford began to ask, "Why are you-?"

Stan became very interested in the Hawaiian shirt now clenched in his hands. "That was the de-" his tongue changed words quickly- "the agreement. And summer's almost over."

**-* --- *-* -** -* * * -** *** *- *-* * *- *-** ** - -*-- -*-* **** * -*-* -*- *** --- -- * - ** -- * ***

Ford just gaped at him in disbelief.

He'd thought things were okay between them now.

They'd spent hours upon hours talking and watching home movies together, apologizing multiple times for all their past mistakes.****** And yet Stanley still thought-

He didn't seem upset, though. Resigned, yes, as he balled the shirt and tossed it into the suitcase, but without the anger and resentment he'd been nursing in the weeks before Bill Cipher was unleashed on their town. So maybe he believed Ford had forgiven him, but still wanted him out of the house. He wasn't sure if that was a better or worse train of thought.

Stanley gave him a small, confused look, and Ford realized he'd been standing in the doorway with his jaw flapping for at least a minute. Quickly he closed it again, and began wracking his brains for some way to purge his brother of this delusion he was still under, in a way that would-hopefully-leave no room for doubt in his mind.

And then, like a bolt from the blue, he decided to talk about this on his brother's level.

"Stanley," he said softly, taking a small step into the room, "that agreement has been null and void for ages now."