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It had started off as such a peaceful day.
Ford had began the day, sat quietly at his desk in the cabin, closing the door from the cold sea breeze that blew in off the deck. Stan instead had taken it upon himself to do the daily tasks, that were necessary on their journey, as quickly as physically possible, neither of them quite prepared for the sudden drop in temperature they had encountered as they drifted across the open waves.
They were miles from any ports, and further still from their next anomaly according to Ford's research and so as far as either of them were concerned it was a day to hide below deck, swaddle themselves in as much heat as possible and ring the niblings back home who were desperate for an update. And with that notion building a nostalgic excitement in both of them Stan had rushed above deck to get as much done as possible is an quick a time as possible, all so that absolutely nothing would keep them from that endeavour.
It had made Ford chuckle, just how raring to go his brother had become almost as soon as the idea had been mentioned. But he couldn't really blame him as his smile widened into a toothy grin and his eyes lit up with that soft endearing gleam they took on whenever the kids were mentioned. After all, he was sure that his expression was similar, his smile tugging at his cheeks as he tapped his pen against his journal with no small amount of jittering impatience. And really, who wouldn't be excited to talk to the twins back home? Their adventures were probably more exciting than theirs anyhow.
So now it was just a waiting game. Ford had sent a message to the kids back home and was setting about getting the last of his scribbled notes written up in neat into his journal while he waited for Stan to be done and for the kids to respond. There would be time for everything he was sure, what with the differing time zones and everything else the kids would be up to but he knew telling Stan that would have no effect whatsoever.
In fact if he shouted now, he was sure that Stan would dart down and then sulk at him for getting his hopes up.
He grinned at the thought, a soft chuckle escaping him. No, it was better to keep Stan occupied, maybe get some warm drinks ready for when he was done and have a few peaceful hours to themselves before they talked to the kids.
He was quite looking forward to it. Even if they lived together in such closed quarters, it still didn't mean they talked all the time about small trivial matters, nor did they take time to rest and unwind unless absolutely necessary. They were off on their adventures, after all! Just like they'd always dreamed. Most of the time, it seemed, they were chasing after the next big exploit. Or if they were taking a pause, it was more often due to a significant struggle with an anomaly- and those fretful times could hardly be called restful or relaxing in the whole scheme of things.
No, it wasn't very often that they actually got to just sit and stop and breathe for a moment.
It would be nice. Just this once to rest and relax-
" Ford!"
That is if the universe didn't have other ideas.
Ford's chair fell back to the floor with a thunderous clatter, his heart abruptly in his throat from the sharp yell. He was sure he'd left a dark line of ink across the entire neat page he'd been writing, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Something inside him lurched painfully as autopilot took over and he was racing towards the door without a second thought. It had been such a high pitch yell, so shocked, so insistent that everything else seemed insignificant in respect to his brothers well being.
His heart beat a discordant rhythm against his rib cage, in tune with the awful whistling alarm inside his brain- a mantra that something's wrong- something's wrong-
His imagination took over amidst the spiralling words, creating a myriad of scenarios- none of them good- that played out behind his eyelids, all of them showing him what he could find waiting for him on deck. He swallowed drily, praying to any deity that he'd encountered across the multiverse that none of them were the case.
Why couldn't they have just one peaceful day?
The cabin door groaned under his forceful exit, his shoulder slamming against it as he barged through. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment through the haze of survival instinct and concern, but his gun was already in hand and loaded as he darted out-
-and promptly skidded a metre out across the deck.
Ford blinked, gasping out an ice cold puff of air as he held his ground- barely, his stance wide and unsteady. He was used to all kinds of terrain from his years in the multiverse but that didn't mean it hadn't caught him unaware in the heat of the moment. He shook himself as he took in the white, cold flakes dotted across the deck, the cold layer of sheen that coated the wood, scarcely giving any of it a thought, his mind still caught in the panicked trap of finding Stan and whatever predicament he'd found himself in. He cursed himself for the lapse in judgement, stabilising his footing, head snapping from side to side as he tried to assess the situation with the minimal amount of movement. When nothing caught his attention, no flashing teeth or rocking boat he chanced something more reckless, his survival instincts now warring with his brotherly panic. "Stan?"
"Over here!"
Ford gave a long exhale of relief, not realising he'd held his breath as he waited for a response, another gush of mist exiting him at the sound of his brother's voice. He didn't sound hurt, that was a start, and he had enough in him to call back. All good signs. He sidled up to the wall of the cabin, turning to the unseen portion at the back of their small boat with his gun still ready in one hand as the other pushed against the wall, an anchor against the slippery wooden boards.
Even if Stan could speak that didn't mean they weren't in danger.
Ford took a steadying breath, slowly creeping down the small railed area towards the back of the boat. He couldn't hear anything now, not over the whistling wind that sent a shiver down his spine, and bit at his exposed ears, but he hesitated to call out again. He didn't want to give their assailant any more warning than he already had. Instead he stood himself just out of sight, counting down in his head, listening intently for a hint that Stan was there and safe and when there wasn't one, his hand steeled, his gaze hardening. He took one last second to ready himself before launching out, one hand latching onto the railing as the other came snapping up, gun in hand-
And found only his brother in his reticle.
He froze, blinking back against the small flakes that were continuing to blow in from across the sea, half thankful that Stan was staring out across the water instead of turning to face him just yet. He turned his attention in the direction he was looking, eyes desperately scanning for any sign of danger out in the dark, cold waters.
Even with nothing dangerous in sight, his heart still felt ready to leap out of his chest.
"Stan? What happened?"
Ford's eye went back to Stan, watching as his face changed, eyebrows furrowing and mouth down turning.
"Happened? Nothing happen- whoa!" Stan had finally turned to him, recoiling a step back at the gun still trained towards him. He cursed as his foot slipped, gripping tight to the bar to stop himself from going anywhere further than he'd intended. "Jesus- what the hell, Ford?"
Ford shook his head, his mouth a thin line as the warning inside his head clunked down into confused, hesitant silence. "Why did you shout for me?"
Stan blinked at him a few times, the pair of them seemingly suspended in a perpetual state of confusion as they both stared at one another. It was Stan who broke the silence, just as Ford went to repeat himself again, concerned that there was more to it than met the eye. He quirked an eyebrow, his eyes disbelieving and almost amused. "It's snowing."
Ford stared at him, the whistling warning starting up again, though now at a different key, filled with trepidation, as if it wasn't sure where the danger lay, or if there was any danger at all, and that was even more alarming. His face, however, turned deadpan. "I can see that." He lowered his gun, though still kept it in hand as his eyes skimmed across the water. "Why did you shout?"
He turned back to Stan when he didn't receive an answer straight away, finding the look he assumed was on his face mirrored back at him as his brother waited to have his undivided attention once more. "Because it's snowing ."
Ford didn't break eye contact with his brother, his mind ticking over the information through a fog, as if it couldn't quite believe him. When it finally registered, he closed his eyes, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Relief poured through him in equal measures to the irritation at being scared for no good reason. "We grew up with snow, Stanley. You lived in Gravity Falls for the last 30 years." He chanced another glance at his brother, feeling ready to look at him without yelling after a few moments of darkness, his hand rubbing against the sore spot on his chest where his heart had been beating it's painful melody. "It's snow , Stan."
Stan flushed, his eyes darting out across the water as he turned slightly away from Ford. His voice grew gruffer as he spoke, embarrassment permeating though he was obviously trying to hide it. "What? We're at sea . I didn't know it snowed out this far..." He sighed, eyes on his hands for a second. "Maybe that's obvious- probably, why wouldn't it? It just took me by surprise."
Ford closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath in. He paused to push all the emotion out. Stan hadn't meant to scare him, he'd been excited. They might need to have words but- that self-deprecation just wouldn't do. He opened his eyes again and leant against the railing beside his brother, taking in the minuscule white flakes as they flooded out across the water, a foam of snow that brushed through the waves and spun small dances through the air around their boat. He gave Stan's shoulder a soft bump as he hummed appreciatively. "I didn't know that either, never really crossed my mind."
He felt more than saw as Stan relaxed beside him at his words, the gruff edge sanded down again as they stood and stared. Ford felt a harder nudge back to his elbow, one that he was oddly used to from far too many conversations stood like this.
"Sorry, I scared you."
Ford huffed, shaking his head. They'd laugh about this later, he was sure.
But just as he was about to say as much, he glanced over at Stan, and the words stuck to his tongue.
It was just Stan, like he always was, but there was something else too, something that had him staring as his brother obliviously kept his eyes trained on the view.
It was an odd familiar feeling, something from so far back that the way it snapped to the forefront of his mind gave him whiplash with it's intensity. It wasn't all too dissimilar to the expression he had had this morning. His eyes were sparkling, his mouth curling up with a bright smile, just as it had with the thought of talking to the twins. But there was something else there, a different light, one of wonder, one of pure joy at something so simple that it took Ford completely by surprise.
And reminded him so so much of a much younger boy. One who would joyfully wake him up in the middle of the night just to tell it was snowing, every year no matter how many times they had seen it all before. One that would drag him off the first chance he had to go see everything covered in the soft sheen, to go stare at the beach and laugh at how strange it all seemed, to watch the sand and pebbles vanish beneath a white coating right up to the waters edge.
He'd forgotten. Those soft little memories that sit there in the quiet, darkness, giving only that soft hint of warm nostalgia that tinged those childhood memories. Of course he remembered playing in the snow, snowmen and snowball fights and all the other things- but it hadn't been important. It had all been filed away into his childhood to resurface only as fuzzy recollections. Endearing meaningless moments. They hadn't been the big ones, not like the Stan'O'War. Nor had they been so special to escape the distraught tirade as he clamped down on them for years and years. When every warm memory had had a bitter, cold edge to it. When waking up to snow for the first time without a joyful yell had felt so bitingly cold and he'd pushed all the memories so deep down that he couldn't even explain why.
But now... now it felt warm again, even with the cold nipping at his fingers.
A different warmth perhaps, but a warmth nonetheless.
As he stood and stared, it looked like the years had dripped off of his brother. Of course they were still old, he knew that logically, but it was so hard not to see the boy he'd always known, just sitting there below the surface, in the bright young eyes that gleamed from behind thick glasses.
His brother was still the same.
Some thing's never changed.
And after everything, after just how close they'd come to losing him- how they had lost him for a time- the knowledge that after everything that had happened, he could still stare with that same wide eyed look of wonder at the simplicity of snow...
There was nothing that quite compared to it.
"But..."
Ford started as Stan spoke, locking on to his eyes as they glanced at him for just a second before out to sea again.
"...It really is something, isn't it?"
Ford swallowed, the lump in his throat growing at all the connotations the notion had now brought up. He followed Stan's gaze out across the water once more, really taking it all in, though his answer would have been the same whether or not he got it or not now.
"Yeah." He coughed, his voice coming out more croaked than he'd intended. "Yeah, it really is."
And really, with the way Stan beamed at him in return, he knew it was the best answer he could have given.
~~~
They stood in silence watching the show for a few minutes before something glaring obvious became apparent.
Stan raised an eyebrow once more as he felt Ford shift beside him, giving him a once over that confirmed his suspicions in one fell swoop. "That worried that you didn't grab a coat?"
Ford's mouth twisted down, scowling at him ever so slightly. "It wasn't the first thing on my mind if I'm completely honest."
Stan snorted. "Yeah, I know. You should probably go grab it now though, right?"
Ford hummed, tapping his fingers against the rail before giving him a quizzical look. "I mean I could but... we also have already promised we'll call the twins."
Stan gasped, Ford recoiling ever so slightly at the sudden loud noise. "The kids! They'd love to see this!"
And with that he was off like a shot- or as close to a shot as he could be before slipping and grinding to a sudden halt against the cabin wall. Ford watching him with his eyebrows raised, with no time to really help or stop him with his sudden propulsion, instead only able to observe as one foot went out from under him and his arms windmilled precariously.
How he didn't go over was a mystery in and of itself to Ford. "Walk, knucklehead."
"...Shut it, Poindexter." Stan huffed back, regaining his footing and walking, though still at a faster pace than Ford deemed really necessary. "Come on, how much will Mabel love this? We can't tell them it snowed out here and then not show them evidence. I'll even get your coat while I'm in there."
He guessed he couldn't argue with that infallible logic.
Or maybe he just knew there was no point trying.
Ford laughed, a bark that really couldn't be stopped as he leant back against the railing, staring straight up at the sky as the small flakes continued to patter around him. Despite the cold that made him shiver, he couldn't help but feel exponentially warm at it all, relief curbing into endearment and fond nostalgia.
Perhaps Stan had a point.
Sometimes something simple could be really special, after all.