Chapter Text
Ford looked out over the sprawling destruction that was Gravity Falls. One arm crossed over his abdomen, in the other he nursed a cocktail glass topped off with swirling golden liquid. Bill was none too pleased if he came back and there was ever any left, but Ford could only stand so much of the stuff in one gulp. Besides, if he drank too quickly, the toll on his body was nothing to scoff at. He still had no idea what was even in it. Every time he had asked, Bill’s eye had simply creased in silent amusement, or else he had gone on talking like the man had never said anything.
Little fires dotted the landscape all over. Well, they weren’t so little, were they? Ford always made himself sick with these viewing sessions, but it was the only stimulating thing to do around here, aside from pinging out notes on the piano. And besides, why should he be spared from all the misery? If he was sheltered from it, up in his obsidian tower, the very least he could do was feel bad about it. He took another sip from his glass and grimaced. Great Scott, that was disgusting.
“Sixer?” The name sent unpleasant ripples across Ford’s nerves, but when he turned and saw his twin’s face, he let himself relax. A little.
“Stanley, you’re alright.”
“I better be. That was part of the deal and all…” Stan dusted off the sleeves of his suit, looking around. “Wouldn’t want you, uh… suffering for nothing.” His eyes traveled from the painting over the fireplace and then to the lavish, dark red robe Ford had cinched around his waist.
“Bill had a different flavor of suffering in mind for me.” As if to punctuate that statement, he tilted back his drink and nearly coughed it up again.
“Yeesh.”
“It tastes like bitter defeat,” Ford explained. He saw the face his brother was making. “I’m not being poetic, Stanley. He somehow made it taste like the actual poignant sting of failure. I would offer you to try some if I didn’t think it was slowly poisoning me.”
“Yeah, pass on that one. Why don’t you just dump it out in the sink? You do have a sink in here, don’t you?”
“Ah, yes, of course, why didn’t I think of that?” Ford’s expression softened, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snippy. It’s just… He would know. By the time I’m to the bottom of one of these, I’m… different. For quite some time.”
Stan seemed to be snapping these pieces together in his head, the drink, the robe, the golden “wedding band” around Ford’s throat. Clearly, it was forming a picture he didn’t like. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
Ford eyed him and then let his gaze drop.
“Poindexter? You’ve been thinkin’ up a plan, right?”
“Of course I have! Every second of every hour, and I just keep hitting dead ends. He’s virtually omnipotent. I’m bound by contract to him, and even me thinking of ways to get out of it could give him a reason to renege on his end of the deal and hurt you! Or worse, the kids!”
“So that’s just it?! We lie down and roll over?!”
“I-I don’t know, Stanley. I’m mated.” Off his brother’s look, he added, “That’s a chess term.”
“I-I know it is! But could you not use it next time?”
Ford sank down onto the flesh couch. He hated that it hardly bothered him anymore. “Maybe this is it. Maybe… I’m meant to accept this fate, as punishment for—”
“Stop! Stop that! Do you hear yourself?” Stan strode forward until he was in his brother’s face. “You’re this pathetic? You hand the universe over to Bill Cipher on a silver platter and then give up?! You’re probably the only one smart enough to think up a way out of this mess, so how about less wallowing and more scheming?! Who cares what happens to me?!”
Ford screwed his eyes shut as he was berated. “I do! What kind of idiotic question is that?”
“And the kids, you want them to grow up in a world where Bill Cipher is king?!”
“Of course not, but you don’t know the things he’d do to them if I acted out, Stan! He’s not going to spare them because they’re children! He will torture them!”
Stan smacked the glass out of Ford’s hand. It shattered on the floor. Ford gaped. “Stan, you shouldn’t have—”
“I don’t care what he thinks! Neither should you!”
“Stop framing it like I’m on his side!”
“Aren’t you, now?!”
“I’m only trying to be pragmatic about our options! And thank God I am, or who knows where we’d all be right now?!”
Ford froze then, his muscles tensing at a familiar presence in the room.
“YIKES. Who knew the family reunion would get this VOLATILE?” Bill circled them with glee, his eye trained on them all the while. “HEY, I guess I’m part of the family now too, isn’t that right, Fez?” He looped an arm around a growling Stanley and wiggled his ring finger. “We’re brothers-in-law! Ha! Who would’ve thought?”
“Bill.” Ford’s breaths were painfully shallow. “I—”
“And Sixer!” Bill was suddenly in his face, his eye taking up the majority of Ford’s field of vision. “I had NO IDEA you thought about me this much when I’m away! That’s so sweet!” With no warning, his eye turned to a mouth and trailed saliva up Ford’s cheek and temple, leaving his glasses askew and his face scrunched up in distaste. The demon’s eye blinked back to normal. “WELL? Where’s my WELCOME HOME KISS?”
Once he had gathered himself enough, Ford leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on Bill’s face, near the corner of his eye. Bill giggled like a little schoolgirl.
“OH NO. It looks like somebody was REAL CLUMSY! Let me refresh your drink, doll!” The shattered glass reassembled itself and floated into Ford’s hand. The liquid leached out of the carpet, pouring itself back into place. “You hardly drank any! Here, let me help with that.”
“Bill—” was all Ford managed before his head was tilted back and about half of the glass’s contents were dumped down his throat. He gagged and almost choked, but somehow got it all down. When he was allowed to hold his head upright again, he found it quite the effort to do so. His brain felt fuzzy and full of cotton. There was a weird glittery filter over the world. He felt far more relaxed, despite the pounding point of tension persisting at the back of his mind. Any worry was now faint, like a distant star.
“Ford!” Stan shouted, but it was difficult to care that that was happening.
“Mhm,” was all he said in response, finally letting his head loll and his eyes close. “Mmm.”
“He’s just so TENSE all the time,” Bill explained casually. “This is how I get him to LOOSEN UP. And hey, I guess it makes it harder for him to YELL at you too. You’re welcome.”
“You’re sick, you three-sided freak!” Stan shook his fist, almost like a threat, as if he could do anything to the dream demon. “I’ll end you!”
“DOING AWAY WITH THE PRETENSE, HUH?”
“Pretense,” Ford laughed for some reason, stretching himself across the full length of the couch and propping his head up with his forearm. This seemed to delight Bill, who began petting through the man’s hair.
“IT IS A PRETTY FUNNY WORD, ISN’T IT, IQ?” The demon swirled the drink a little and then brought it to Ford’s lips.
“Mhm,” Ford agreed, his response partially muffled by the glass as he sipped down more of the mysterious golden liquor.
“SEE? I enjoy the MENTAL SPARRING, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes that big brain of his gets in the way.” Bill affectionately tapped the side of Ford’s head as he let the quarter-full drink hang in midair. “ANYHOO.” He rotated to face Stan head-on; the movement was uncanny. “You should get back to the twins! Cook up another adorable scheme that’s doomed to fail! Sixer and I will watch from up here!”
“S’anley,” Ford slurred, shaking his head in protest, but he didn’t get very far in his thought before Bill pressed the rim of the glass to his lips again. “B- ill– please- I-I can… can’t…” The room was spinning now, violently, and he felt like he was going to be sick. It was like he was speedrunning a very bad hangover.
“SURE YOU CAN! Don’t worry, I won’t let you throw up.” Another pat on the head, and Ford groaned his distress as his throat bobbed and the last of the liquid disappeared down his esophagus.
“Unh… S’an… Stan…” His head dropped onto the couch, eyes struggling to focus.
“Sixer.” Stan started towards his twin, but before he could make it more than two steps, Bill snapped his fingers and Stan was gone, returned to where he’d come from. The demon sank onto the couch and arranged Ford until his head was on his lap (however much of a lap Bill had), fingers continuing to card through his hair.
“Come on. Don’t look at me like that, Fordsy. The relatives can come to visit another time.”