Chapter Text
“You’re a girl?”
The question sounded accusatory. It shouldn’t have, but it did. By all logic, you understood there was nothing wrong with being a girl. You might’ve dressed casually enough to make it ambiguous (it was summer, and you wanted to be comfortable), but you never outright denied it.
Your heart pounded against your chest, and a feral part of your brain wanted to get defensive and angry at the twin’s sudden change in attitude.
“I am.” You confirmed. You tried to keep your voice neutral, but with how both boys flinched, it must’ve come out colder than expected. “Why?”
Stan observed seriously, almost sternly. You stared back defiantly, unwilling to back down from the sudden gender bias the boys shared. However, just as Stan was about to say something, Ford lept out of the booth and bolted out of the café.
The action startled the both of you so much that the tension immediately cleared and was replaced with concern.
“Ford!” Stan yelled. He awkwardly shuffled out of the booth but turned around just before he followed suit. “We’ll talk about this later!”
You scrunched your face and held up a hand, baffled and mildly offended. You tried to fathom what had gotten into the twins, but any reasons you came up with just made you angry. It took you a few minutes to muddle through your whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, a sting of betrayal – you thought you had something good going – until you could steady your breathing, you couldn’t hear your heart next to your ears anymore, and your fists unfurled.
A part of you hated how big your emotions were. You were never like this when you were an adult, and learning to regulate emotions and bodily impulses were things children needed to do, but you had already done that song and dance. Why did you have to do it again? Urgh.
Hilda, the sweetheart she was, asked if you were okay when she noticed the boys were gone but with all the bagged food left on the table. You reassured her that everything was fine and that the twins just needed to get something. Still ill and not functioning at 100%, Hilda accepted your explanation at face value.
You helped her pack the plates, utensils, and glasses before packing the food into a paper bag and heading upstairs. You left the bag of food on the dining table and went to take a shower. You had a long day. It started out good and then plummeted because of one thing you had no control over or were hiding.
You reminded yourself that you weren’t going to be mad about it anymore, but it kept replaying in your mind.
It wasn’t until you were clean, dried, and clothed that you felt better.
Walking into your room, you slumped against the door with a sigh before walking over to the window to see if the twins had returned home. As it turned out, they had. Ford was pacing back and forth, his hands waving around as he said something you couldn’t hear. He stopped, looked at his hands, and hid them behind his back. Stan then stepped into view, saying something to Ford, but stopped just as Ford turned, cutting him off and opening his mouth just as both of their eyes looked through the window and saw you standing there staring at them.
The high-pitched scream was immediately followed by furious yelling from downstairs.
As their friend, you didn’t laugh.
…And it was hard.
You held up your finger, telling them to wait a minute, dashed out, laughed, grabbed the boys’ food off the table, and returned. You weren’t gone for long and were glad to see the boys didn’t take your momentary absence as another opportunity to flee. Not that they could really go anywhere for long. You were neighbours, after all. You would run into each other eventually.
Climbing up into your window nook, you placed the bag at your feet, opened the window and then motioned the boys to do the same with theirs.
Stan looked at Ford, nudging him with his shoulder and motioning with a tilt of his head, urging him to start the conversation. When Ford kept his hands clenched behind him and stared at the corner of the room, Stan threw up his hands in frustration, stomped over to the window, and, before Ford could protest, threw it open.
“Whadya want, Maes?” Stan blurted threateningly. It wasn’t threatening in the slightest.
You frowned but then grabbed the bag and held it out.
“Here. You left it behind.” You said.
Stan blinked, stared at the food and then at you.
“What? You’re…still givin’ it to us?” He asked.
“Duh,” You rolled your eyes. “You ordered it, and you got your cooties all over it.”
“Hey! I don’t have cooties! Only girls have that!”
“Then take your food!” You shouted back.
Stan, in his adrenaline-fueled momentum, snatched the bag from your hands and inspected it before realising just what he had done. He wasn’t meant to take the food. He was meant to be a being of titanium willpower, yet there he was with a bag of the most delicious, free food he had ever had in his hands. He didn’t understand. You were supposed to be angry at them after what happened. Hell, from how you talked to them after they asked, they were absolutely sure you were angry with them.
But here you were, giving them their food and waiting to hear them out.
Stan twisted around and showed off the bag of goodies to Ford with a giant gap-tooth grin on his face. He couldn’t believe their luck! Ford frowned at his excitement, so Stan started pointing at it, trying to convey just how cool it was that they still got free stuff despite their colossal screw-up almost destroying their new friendship.
“So,” you said, “are either of you going to tell me what happened back there?”
Stan turned around and didn’t see Ford shrink into himself again, but you did. Clearly, whatever was going on had something to do with Ford. Stan, from what you had gathered, was too bullheaded and always said the negative-first thing on his mind, so if he did have an issue with you, he would’ve said it already.
“Sixer here’s had a fear of girls ever since Cathy Crenshaw screamed when he held her hand.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, confused.
“Stan!”
“Why?”
“Wh-What do you mean why?!” Ford hissed. You raised your eyebrow at him, which only further set him off. He stormed over to the window and held up his hand, six fingers splayed for you to clearly see. “Look! I’m a freak! I thought you were smart, Maes! No one wants to be around someone like me!”
You stared at his hand, specifically his fingers, and then looked up at Ford. His anger brought out a confidence in him you liked seeing.
“I could say the same for you, Stanford. I thought you were smart,” you replied. You crawled onto your knees, shuffled over to the window ledge and waved your arm, urging the boys to move out of the way.
“Wo-Woh, what the heck are you doing?” Stan asked nervously.
Ford froze. Seeing you climb out of your window, it took a second for Ford to fathom what had gotten into you to jump out of a second-floor window and across an alley just to get into their room. The twins stepped back slowly but tried to stay close enough to catch you if something went terribly wrong.
You jumped, Stan and Ford flinched, and you crawled in through their bedroom window with ease.
You definitely wouldn’t have been able to do that if you were five years older.
Not bothering to take in your surroundings, you crossed the short distance between you and the nervous, glasses-wearing dork you had gotten to know since yesterday and snatched up his hands in yours before he dared to hide them again. Ford jumped at the contact, but you held firm. You watched him, waiting for when he would look at you, but he was shell-shocked and staring at your clasped hands.
“Stanford Pines.”
He finally looked at you, and you lifted your hands up and laced your fingers together. They just felt like hands. They were warm. There was nothing strange about them at all.
“You are not a freak. Do you hear me? If anyone says otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me.”
“And me!”
“And Stan.” Hard determination softened into a gentle smile as you saw Ford’s face falter and his eyes close to tears. “You are so much more than just your extra finger, Ford. You’re smart, courteous, funny, and just beautiful. And I’ll tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”
“…and if I never believe it?” The little voice found its way out of Ford’s mouth.
You squeezed his fingers between yours.
“Then you better memorise all of my phone numbers and addresses so I can tell you ‘cause I’m not going to chase you across the multiverse when you burn brighter than the sun. Can you do that for me?”
Ford sniffed and nodded. When he went to scrub his eyes with the back of his sleeve, you loosened your grip and felt him slip out. Stan went to his brother’s side and pulled him into a one-armed hug. When Ford stopped wiping his face, you saw him stare at your empty hand. Smiling, you held it out to him, and ever so slowly, he took it.
The three of you were silent while Ford collected himself.
“I-I can do that,” Ford whispered. “Th-Thank you.”
“Anytime,” you smiled before you tried lightening the mood a little. “Does that mean I’m allowed to continue living as a girl now?”
Ford snickered, “I suppose I can permit it.”
You shoved him lightly, and he laughed weakly while Stan tightened his embrace before giving his brother an affectionate noogie.
Despite your reassurances, you knew it would take Ford more time to be comfortable with you again after such a shock. A lifetime of bullying because of his condition wouldn’t magically disappear from a few heartfelt words. But you wanted this opportunity to prove yourself to him and Stan that you were being true and did genuinely enjoy their company, so you weren’t about to turn away the chance you were offered.
The boys roughhouses a little while longer before they turned on you and tackled you to the ground.
That was when the bedroom door swung open, and Filbrick Pines stared at the three children with absolute stoicism.
Well…you supposed introductions were in order.