Stan's fishing around for loose change and crumpled bills when he finds it. He's managed to dig up money from under Ford's mattress before, which he wasn't thrilled about but he'd forgiven Stan quickly when he paid him back, and Stan's had a pretty crappy day and really could use a bag of chips. Carla rejected him when he'd asked her on a date, said she had to study for a test in a class he's pretty sure she's not even in and Stanley fears for the worst. It's over before it even began. She probably hates him and wants him dead or worse and there's nothing like a mouthful of salt and fat to remind you what being alive felt like. Okay, so he's being a little dramatic, but he's had a bad week too. Everything's just been crummy lately and apparently that's just what "being a teenager is" and he's sick of it.
Instead of bills or coins nestled into the wooden frame of Ford's bed, Stan's fingers hit something hard. Huh. He considers respecting his brother's privacy for a moment. Before he can fully consider his options he's already yanking the object out and sighs when he sees it. It's that book with the light blue cover Ford's been writing in lately and it almost definitely has zero cash in it. That's okay, though, finding this is almost as good as a bag of chips. Stan's been curious about this thing for ages now.
Stan's not sure when Ford had started writing in it but what he does know is that Ford started getting protective of his writing whenever it was in this book. This is weird for him, usually Ford doesn't seem to care in the slightest if Stan reads over his shoulder. Well, sometimes he asks for space, but usually it's not a big deal. And it's not that Stanley doesn't have his own secrets, it's just that, y'know, he's curious. Ford's kind of... boring feels like a mean word but, well, is it wrong? He doesn't really get out much, he doesn't have much to hide.
Well, nothing but whatever's in this baby. Ford's said he's gonna be out looking at mushrooms or whatever until around 4PM and 4PM in Ford Time is roughly 8PM give or take. But sometimes the exception proves the rule and he comes in early so he better get cracking on invading his brother's privacy. Stanley looks down at the journal in his hands, anticipation welling to see what his brother had been so secretive about and opens it to the first page—
—wait, this is it? Seriously? Why'd Ford go to such effort to hide it then? No, this doesn't make sense. He'd expected him to be writing about, well... Girls, maybe? Something that justified the hiding spot? Under the mattress is where you put the embarrassing stuff that's also the stuff you need access to. You know, like centerfolds you've cut out of magazines while the workers aren't looking and shoved into your pocket. Not that Stan knows anything about that sort of thing. He flips forward a few pages. The realization dawns on him: this is all it is. A diary. Page after page of topics so long-winded and boring that it's difficult for Stan to keep up.
Well, fuck. Now he feels stupid. What'd Sixer been so cagey about, then? What, that his diary is "girly"? Well, actually, that is kind of funny. He thinks he remembers Ma bringing this book home with the intention of starting her own diary months back, and he definitely remembers seeing it gathering dust on the side-table in the living room for awhile. Ford was just recycling, no shame in that. Cute little hearts on the pages just add character.
He shakes his head and thumbs through it randomly, noticing how many pages had been written in. Guess Sixer's been keeping a journal for awhile... wait. It's late December and there's dozens of pages filled out, how in the hell did he manage to write that much? He knows that his brother is the bookish type but this seems excessive even for him. He peers at a page towards the last half of the book, wondering what in the world he could be writing about for pages on end. Maybe he is writing about girls after all and he's doing that classical troubled artist thing.[edit:add more context, stan thinks of ford as a waifish victorian gentleman, sell it more.] Going on and on about his feelings about her, spilling his guts out, crying 'cause it's not going anywhere. Hell, maybe it did go somewhere and he's writing down all the sordid little details...
If that's the case, he has to take a peek. He's gotta look out for his brother, after all. Make sure he's not getting himself into trouble, that sort of thing. With renewed interest he reads the page—
—Stanley's heart is in his throat. What... what is this? Why is this in Ford's journal? There's no way Ford wrote it, right? It's in his handwriting and everything but why would he write this stuff about him, about... he can't stop himself from reading on, heart hammering in his chest. He's... writing about tying him up and touching him while Stan's drunk. "Touching him" isn't really doing it justice, he goes into detail. Ford's using words for dicks Stanley's never even heard before, he guesses stuff he read in anatomy textbooks which is so him. Out of all people, if he were going to write down stuff like this he'd be the person to use as precise language as possible. He says that a lot, that he values precision.
The nerdy attention to detail is the only thing drawing him away from fear. He laughs quietly to himself, as if to calm his nerves. Right. This is Ford. Even if he's writing all this stuff, it's Ford. He... he doesn't mean it, right? He scans the page again, internally begging for a sign this isn't some sort of plot he's devising and is just... whatever this is. His eyes land on the word "stories" and he thinks. Right, stories. Not "plans". That implies this is just something he's writing down to...
Stanley looks at Ford's bed, where he pulled the journal from. The ideal hiding spot to pluck out silently in the night and hide under the covers with a flashlight. Not that Stan would know anything about that.
Stanley's mouth is dry as he comes to a few conclusions. First is that Ford's a homo or something. Which isn't honestly that surprising. Ford's always been a bit on the girly side but that's fine as far as he's concerned. The thought's crossed his mind before, what if his brother were a queer? And he always replied to himself, "so what if he is? Why do I care what he does with his dick?" In a turn Stan could never have predicted, apparently, Stan's dick is a part of the equation too.
But that's fine too. Maybe. Probably? He's gonna go with a firm "probably". 'Cause this is all stuff Ford wrote down just to... get it out of his system. Yeah, that makes sense. Stanley's had plenty of crazy ideas about girls he's liked and he's sure if he wrote some of them down they'd come off as pretty scary too. 'Course, none of them involved rope, but it's not a terrible idea. He kind of gets the appeal. If Ford were writing about a girl, it'd kinda worry him at first 'til he realized what he's realizing now: he doesn't actually wanna do this stuff. Probably. He keeps reading tentatively, unsure why he's subjecting himself to it despite his mounting shame. 'Course Ford hid this, he's already bullied about seeming like a queer. It turns out the poor guy actually is one. And on top of that, he's got the hots for his brother. If people knew about this stuff, it's social suicide and that's putting it lightly. Ford probably thought that Stanley would react like... well how he reacted at first. Afraid. Disgusted. Ford had done the right thing and hid it from him and he had to go and look, couldn't handle not knowing something about his brother.
And now he knows too much. The irony is not lost on him.
Well, in for a penny in for a pound. "Sorry, Ford," Stan thinks to himself, "it's on me for butting my nose in but I can't know my brother wants to fuck me without having more follow-up questions." Plus, while he's pretty sure Ford wouldn't hurt him he's not certain. It hurts even to admit he thinks that way about Ford, but, well. The guy is kinda bringing it on himself, isn't he? Writing about...
...Stan's heart speeds up for reasons different from fear. Apparently the Ford's writing about starts liking it pretty quickly. That confirms it. See? He doesn't want to hurt him after all. He just wants to tie him up and give him a handy. No big deal. Even if it did happen, which it won't, it's not that upsetting. Stan's spent most of the last 5 years of his life desperate for a girl to put her hands down there and while Ford isn't exactly who he had in mind... it'd be okay, maybe. No, probably. A handjob when he's tipsy won't hurt him. Not that Ford would follow through. This is just a story. Wait. Ford had said "stories", right? Like, plural? Stories... about him? About Stanley? Multiple?
Stan gulps, his blush deepening. Wait, how many of these has he written? And they're so Ford can... Stan gulps again and licks his dry lips. Well, even if he's written more stuff like this, it doesn't mean he'd do it any more than it means Stanley would do anything he thinks about when he's getting to know himself better. It just means Ford wants him enough to keep thinking of him. Enough to keep writing stories about him. Which is...
...it's a lot. It's a lot to take in. Well, Ford wants him in a figurative sense, who knows if he'd actually want to do this sort of thing. Maybe he's trying to get out all his urges so he doesn't do something like that? If he makes enough material to jerk off to, maybe he won't feel like he has to resort to that. Maybe Stanley should be relieved that he's getting all of this out in a little book and not taking it out on him.
Guilt wells in Stan's stomach, adrenaline making him nauseous and heavy. Ford's not like that, though. Stan's just repeating the kinda stuff he's heard about homosexuals before. That they force themselves on guys, that they're sick in the head. But Ford's not like that. Stan knows how freaks are treated anyway and he's had his doubts about how people talk about homosexuals. People hate things they don't understand, make up stories to tell themselves to feel good when they hurt someone doing nothing wrong.
Okay, so maybe his brother's a homo. That's fine. And let's say homosexuals are as bad as the world says they are, so what? That's not Ford. Ford wouldn't hurt him. And even if he would... if it's just this, it'd be... okay. Ford can get his rocks off getting Stan's rocks off. If Ford wants to. Which he doesn't. And Stan definitely doesn't want to but if Ford did, Stan would throw him a bone. Yeah. That's it. It's probably hard to find another homo to fool around with. It's not that Stan wants Ford to jerk him off but if Ford wants to, he'd let Ford have his fun. Well, Stan's getting too ahead of himself. He still doesn't know everything Ford wants, this is just one of those "stories". Maybe it'd be in his best interest to know what he's getting into should Ford fall to his temptations... or should Stan... lay back and let's it happen.
Stan ignores the feeling of discomfort in his lower half as he sits down on his own bed, growing tired from standing place. He flips the pages forward and his stomach flips as he thumbs past page after page peppered with "Stanley". There's... quite a few stories. Some are short and sweet. In the one after the one Stan just read, Ford sucks him off when he's drunk and helps him to bed. It's almost sweet... in a way. The more he reads, the more he notes a sort of... softness about it. Ford's forceful but his words don't match up with his actions. One moment he's talking about shushing Stanley when he tries to push Ford off of him, the next moment he's writing about Stan's eyes. Ford likes his eyes. His arms, chest, stomach too. Legs even. Stan's starting to think Ford likes... just about everything there is to like on a person. The action is perverted but the words are romantic, like Ford's in love with him or something.
His last thought clings in Stan's brain, like sand to wet skin. Stan thinks he 'ought to be disgusted but instead he just feels... sad. Sad he can't give Ford what he wants. Sad that Ford knows it. Sad that Ford's written pages and pages and pages of this stuff knowing Stan would never want him the way Ford wants him. Ford wants him so bad but, even when he's playing pretend, he can't imagine Stan wanting him back. It makes Stan feel empty, somehow. He wouldn't say he pities Ford, it's not that. It's that it feels so lonely. Stan is slowly coming to realize that while he might be okay with some of this stuff... he can't get Ford's hopes up like that. Stan can't break his heart anymore than Ford's already broken it himself...
...that's what his heart is saying, anyway. His heart is saying, "don't you dare hurt him." His brain is saying, "hurt him? I should be worried about me in this situation, not him." His dick is saying, "screw those guys. Your brother wants you so bad it's driving him insane and you've never been harder in your life."
Yeah, it's funny how that's a constant with him, that the most honest thing about Stanley is usually his dick. It's getting harder to ignore and he's beginning to have crazy thoughts. Crazier than maybe being okay with Ford forcing himself on him. Like maybe... ...maybe he... wants him to? In a way? Just to know what it's like to make someone's dreams come true. Not the stories—just in general. Stan can't promise that he'll want him back, but he's never felt so wanted before. If Ford were anyone else he'd think he were just an idiot to write stuff like this and leave it laying around. There's a reason why Stanley doesn't have anything like to hide: he isn't dumb enough to let any his dirty thoughts out of his head. That stuff is locked up in his brain where it belongs. But Ford's got the biggest brain out of everyone, probably out of everyone in New Jersey at least, and if he's resorting to writing this stuff out where Stanley could find it—Stanley must be driving him insane. Hell, Ford almost says just that a few times, talking about how "alluring" he is after a shower, or on a hot day when he's all sweaty. How he looks at the way Stan's sweat "accentuates" his muscles. How he's all jealous when Stan's talking about girls, how Ford'd make him feel just as good if not better.
Yeah... Ford's... sort of insane about him, he thinks. Not in a scary way, probably. But it's strangely addicting to pick up on these things as he reads. It's flattering in a way, he's never felt so attractive before in his life. A part of him wonders if anyone will ever want him as much as Ford wants him. And right now, that part of him is making good friends with his dick right now and they're ganging up on him, egging him on.
Stan skips ahead and finds blank pages. For a moment he was thinking the whole journal would be filled. But then he guesses he would've found a second one. He flips back, finding writing and goes back to what seems to be the beginning of this story.
Okay, so... this one starts with Stan having passed out drunk. Man, he really can't let a guy live that down, huh... He doesn't take it personally though, it's an easy set-up. It probably gets tiring figuring out ways to get him vulnerable. Stan could easily overpower him in reality. He probably could even if Ford tied him up. Which he does in this one. There isn't always rope but Ford seems to be a fan. It let's him do his thing. Fair enough. This time, his hands and legs are tied to the bed posts of his own bed. It takes place in their bedroom. Most of these stories seem to. Somehow, Ford's tied him up while Stan's asleep.
Stan isn't about to start critiquing the writing here but that's a pretty big loophole. Stan's a heavy sleeper but no one could sleep through that. Especially 'cause with the way their bedroom is set up, Ford would need to crawl over him to tie up his right side. Unless Stan's pretending to be asleep of course, but it's pretty clear that the Stan in the story wasn't pretending by how he's talking. He's all, "Sixer, what are you doing?" and "wait, no, don't" and "I'm not a faggot." Huh, that last one hits different than the rest, though. Stan knows how much that word's been used to hurt him, he wouldn't turn it around on him like that. Does... Ford see him that way? Sometimes he described Stanley as "disgusted" too. And yeah, he probably would be disgusted in this scenario but it feels like it's not just this story, like that's how Stan would think of him if he knew... ...like he thinks that Stan would hate him if he knew.
A wave of guilt washes over him again. Stan wants to tell him he's not afraid, that he doesn't hate him. But it's not like Ford can ever know that. Stan can't tell him he doesn't. 'Cause then he'd have to admit he read all this and Ford would probably... ...maybe Ford would be the one who ends up hating him. Stan's seen enough nasty breakups to know that strong feelings can get really ugly really fast. And besides, that's just gloating his face about something he can't have, right? What's the point of him knowing Stan doesn't hate him for wanting him? He'd probably be mortified Stan knows at all. The fact Stan can't give Ford what he wants would just rub dirt in the wound.
Stan shakes his head. There's no point on dwelling on that, he knows he can't say nothing to him about this. But it's not hurting him to keep reading. Except maybe Stan's hurting himself in a way. It sort of feels like Stan's doing the same thing in reverse, dangling something in front of his nose he can't have. It's not that he wants it, it's the fact he can't have it that's driving him nuts. So what if he did? Is it so wrong?
Maybe the Stanley in the story's got the right idea. Maybe he's pretending. He's not, Stan knows he's not cause Ford can tell he thinks he'd hate it at first, it comes up too often. But he rereads the first part imagining it anyway. The Stan in the story's just playing along with what Ford wants. Ford wants the struggle. Ford wants it to be complicated. Ford wants Stan to want him in the way that Stan wants women. Ford wants him and, most importantly, he wants to make Stan want him. That word comes up a lot. Make. Force.
Stan's not willing to even attempt to give himself an explanation for why he's unzipping his jeans at this thought. He doesn't have it in him to come up with a good excuse, he just needs to do something to relieve the way his cock is aching. Stan sighs quietly, wary of someone walking in, and shoves his hand in his pants. It's a little difficult to turn the pages with one hand but Ford seems to manage just fine. Not that he writes it while jerking off... but he might, he supposes. The thought twists in his gut, digs in deep. He imagines Ford sitting at his desk, crouched over as he writes, fisting his dick. No, there's no way. The handwriting is too even, too perfect. Even Ford couldn't manage to write in his annoyingly perfect handwriting while getting off... he might take breaks, though.
Stan's having some feelings about that thought but that's not what's important right now. Right now, he wants to see what Ford woke him up to do to him. This one's a bit more in-depth. Skip the intro and get straight to the fun part, eh? He can respect that. Ford starts with crawling on top of him and holding his hair and forcing Stan's head to the side so Ford can kiss his neck. Okay. Cool. He's mumbling against his neck about how long he's wanted him, how Stanley must be torturing him on purpose by walking around in shorts commando at night, how the outline of his dick drives him crazy. How he wonders what it tastes like... ...probably salty, Stan guesses. Probably nothing special. But Ford seems to think otherwise. Stan swipes his pointer along the head of his dick and cautiously tastes his precum. Yeah.
Sixer's gonna be disappointed. Speaking of six, those six fingers are wrapped around fake Stanley's dick and Stan's still fighting back even though he's hard. Why's he gotta make it so hard for him? The fake Stan's pulling at his restraints and trying to buck Ford off of him. Can't he see how much Ford wants this? Stan would, he wouldn't... Stanley shakes his head. If Ford wanted him to, he'd struggle. Not as much, though. He wouldn't have it in him, not really. Hell, he can't even get through reading about it without being desperate for his dick to be touched. Ford way overestimates how steadfast Stan's straightness is.
And that thought ends up frightening him as much as it excites him. It's frightening because he doesn't know what that means, what this means. Does he like guys too? Or is it only Sixer? Does he only want Ford because he knows Ford wants him? Well... that wouldn't be too weird considering he knows for sure Ford feels some kind of way about him. If Stan can come around on the whole concept, it's basically guaranteed sex.
Stan's had sex before. One time. It was great. Amazing even. But that was a while ago, at a party he'd somehow scored an invite to. An older girl he'd never spoken to invited him to her car. Said his muscles were sexy. He's not sure if he did a good job, honestly. She seemed happy enough but girls seem to find a way to hide when they're unhappy until it can't be bottled up anymore and it all explodes on you. Not that it mattered that much, he never saw her again after that and that's fine. He can't say he didn't hope for a round two but he knew she was looking for fun more than anything when she got out a condom. It was fun even though he did most of the work. She told him what to do, but he eagerly followed through. Not that that was a problem. Stan likes being told what to do sometimes.
But Ford keeps making it seem like it'd be easy for him. Like he wouldn't have to lift a finger to get off. Fuck, that's getting to him. Yeah, maybe if it gets Ford licking his dick like he is in this story he'd play pretend too. Maybe fake Stanley knows exactly what he's doing, knows exactly what buttons to push to make Ford make him get off. Stan bites back a groan, eyes skipping over words he doesn't know. He doesn't need to know what specific part of his dick Ford's tongue is playing with, he knows his tongue's on his dick and it's all he needs. Fake Stanley needs more, he's so greedy, making Ford work like this for nothing. In the other ones, Ford didn't even get off. The story ends shortly after Stanley cums, Ford never mentions Stan helping him out. He's tied up for him, he could do all sorts of things, he could make Stan the one sucking on a dick, but he doesn't.
Ford just wants to make Stan feel good and fuck he wants to let him. Fake Ford's doing something different this time though, he's crawling on top of him to kiss him again. Oh, okay, he's jacking both of them off at the same time. That's it, Ford can feel good too. He can take what he want. Ford's doing something different now, describing something about having "prepared" before he'd tied him down. He's angling his dick and... you can put your dick there? Huh. Stan's heard of anal before but he'd honestly thought it was sort of a raunchy joke no one would actually do. The sort of thing that if you asked a girl she'd slap you and guys weren't on the menu until thirty minutes ago.
Ford's writing about how he'd shoved his fingers in there earlier so he'd be ready to take Stan's cock, how he'd practiced before. Stan gulps. How much of that last part is just a story and how much is brutal honesty between him and his journal? Fuck, Stanley's a terrible brother. Terrible for peeking, terrible for judging him when Stan isn't that different from him, terrible for wanting Ford for easy sex. He shouldn't be seeing this, he shouldn't know this. Stanley's feeling bad again, both for the fact he's reading this at all but also for the fake Ford who wants him so badly he's willing to do this. It must hurt with the way Ford describes the noises he's making.
...actually, maybe not. Unless fake Ford's lying about how Stan's dick feels good inside of him. Would that... actually feel good? Fake Ford mentions doing "research" on this—how the hell did he do that? What kind of textbooks is he reading? Doesn't matter. Stan doubts he'd understand them, Stan learns better with hands-on experience, and Ford's always been good at breaking things down in a way he understands.
Fake Ford's enjoying himself and a part of Stanley is yelling, "finally!" and it's as if he's felt too guilty to get off before this because he's suddenly way too close. He's crossed between wanting to pause to turn the page and just rutting into his hand needily, imagining how good Ford's hand would feel instead. Stan makes a decision and relents. He's made it this far, he's going to try and stick through 'til the end of the story. At least until fake Stan starts liking it. Right now, fake Stan's looking up at Ford while he's riding his dick and he's not even being appreciative. He's ungrateful, if you ask him. Careful not to dirty the pages, he turns the page and reads with rapt attention—
Holy fuck. Finally is right, fucking finally. Stan's not sure if Ford would actually be better but he'd love to let him give it an honest go. Stan's rubbing his dick furiously, reading and rereading lines in his brother's handwriting, and he gets stuck on a sentence. But it's not 'cause he didn't understand it the first time, it's because it's doing him in.
"he loves it, he loves me the way I love him."
[edit: don't like it! fix it! rephrase it! feels weird!] Stan angles the book away when he realizes he can't stop what's started, that he's going to cum now. He started with his hand shoved in his underwear but at some point, he pushed them down so he had better access and he's not sure when. He cums so hard he's prideful in how little noise he makes as he strokes himself through it, rocking his hips, imagining his hand is Ford's ass and what Ford's hard dick would look like when he rides him, so, so relieved that Ford feels good too. "Fuck," Stan whispers to himself, the sound cracking in the back of his throat, growling from the exertion. Ford wrote Stan's orgasms as just one burst of seed but it's usually spread out a bit like it is now, his dick throbbing and stomach muscles fluttering as he milks it out in two spurts... no, three this time...
Stan growls some more, the pleasure bordering on painful. Finally, relief settles in as another tiny groan falls from his mouth. He catches his breath. Not sure what else to do just yet, he turns his attention back to the journal and smiles as Ford describes his dick leaking precum as he rides him. It suggests some familiarity on how Ford's body responds to being fucked. It's a nice image. Ever the giver, Ford finally cums by jerking himself off while riding his dick at the same time fake Stanley does. It's sort of romantic in a way. That's where it ends. There's usually a few sentences serving as an ending but this one just ends here. Stanley turns the page. Oh. The next one's blank. Maybe Ford's planning on finishing it later?
Stanley briefly feels disappointed he can't read the ending. "Yeah, well, you shouldn't have read any of it to begin with, it serves you right," he chides himself. There's that guilt again, welling up without anything to hold it back now that Stanley's dick is out of the equation. Fuck. This shouldn't have happened. It really, really shouldn't have happened. He needs to clean up. First order of action is to shove the book back the way he found it. If Ford walks in while he's cleaning up, it wouldn't be the first time he's caught him jerking off. Though, this would be the first time where Stanley knows it'd haunt Ford and at this moment in time he's worried that thought alone will make him hard again and then where will they be? Hey bro, sorry, gonna need another ten minutes, you know me, I'm insatiable. And then after that Stanley would think about how Ford wants him again and he'd get hard again and they'd get trapped into a loop possibly forever. Or at least until Stan runs out of cum and despite his best efforts he has yet to manage such a feat.
No, no. He has to stop thinking about this. He wipes himself clean on his sheets and tries to look presentable. Okay. He's normal again. Now, he's back to normal. This was just a fluke. In a few days, this will all seem very silly. Or better yet, he'll wake up any minute now and realize this is a very elaborate dream. Yup. No problems here. He checks the nearest clock—fuck. Ford should've been home twenty minutes ago. In Ford Time, he still has another few hours but given how unpredictable Ford is... ...what if he had walked in on...
Stanley can't be here when Ford gets home. Ford would know something is up right away. He doesn't know where he's going to or for what purpose but he needs to get out of the house before he comes in and keep himself busy until it's late enough for Ma to get upset at him. He doesn't want to worry her, but it has to happen, at least for tonight. Then he'll be able to forget all about this. Everything will go back to normal.
Right? Right.