Stan takes one look at the other man, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s got the squirming man in a bear hug, lifting him up, pressing him close. “Ford! Oh, Ford, i knew you’d come for me! i always knew you wouldn’t give up on me!” Ford quits his fidgeting, goes oddly still in Stan’s arms (well, arm- singular) and mumbles something. Stan doesn’t know if he was meant to hear it or not, but years of constant danger have made his hearing sharp, so he catches it- “i didn’t”. ((it’s gf!ford))