Untold Stories

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It started with a crash.

It started with a fist connecting with the image he saw before him.

Stan had found himself in front of the mirror once again, hours after he had argued with his brother. Another meeting, another argument. That’s all they ever seemed to do. He found himself staring at the face, unable to really look away, so like his twin but so different, more so now after thirty years apart.

Oh so different now from his twin.

It was all wrong. None of this should have happened.

His brother should be happy to be home!

He should be grateful!

Stan bit his lip, shaking his head at the thoughts. That wasn’t right, he knew that. He didn’t want his brother to be grateful. He just wanted him back.

That had been the whole point.

But even with him back physically, he’d still lost him.

He’d lost him a long time ago.

How could he have ever have expected to do something right for once?

He should have never fallen through the portal in the first place.

Stan nodded with the thought, shoulders slumping as he stared at himself. They should never have argued, Ford should never have fallen through, they shouldn’t have spent thirty years apart all because he couldn’t just listen for once in his life and do as he was told!

Fire burned behind his eyes, vicious and hot and full of self-loathing as he glared at himself, disgusted by what he saw before him.

All your fault.

Everything was, it always had been. A chain of events that he always sparked, dominoes he couldn’t help but kick over and then stand back and watch the fallout, never able to do anything to halt the motions. One mistake after another, constant and painful.

You ruined your own life!

He’d started everything by breaking that science project. It all boiled down to that, didn’t it? That’s how Ford saw it anyway.

So he guessed it must be true. If the genius could connect the dots to all the way back then, then it must be true.

Your fault! Your fault! Always. Always, your fault!

The image before him shattered before he even realised he’d put his fist through it.

He blinked at the damage he had caused, the shocked pale face staring back at him, split in two and fragmenting as he watched.

Splitting at the seams.

He’d built so many lies around him, a wall building higher and higher to protect him from the world. Layer upon layer, brick upon brick.

But there was nothing to protect him from Ford.

Nothing to protect him from the truth of it all.

The mask was breaking, falling away piece by piece as the mirror broke.

Who was he? Under it all?

Was there much of Stanley Pines left?

Once the summer is over I want my name back, I want my house back and this mystery shack stuff is over for good.

Stan stared at what was left of him in the mirror, hand up by his chest as he rubbed at his stinging knuckles and made a decision.

What’s the point of waiting until the end of summer?

I’ll just ruin something else if I stay.

“Ok, Stan, you can do this. It’s better this way. Just get out of their hair. They don’t need you. Sure, the kids might get upset but they’ll get over it.” Stan took a deep breath, staring at the shack through the car window. He’d packed what he’d needed, travelling light. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, just that he needed to go. But something was stopping him, something was keeping him there.

Coward. Say goodbye to them. They deserve that much from you.

He shook his head. That would put Ford in a difficult situation. He knew Mabel at least would fight his corner and he was sure Dipper would too, even if he’d been mistrusting of him just before Ford came through the portal. He didn’t want Ford to be obliged to let him stay, the kids’ ire was a force to be reckoned with, he’d learnt that the hard way. Or there was the other possibility- that Ford would go through with his plan, let him leave and not try to stop him. Which would just make the kids hate him – would it? – before even they got a chance to know him.

Ford didn’t deserve his family hating him when he’d only just made it home.

Ford was angry, he understood that.

He’d lost him years ago, it just hadn’t sunk in until Stan had seen him again.

Hope was a monster of a thing to hold on to.

Stan took another deep shuddering breath, eyes going hard as he finally started the engine.

He wouldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted.

Though he didn’t know where that meant he could go.

All your fault, why would he want you hanging around?

Stan bit his lip as he reversed the car in stuttering jerky motions. He cursed at the loudness of it all, the splutter and clatter of the machinery, the rumbling choke of the engine. The clunky old thing couldn’t just be quiet for once in its long life-

Heh, Stan smiled thinly. Guess we’re perfect for one another then.

A light flickered on above him, a silhouette that he hadn’t expected, tall and imposing in the harsh window frame around it. He shuddered at the sight, a spark of recognition and fear thrumming through him.

A similar night.

An imposing figure.

Left in the dark with just his car and a duffle bag.

No one to help him…no one who cared…

Stan’s hands shook as he quickly pulled away, eyes firmly locked away from the shack as his stomach tied itself in knots, not knowing whether the curtains opened and Ford actually looked out at him or not. Whether he had just turned away like he had once before.

He’d wanted to make a quick getaway.

Quick and quiet and easy, no messy goodbyes, no more arguments.

No more messing things up for everyone.

You can’t even do that right!

He couldn’t seem to get his hands to stop shaking.

It was like the world was punishing him for everything he did.

Now his last memory of the house he had lived in for thirty years-

Overlapped with the memory of a childhood torn away from him.

Why couldn’t he had just one memory, just one peaceful moment to comfort him?

Why did everything have to be spoiled?

You had the twins.

The world seemed less grey in that moment, his mind giving him a reprieve from the onslaught of viciousness, a soft warmth filling him up from the inside.

The kids…this summer had been better than forty years combined.

And he did have more than a handful of good memories of the kids to keep him going now.

He even had that very morning before the portal was restarted and things fell to pieces again.

Fireworks and water fights. A relaxing lazy morning before everything went to hell.

Stan smiled, falling into the happier thoughts.

The kids laughing, the kids smiling at him.

Growing to love them.

Fishing trips and zombies. Dinosaurs and Summerween.

Silly little moments, sat in front of the TV watching movies.

Big old moments, protecting the shack from someone who tried to take it from them.

Stan huffed out a laugh, a dark sad sound that rang hollow and empty through the car.

He’d beaten one person to keep the shack safe, only to have someone else take it away from him.

The laughter died on his lips, Ford’s glare showing through his mind’s eye again. He could hear him now.

I haven’t taken anything from you! This was always my home.

He was right as usual.

Stan hated how right he was about everything all the time.

Hated how different they were.

Polar opposites.

If Ford was always right, then he could only ever be wrong.

It’s always been that way.

With his mind too entrenched in his spiralling thoughts, he never saw the car that ran the red light.

He heard the car horns far too late, dragging his eyes off to the side to see it hurtling towards him, unable to stop, his own pale and indifferent expression superimposed onto the glass pane.

Man, I really should have said something to the kids.

There was a crunch of metal, the tinkling clatter of glass hitting tarmac and the echoing screech of tyres.

And then a slow descent into a cloying cold silence.

.

It all happened so fast.

One second he’d been running, heart pounding in his chest and his breaths growing shallower and shallower with every intake. He could feel the blood thudding through his skull, a thick steady beat that was starting to make his head hurt.

It was getting harder to breathe at all. His legs were giving under him, the burst of adrenaline was slowly leaving his bloodstream and the creature was catching up.

The next second something swiped at him, there was a small sharp pain as whatever it was clipped him. He hadn’t even been ready for it, his vision tunnelling and the world narrowing to a pinpoint. He cursed himself for not staying alert.

He could see the shack in the distance, his eyes had locked on to it.

So close…

He was so close to the edge of the forest. So close to freedom he could taste it.

And then suddenly he was tumbling, the world flying upside down. A knock to the back of the head left him spinning head over heels and falling down a small incline to rest at the bottom in a complete daze.

The wind was knocked out of him, he couldn’t seem to get himself up and moving.

The creature towered above him, sharp teeth snarling and claws outstretched, ready to bite and tear into his flesh.

Everything seemed to come to a standstill, even when he knew in a blink of an eye this could very well be his undoing.

He hadn’t meant to go out looking for trouble when he’d left the shack that morning but the last thought going through his head as he closed his eyes and waited for impact was that he really shouldn’t have gone out alone. He really shouldn’t have gone for a wander and not taken the time to check the signs around him that he was entering a predator’s domain.

What had happened to all that careful planning? What had happened to all the vigilance and control with which he had travelled through the multiverse?

Just because he was home didn’t mean this place was safe. It had never been safe.

After all, he had met Bill here.

All these thoughts spun through him in the space of time it took to take a deep breathe in, in the time it took for the animal to rear back and lunge at him.

He awaited the snap of teeth, sure that after all that, after everything he had managed to live through, this was going to be the end of him.

And yet…the impact never came.

No abrupt sharp pinpoints of pain as teeth punctured the skin. No burning heat as claws dug into him, grazing, grating and leaving him even more immobile than he already was.

No…anything.

Ford opened one eye cautiously. He didn’t know what was going on. Didn’t know whether the creature liked to toy with its meals but he made sure to prepare himself, to be ready to scamper away if the creature was suddenly distracted or bored of him.

His blood ran cold, ice trickling through his system and down his spine. His heart skipped a painful beat, breath hitching in a way it really shouldn’t when he was already so out of breath.

One second he’d been running for his life.

The next he’d fallen.

And the one after that the creature’s teeth were piercing his brother’s shoulder, it’s claws digging into his arm tearing thick long lines in his suit sleeves. He could see the blood flowing through the torn fabric, lines of red bubbling up thick and fast before the claws repeated the motion, scrabbling for purchase.

Stan roared, loud and low, an echoing thunder that seemed to travel for miles through the trees. Ford wasn’t entirely sure if the yell was due to pain or rage but his fists flew with it regardless. It was like the rumble leaving him, every ounce of energy going with it, gave him the added drive to tear away from the creature, to give it a punch to the face, a jab to the eye.

The creature tried to sink its teeth in further to stop his painful assault, a growl vibrating that no doubt added to the excruciating pain he was sure his brother must be fighting through.

However, it only seemed to add to the flames, Stan’s hands pummelling into the creature all the harder. Ford was sure he heard something snap as a fist connected with the creature’s arm and suddenly the jaw unlocked, a spray of red coming away with it as a howl escaped the creature. It turned and fled back into the forest from whence it came, whining all the while, its arm dangling limply by its side.

Stan panted heavily, a thick silence thrumming above them as Ford stared in shocked awe at the man stood tall before him. He still couldn’t even move, stuck in the moment as one hand held him propped up, his brother’s back the only thing he could focus on as the silence stretched on and on.

The atmosphere grew and grew, a brewing storm waiting to happen as the air got thicker and darker around them.

And then it suddenly broke.

“You alright there, Poindexter?”

Stan spoke, popping the bubble around them. Ford felt the air leave him in a gush, not even knowing he’d been holding it in.

And the words were so ridiculous it took a second for them to sink in through Ford’s skull.

“Am I alright?!” The ice released Ford from its hold, his body melting and though jittery and wobbly, he could finally move. He stumbled to his feet, arms waving awkwardly as Stan stayed looking into the forest, still waiting, vigilant for the creature to come back. “Am I alright?”

“That’s what I asked you.”

“That’s- I’m fine. Of course I’m fine, I mean- you- Stan I should be asking you that question.”

“Yeah, well I asked first.”

Ford sighed, irritation bubbling up, warm and thick to melt what remained of the ice. It wasn’t completely successful however, the horrible lurching image of his brother being torn into, that yell that still thundered around his skull adding a cold glaze to his thawing mind again.

Whatever con Stan was trying to pull, he wasn’t buying it.

“I’m fine, Stan. You made sure of that. Now for the love of- just- Stan, are you OK?” Ford’s hands outstretched, taking a step closer to his brother to try and assess the damage better.

Only Stan heard the movement.

And took a step forward as well.

“Never-” A grunt of pain took over his words as he tried to roll his shoulders nonchalantly with little success. “Never better.”

“Stan, will you just let me take a look?”

“Nah, why would you wanna do that? It’ll be fine, just need a rest is all.”

Ford’s frown deepened as Stan refused to look at him. He was growing paler by the second. Why was he being stubborn? Why did it seem like he was trying to annoy him? To get him to storm off and leave him here in the woods, bleeding everywhere? What would that achieve? How would this benefit him? “What do you mean why? I caused this, of course I want to help!”

“Would you want to help if you hadn’t caused it?”

The words came out in a whisper, as if Stan hadn’t actually wanted him to hear them, his thoughts slipping out passed his lips in grim rebellion.

But he had heard them, the wind carrying the words to hiss insidiously into his ears and let him hear what was behind the bitter defeated warble.

If I had gotten myself hurt would you even care? It’s just a sense of duty that’s all. You don’t actually want to help me.

“Stan…”

“In fact, the whole reason you’re angry with me still is because of something you started, not me.” Stan spun to him, eyes misty and mouth trembling and Ford could tell now, could see that Stan just wanted him to leave him to his misery, wanted him to turn his back on him and give up on him.

Just like he’d done before.

Just like he expected him to do again and again.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up that Ford actually cared.

But the charade was failing, the mask breaking and leaving the vulnerable man beneath it that for some reason Ford hadn’t seen until this point.

The broken young man who had been heartbroken to be called and told to leave again.

The old man that had wasted 30 years trying to rectify a mistake that had blown up in his face.

The man standing before him, hand slowly staining red as he put pressure on the wound to his shoulder and swayed on his feet, too stubborn to let him help and too worried he’d done something wrong again. Helped when he should have let it be. Stood back when he should have helped.

Never in the right place at the right time.

Mistake after mistake.

Why would you care?

“Let’s…let’s not get into that now.” Ford gulped, quelling the rising tide of anger that tried to bubble out of his mouth in response. He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t rise to the bait, he wouldn’t do as Stan wanted and just leave him here.

He did care.

Just because he was angry at him didn’t mean he didn’t care.

“That’s not the point right now. You are hurt, Stan. Let me help.” Ford took another step towards him. Stan tried to take another back, eyes defiant. But his legs were shaking too much as he did so and made him stumble back further, hitting a tree with a clatter and a soft whimper. Ford froze, hands up in front of him and face distraught as his brother looked at him with such a confused and lost gaze.

“Why? Why won’t you just go back to the kids? I can look after myself.”

“Oh yeah, that’s very obvious right now.” Ford’s voice dripped with venomously sarcasm as he crouched down to look Stan in the eye. “So very obvious you can look after yourself.”

“H-Hey. Who was the one about to get mauled to death by whatever that thing was before I came to the rescue?” Stan panted, gritting his teeth at the pain as he tried to shuffle his suit coat off. With shaking hands he scrunched it into a ball, pressing it into his shoulder with a hiss as he sat himself down at the base of the tree he’d found himself leaning against.

“True. That would be me. And-” The words caught in his throat as he shook his head, the smell of blood prevailing and the ever increasing itch to help fizzling through him, his hands still twitching in front of him. “Thank you Stan, I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. But please, please let me do the same and help you now.” Stan continued to stare at him so he took a slow step forward. Relief pulsed thick and warm through him when Stan made no move in retaliation, just gave in a bit and let him at least get closer. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt just because of me. What were you thinking?”

“Ehh, better me than you. You matter a lot mor-”

“Stanley!” Ford snapped, fists clenching when Stan winced at his shout. “I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want you getting hurt just because of- you’re my brother, Stan! Of course I don’t want you getting hurt! I don’t matter more than you!” Ford growled when Stan shrugged at him, cringing at the obvious discomfort the movement caused but not regretting the sentiment. “Oh for crying out loud! Give me that.” He pushed Stan’s hands out of the way, putting far more pressure on the wound even though Stan cried out at the sudden manhandling. “Sorry, sorry! But why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you accept anything I say?”

“Never- never was any good at listening.”

Ford stared at him, wondering if his pure concern and worry showed on his face. He assumed it did when Stan grimaced and looked away from him, eyes unable to meet his.

“Just didn’t think you did anymore. Care what happened to me, that is.”

Ford huffed out an ironic laugh. “If I recall correctly, it was you who said we weren’t family anymore.”

“Only in response to you telling me you wanted me out of your life.”

“I never-”

“Not in so many words, no. But you didn’t have to.”

Ford’s mouth slammed shut. He was fully aware of what he had said and how it might be misconstrued, but he still held to them. He wanted his name back, and his life.

That wasn’t that much to ask was it?

He guessed, though the things were all reasonable, he hadn’t actually checked what Stan would do without all those things.

He had after all, faked his own death, so his name was out of action.

…and he probably didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Ford sighed. Now was not the time to think of those things. “Stan. I’m not going to lie. I’m still angry.” Stan locked up beneath him, face warring between defeat and pain as he went to push Ford away. Ford batted the feeble attempts easily, pushing his hands back down with one as the other kept up the steady pressure. “But again, that doesn’t mean I want to keep fighting with you especially when you’re hurt. I’m not going to kick you while you’re down. You just saved my life, I’d be a poor excuse for a brother- no a person, if I still carried on arguing with you.” Stan went to open his mouth, a snarl of an answer ready and raring to go, but he beat him to it, watching Stan close his again with an audible snap. “And even if you had gotten hurt out here without me. If it was just you being a knucklehead that got himself into something he couldn’t get out of. I’d still want to help you, help you get out of the mess. I’d scold you and tell you off, yes- because I care, that’s why I get angry.”

“Alright.”

“And another thing- wait, what?”

“I said alright, Sixer, I’m listening. I get it.” Stan smiled shakily back at him, hands flopping to his sides as he rested his head back. “Can we just, stop with the sappy stuff and get home now? I still won that fight, you know! I need to go tell the kids how brave I was!”

Ford snorted, a hysterical bubble of energy that escaped him at Stan’s thought patterns and how quickly they changed. “We’ll have to get you patched up before you regale them with the tale. You’d give them a fright turning up like this.”

“Pssh, this? This is nothing. You should see the other guy- oh wait you did, running away from me with its tail between its legs. Just…stick a Band-Aid on it or something. S’not like I need a doctor or anything.”

“…Stan, are you even seeing how much blood you have lost? Let me tell you now, I don’t think a Band-Aid will suffice.”

“Ah. Oh…well…whatever. Fair comment I’m sure. Let’s just get home and deal with it, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Ford slipped a hand under Stan’s arms, hissing apologies all the while at the carefully gritted teeth and whistling breaths as he helped him shakily to his feet and took most of his weight.

He kept the chatter up, whispered encouragements and half heard apologies as Stan whimpered beside him.

It took him far too long to realise it wasn’t whimpering as they slowly walked back towards the shack.

“Stan…are you laughing?” Ford couldn’t help the appalled note to his voice. After all that, Stan was laughing. A flush of fear made him wonder if shock was setting it, whether they needed to hurry up.

“You said thank you.”

Ford blinked, staring down at his brother’s grinning face. He knew that he had pressing matters. Knew that the dazed expression and slightly slurred voice were warning signs that he needed to heed.

But he also knew that panicking Stan in this situation would be just as detrimental.

He shook his head at his brother’s words, not able to stop the corresponding chuckle that left him in response to Stan’s bright cheeky grin, even as he sped up steadily so that Stan didn’t notice. Smiling down at him reassuringly all the while.

.

“Again, again!”

Ford blinked as he heard happy shouting from the living room, loud cheering and echoing applause as he wandered down the stairs. It felt like an age since he’d heard that much glee in Mabel’s voice, and so much wonder in Dipper’s.

“How are you doing that?”

“I told you! I’m magic! Did you never realise that?”

“You’re not magic, Grunkle Stan. We’ve both seen real magic.”

“Oh yeah? You mean Ford’s book of supernatural creatures? That’s not the only magic, you know. There’s also magic that can be… taught!”

“Where did you pull that from? You’re not even wearing sleeves today! Where could you be hiding these things?!” Dipper’s voice hit a pitch Ford hadn’t even been aware it could hit.

“Misdirection and sleight of hand, kid, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t spoil it, keep going. What other tricks do you have?”

Ford shook his head, curiosity getting the better of him as he wandered into the room and leant against the doorway.

“Oh ho ho, looks like my audience has grown! What’s this, another person coming to watch the show?”

Ford grinned. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Stan beamed, sitting up straighter, pushing the two kids who were clambering on and around him to one side. “Well it looks like we have a new participant, doesn’t it ladies and gentlemen? Come on, volunteer, let’s see if you can figure it out then.”

“Oh, I don’t want to spoil it for the kids.”

Stan raised an eyebrow to him, flourishing the set of cards at him and then towards the seat across from where he himself was sat. “As if you’ll figure it out, Sixer. You may be smart, but that doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“I never said I did.” Ford’s grin grew wider as Stan huffed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t see through you easily.”

“Hmm? You telling me my lies aren’t good enough for ya?”

“You’re my twin.” Ford rolled his eyes. “Of course I know when you’re lying.”

“Well it’s going to be fun proving you wrong!” Stan prodded him in the chest, eyes sparkling. “So? Are you going to pick a card or what?”

Ford hummed, taking the one from the bottom instead of the top, trying to be extra difficult for his brother if that’s how he wanted to play it. Stan huffed at him for his antics, so he gave him a victorious open mouthed smile, baring his teeth slightly, sure he had changed up the rules to his trick.

A small twitch went through him at the realisation as Stan got the rest of the cards ready.

Why couldn’t he have just played along properly?

Surely he could have just the once, to keep the little game alive, just for Stan.

No turning back now though.

Stan gave a nod towards him, tsk’ing at his attempts before shaking his head. “Me thinks the man is trying to be difficult, what do you two think?” He turned to their audience who exchanged glances before nodding solemnly.

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford. You’re meant to do a more difficult round later and just see what happens the first time. I thought you knew magic?”

“Actual magic! Not parlour-” Ford coughed, eyes finding Stan’s raised eyebrows, almost like he daring him to continue that sentence. “I mean, not card magic. I was never good at cards.”

“Nah, dungeons and whatever was more your cup of tea.”

Ford sat up straighter as Stan spoke, shuddering at the thought of the game Ford had once tried to make him play with him.

They hadn’t spoken about that game since before Weirdmaggedon.

Perhaps it was childish of him, but the happiness that blossomed at Stan remembering his childhood game was almost tangible, even if the name escaped him or he couldn’t be bothered to complete it.

“Anyway, just because you don’t believe in me, doesn’t mean this trick still won’t work!”

The happy bubble popped, his smile dropping with it.

For some reason that sentence sounded like something Stan would have said before Weirdmaggedon to him with a lot more ire and indignation.

You don’t believe in me.

Let me do this.

Just trust me this once.

“You even listening?”

There was another prod to Ford’s shoulder, snapping him out of the thoughts. “Yes! Sorry, please continue.”

Stan rolled his eyes, throwing his arm out to the side. “Well then, show them your card so they know you’re being truthful when we see it later on.”

Ford proceeded to show the kids before slipping it back in the deck when Stan let him. Stan made a show of shuffling them, mixing them up over and over again before asking Dipper to blow on the cards for him.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it’s all part of it. Dipper’s got the magic too.”

“And me!”

“And Mabel.”

Stan put the cards down on the table between them, closing his eyes and raising his hand above the set. He frowned once, muttering something under his breath before snapping his fingers and opening his eyes. He slipped the top card off the deck, face up for them to see.

They could all see it wasn’t the right card.

Ford wasn’t sure whether he should say anything.

“No…that’s not it.” Stan sighed, shaking his head. He snapped his fingers again above the card.

Ford blinked, mouth opening in shock as the card in Stan’s hand changed to another.

“No, that’s not the right card either.”

Ford froze, heart dropping to his stomach as eyes were suddenly scrutinising him, narrowed and annoyed.

“You cheated.”

“Wait, what? No I haven’t!”

“You have! You didn’t put the card in the deck!”

Ford frowned, arms raising placatingly. “Now Stan-” He bit his lip. How did he go about this gently? Obviously Stan didn’t remember the tricks as well as he thought he did. He decided the best approach was to go about this logically. “I promise Stan, I’ve done nothing of the sort. Why don’t we look through the deck-”

“Why don’t you look in your pocket first?”

Ford’s mouth shut at Stan’s words. There was a hint of victory to them that suddenly threw him for a loop. He tilted his head, realising the anger had all been part of the act and that he really hadn’t been able to detect the lie in Stan’s voice.

Maybe he couldn’t read Stan as well as he thought after all.

“In my…pocket?”

“Yeah. In your pocket, where you hid it.”

“I didn’t-” Ford glared, slipping his hand into his pocket and pausing at the solid card he found inside. He pulled it out, eyes wide at the card he had picked out of the pack staring back at him. The kids cheered, happy the trick had worked again on someone else and still none the wiser as to how it had been done.

“How did you-”

“Heh, you’re so shocked. Maybe you were right and you didn’t put it there. Maybe that card just likes you.”

Ford thumbed the card, checking it over as his mind kicked into overdrive and tried to figure out what exactly had just happened.

But no matter how hard he tried, he just could not come up with a solution.

“How did you do that?”

Stan shrugged, shoulders relaxing and chest puffing up with pride. “I can’t tell you that! Trade secrets.” He tapped his nose with a wink before gathering up the cards again and starting to reshuffle them.

“Well, where did you learn it?”

Stan deflated, hand still raised as his mouth opened and closed. He looked over at Ford, face sheepish and suddenly preoccupied. “I don’t remember?”

“Oh.” Ford shook off the dismal atmosphere that threatened to fall. “Well, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that that was amazing!”

Stan’s face brightened. “You think so?”

“Of course. Do you have any more?”

“Do I!”

“Is this your card?”

“Yes! Wow! How did you do that?”

“I can’t tell you that, now can I, good looking?” Stan winked at the young lady before him, grinning charmingly at the blush his efforts gleaned.

And inwardly cheered the extra money she threw into the bag beside him for his hard work.

“It’s not all that impressive.”

Stan looked up as a shadow crossed over him, a towering figure of a man trying his best to intimidate him.

It wasn’t working.

“Oh? Looks like I’ll have to get the big guns out for you then.” Stan grinning, tying his hair up with a flourish as he set to work. He already knew how this would most probably pan out.

He just had to be ready for it.

He’d been right.

That had been his last trick of the day.

The man had grown angry instead of happy at his playful antics. It wasn’t his fault the guy had made a bet at the beginning and didn’t want to pay up when he couldn’t guess the trick.

Sure he might have egged him on but that was all part of the fun.

Besides, he’d known where that magic show was heading as soon as he showed up.

Some people just didn’t appreciate his magic.

Stan shook his head with a sigh, checking the alley entrance one more time before opening his bag to check everything was still there where it should be.

He gave an added grin at the bonus wallet on top of his usual pile of items. The man really shouldn’t have taken a swing at him. It was just too easy and tempting to snatch something when someone left their guard open like that.

Magic tricks, hustling, pickpocketing.

It was all sleight of hand anyway.

And Stan had to say, the ability was something he had become very good at.

.

Stan’s first proper meeting with the kids was an eventful one.

He hadn’t expected five year olds to be that imaginative.

Or perhaps he just hadn’t been around kids in a long time that weren’t grumbling about being dragged on one of his tours.

Either way, he had not expected the bubbling barrage of energy that he had received from the pair of them.

That and who would have known kids could be that cute?

He hadn’t even expected to see much of them. When he’d first entered the house the pair had been off doing their own thing.

He’d ignored the pang that little Dipper caused, head firmly stuck in a book reminding him painfully of Ford when they were young. But it was a fond sight, as was Mabel running around covered in copious amounts of glitter and shouting gibberish at the top of her voice.

Well, it might not have been gibberish but suffice to say, Stan had a hard time understanding her.

All they had done was pause for a few moments to stare at him in wide eyed shock as he was introduced before going back to what they’d been doing before as if the interruption was something totally normal in their little lives. They’d been interested in his gifts – a few stray Mystery Shack stickers and other assorted items that he assumed were ok for kids, that he had found luckily lying in the back of his car.

Stan didn’t mind the apprehension to talk to him, he probably looked quite daunting to them. He’d decided to go for some dramatic flair, wearing his best work clothes and his joking eye patch. He’d thought they might like it, but maybe he’d tried a bit too hard.

Instead he’d ended up sitting down with their parents over a cup of tea and hearing about all the things he’d missed over the years while they asked about the shack and how that was going. He’d met them once or twice before but pretending to be his brother to relatives was always more exhausting than tourists and strangers. But he’d only been able to see the kids the once when they were born, the highlight of his life as far as he was concerned, and the itch to see the little twins again had been fizzling ever since.

He promised himself he wouldn’t get attached.

He just liked the thought of there being more twins in the family. That was all it was.

It had nothing to do with hoping that they wouldn’t follow in his and Ford’s footsteps.

Nope.

Not at all.

And then Mabel had to come over with a present for him.

A small hand had tugged at his sleeve making him jump slightly and glance down. He hadn’t even heard her approach, which was weird because she’d been so loud only moments ago. Not to mention she was bright, all that glitter was making her glow. He almost wanted sunglasses around her. So the fact that she’d snuck up on him was very disconcerting.

“You alright there, sweetie?”

Small hands had just held themselves up to him and so without even thinking he picked her up and put her on his lap. He was sure he heard the click of a camera go off but chose to ignore it as he felt more than saw another small set of eyes on him from the doorway Mabel must have entered by.

He’d only put her on his lap, that wasn’t him gone soft.

Sure he hadn’t put up a fight.

But no one would know that just from that photo.

There was a sudden explosion of words out of the girl a few seconds later, a speedy little buzz of sentences that made him jump again. He had no chance of keeping up with her boundless energy and he ended up glancing at her parents instead to make sense of it, face pleading with them.

“I think she wants to show you something.”

“Oh right.” Stan glanced back down at her bright smile, front tooth missing and all. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I did!”

“With a lot of other words in between that I didn’t catch then.”

Mabel pouted at him before shoving the piece of paper up into his face. “Here!”

“Bit close, hun.”

“Why don’t you let your Great Uncle have it and go play some more with Dipper?”

“Fine~”

Stan shook his head as the paper vanished from sight, finding its way onto the table before him as she slipped off his lap and ran away to grab Dipper’s hand and whisper excitedly as they left them to it again.

He squinted over the drawing that she had left in front of him before picking it up for a closer look.

Just like her words- he had no idea what this was meant to be exactly.

And he had the horrible sinking feeling she’d be a lot more upset if he didn’t appreciate this one for all it was worth.

“What is this supposed to be exactly? A lion? A monkey?” Stan turned the page upside down a few times, trying to identify the shape before him. “I mean, it’s also black and red so I shouldn’t get my hopes up in understanding it, I guess.” He turned the whole page over, hoping that the little kid had written something to him to at least give him a clue.

He didn’t know what was harder. Code breaking Ford’s journal or figuring this one out.

“Shh, she’ll hear you.” Her mother giggled at the cute drawing and his obvious befuddlement, hitting his shoulder as she went passed to check on the kids.

“Yeah alright but, what is it?”

“She’s five, Uncle Stan, it’s not meant to make sense.”

Stan rolled his eyes, trying to stop the smile that wanted to quirk up at the endearing voices of the twins’ parents. He liked that, they deserved that. “Guess so, it’s great I guess then, if art doesn’t have to make sense.”

“Stan.”

“Alright, alright. Real little artist. Happy?”

“Better.”

They sat and talked for a bit longer before the kids found their way into the room again, another hand tugging at his sleeve to grab his attention.

This time it was Dipper.

And unlike Mabel, who didn’t seem to mind that he hadn’t known how to respond, Dipper wanted answers to everything.

If Stan didn’t know better he really would have suspected he’d gone back in time and met a much younger happier Ford than the one he had last seen.

“Do you work with a lot of animals?”

Stan raised an eyebrow at him. “Were you listening in earlier?” The small nod let him know the two had been sneaky. He liked that, he could appreciate that in kids. “Yeah, we have lots of animals at the shack! They keep me occupied a lot, let me tell ya.” Stan winked at him, conman smile on his face as Dipper’s lit up and he scrambled to sit in the large chair beside him.

There was another click of the camera. Stan wondered where their Dad was hiding the thing. No doubt it would be a nice photo though, him and Dipper sitting as if they were having an enthralling conversation, the older man leaning in to tell him something riveting.

Again, Stan told himself that the photo didn’t matter. So what, he was conning the small child? No one would be able to tell what they were talking about from a photo.

“Do lots of people come to see?”

“Oh, sure! They come from all over just to see one of our shows. Miles and miles, they come!” Stan puffed his chest out, gesturing wildly around them. “No one gives a show like your Great Uncle, you know.”

“Can we come see?” Mabel’s voice was high pitched from the doorway as she scurried forwards, arms outstretched again for Stan’s lap which he gave her without question.

“Can we join in?!” Dipper’s question came before he could answer, quick and excited and both of them buzzing with excitement.

“Uhh, sure, of course you can! You really want to join in?” Stan raised an eyebrow, disbelieving that the two of them could have actually wanted that from what they’d heard earlier. The quick enthusiastic nods told him otherwise. “Alright, I’ll hold you to that, but when you’re older! You can come see and join in when you’re older, OK?” He leant in close, pretending to whisper though their parents could hear, still laughing quietly in the corner. “It’s a lot of fun working with them animals, but they’re a handful as well, you know? I don’t think your parents would be alright with me letting you near them yet.”

“Aww, but when can we?”

“I dunno.” Stan looked over to their parents, eyes crinkling with amusement. “What do you think? When do you think is old enough?”

“I think twelve!”

“Mabel, it’ll be ages until we’re twelve!”

“Well then, twelve it is!” Stan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing at the small sulking child, arms crossed in front of him. “But I’m sure you’ll be allowed to come visit before then.”

Dipper narrowed his eyes at him and repeated his own words back to him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Stan grinned, holding out his hand for Dipper to take. “Well if that’s the case. Let’s shake on it. When you’re twelve, you’ll come and visit the shack and help me out there. Deal?”

“Deal!”

A small hand took one of his fingers, shaking it up and down energetically.

Stan wasn’t entirely sure what to make of them in that moment. These two bright dots lighting up his world within an hour or so of talking to him.

He was pretty sure he could feel his heart melting…which was weird and sappy and he did not approve of that!

He was not getting attached.

“How did you lose your eye? Was it in a show?” Mabel prodded at his cheek below the eye patch, curiosity taking over. There was a small reprimanding ‘Mabel’ from their mum but Stan waved it off. After all the eye patch was fake, and he was sure the kids would learn soon enough that sometimes it was better not to ask personal questions to people you had just met.

Stan shook his head, chuckling as he leaned in again to his new conspirators. “No, I used to be a pirate.” That lie was an easy one, ready to spin a tale as long as his arm if they asked more questions on it.

There was a bubble of giddiness settling in his chest as he spoke to them, their happiness was infectious. It wasn’t like lying was unusual for him but this was a different feeling entirely. Normally all his lies were spins to get people in. You take a tour, you make up an idiotic story that people lapped up and at the end of the day the money you make is as good as the stories you told.

This was…different.

This was telling a story purely to entertain.

And damn was it nice to have an appreciative audience that clung to his every word instead of gullible tourists who’d believe anything or teenagers who really didn’t want to.

There was an audible gasp from the pair as they turned to one another gleefully.

“He works at a circus and used to be a pirate?!”

“Wait, what?” The words filtered in slowly, Stan finding himself yet again lost to the whims of the two children before him.

“Our Grunkle’s cool! Did you own a parrot? Is it part of the circus now? Do you have a wooden leg too??”

Stan put his hands up to stop them from babbling further, though he was almost distracted by the nickname they’d given him, which made him pause for just a moment before snapping back to the questions at hand. “Hold it, hold it. What did you two say?”

“What did we say about what?”

Stan sighed. This was going to be difficult. “I heard the word circus.”

“Well, yeah.” Dipper gave him a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re a-one of those!”

“Yeah! One of those!” Mabel chipped in, both of them obviously forgetting the word they were looking for, or had yet to learn it.

Neither of them thought they needed to elaborate though.

“Nope, sorry kids, you’ve lost me.”

Dipper huffed, scooting himself off the chair and darting out of the room.

“Uhh…did I do something wrong?” Stan looked to the parents for help but the pitter patter of little feet let him know that the boy was on his way back already.

“One of these!”

A book was thrust into Stan’s hands, almost tumbling out again if Mabel hadn’t grabbed it too to hold it closer to him.

“One of these, one of these!” Mabel giggled, pointing wildly at the page.

“Ahh.”

Stan looked up at the dawning realisation on their father’s face.

“They’ve become quite enamoured by a cartoon circus on TV.”

Stan blinked, looking back down at the picture the twins were trying to show him.

What met him was a tall mysterious looking man in a red top hat. He wore a black suit, and a red bowtie and his arms were stretched wide for the audience before him, obviously riling them up for the show they were about to see.

Stan had to give it to them, no wonder they’d gotten the wrong end of the stick.

“Oh. Sorry to burst the bubble, kids, but I’m not a Ringmaster.”

The crushed little faces that met him made his heart twang.

Why on earth was that the one time he’d decided to be truthful?

Maybe because unlike anyone else, he didn’t want to get their hopes up and have them be disappointed in him too.

“You don’t work at a circus?”

Stan winced at the warble in Mabel’s voice. Could she be any more heart-breaking in that moment?

“Hey now, don’t look so upset. I mean you can go to loads of places to see a circus.” Stan looked down surreptitiously, gesturing them closer as he spoke in a secretive tone. “What I do is a lot more interesting, let me tell you.”

“See I work with magical creatures.”

The twins gasped again, eyes lighting up and slouches vanishing as they sat up to watch him with rapt attention again.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, all our creatures are one of a kind.” Stan nodded down at them as if every word was true. “We even had a- a unicorn for a while!”

Mabel stared up at him in awe. “A unicorn? What are they like?”

“Tricky to handle but if they like you, they’re a friend for life.” Stan grinned at her, beeping her nose and making her giggle. “In fact, I bet they’d love you. If we ever get another one I’ll be sure to tell you and you can come meet them.”

He could practically feel her buzzing with excitement at him. “And uhh- we’ve had-” He didn’t know why it was suddenly hard to form words around them. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want them to be disappointed in him again.

“Have you had any aliens?”

Stan blinked, eyes on the boy, eyebrows furrowed and waiting patiently for an answer. He nodded again, face completely serious. “They come and go as they please but they’ve been known to visit us for the occasional show now and then.”

“I knew they existed! Max at school said they didn’t!”

“Well, who do you believe? This Max or your Grunkle Stan?” Stan couldn’t help beaming at them.

He really liked that mashup of ‘Great Uncle’. Probably because it sounded far less formal and more like a relative you’d like to visit instead of being made to visit.

“Grunkle Stan, of course!” Mabel chimed in, tilting her head to look up at him before she threw a hand over her mouth and pushed off of him. “I forgot something!”

The paper that had been previously in front of him was swiped off the table as she vanished, along with the book now clasped to her chest.

Dipper stayed next to him, asking a thousand questions that he had to be quick to answer every time. Some were easy, some were a guess at what the boy wanted to hear but considering the kid hadn’t looked at him like a kicked puppy again he took it all as a win.

“Finished!” Stan turned in his seat as Mabel reappeared, the paper back in hand as she tore towards him.

This time he was prepared, arm outstretched for the drawing before she could practically launch it.

He was learning.

He grinned down at the addition to the piece, this part much more obvious. A large black and red suited figure stop beside the indistinguishable creature.

“Heh, look at that, you got my eyebrows.” He couldn’t help it as he leant down, pointing to the animal and looking at her parents defiantly, a twinkle of mischief gleaming. “So, my eyes aren’t what they used to be, sweetie, what’s beside me?”

Mabel gave a long suffering sigh at him. “That’s obvious! It’s you as a circus animal! I thought if you spent all your time as a- a Ringmaster then you’d like to know what it was like to be one of the animals!”

“Oh.” Stan could hear her parents snickerling getting louder from the corner. So much for winning that round. Now his jokes about ‘what is it’ seemed more like he was insulting himself. “Right, of course! That makes total sense.”

“But now, ‘cause you’re not a ringmaster…I guess it’s an animal you should have at the…the…”

“The shack?”

“Yeah! You have one of a kind animals.” Mabel pointed at him and then at the drawing. “You should have one of these.”

Stan snorted, shaking his head. “Alright, if you say so.”

“I do! I’ll let you keep that to help you find one.”

“Much obliged.” Stan ruffled her hair, getting a squeal of happiness as he stood up, picking her up with him. “Well it looks like I’ve got an assistant already. Welcome to the Mystery Shack, sweetie.” He looked down with a grin at Dipper’s upset expression. “Oh? What’s this? Is it another assistant?” There was a sudden yelp as Stan swooped in, gathering Dipper up as well onto his other shoulder.

There was another last click of a camera.

Stan couldn’t bring himself to care.

Years later when their parents would ask, voices filled with humour, whether he’d managed to find the ‘lion-monkey Stan’ he’d always tell them that he had no idea what they were talking about. He’d wave away their proof that he wasn’t as gruff as he made himself out to be, that there was evidence of him smiling genuinely with two small children hanging off his arms.

Little did they know that if you were to look on the back of the door to his bedroom you’d find a little girl’s well crumpled drawing and a small note from a young boy reminding him to ask a list of questions next time he saw some aliens.

If you were to find them and ask about them, he’d deny their very existence.

He promised himself he wouldn’t get attached.

.

“So, kid, you ready to make a deal yet?”

“Do we really have to have this conversation again?” Stan growled, glancing up at the yellow triangle his mind had conjured up with mounting rage. It was one thing to have this weird dream once, but this was, what? The fourth time? Maybe the fifth?

His mind could have come up with something a little more interesting than a floating, talking Dorito as well, if he was completely honest with himself.

He knew he could do better than that. It was frankly disappointing.

Besides, that yellow glow really hurt his eyes against the grey background.

Maybe his brain was punishing him.

As if real life didn’t do that enough.

“Listen. I really don’t have time to deal with you.”

Stan was tempted to force the issue and wake himself up. He’d figured out how to do that last time. But as it was and as much as he hated these weird little conversations, especially while he was in the middle of something important- he knew his body could really do with the rest.

He’d been running from Rico for a while now.

They’d almost caught up last night and he had meant to stay up, meant to keep himself wide awake and ready for them if they came calling. But all that adrenaline and running had taken its toll on him.

He’d really only meant to close his eyes for a second.

“Well, how about you don’t deal with me and just make a deal with me? Then I’ll be out of your hair. How does that sound?”

“Nice try. But real or not, I still wouldn’t fall for a lame trick like that.”

Bill huffed at him, his annoyance visible for the briefest of moments before it smoothed over. Stan didn’t buy the performance for a second. And really? Bill? What kind of name was Bill as well? Hardly the name of an all-powerful being if you asked Stan.

“Kid, when are you going to realise I’m real? And that I’m just trying to help you out?”

Stan leant back in disgust as the thing slipped forward so that they were less than a foot apart. He could practically feel the smug self-assurance oozing off of the weird little creature.

He really hated that yellow glare, and the confidence that seemed to go with it.

If he had half the confidence this thing had, he’d probably never do badly at a con again. In fact he’d never be able to stop his silver tongue flying away with him.

Though, then again, this guy had yet to win him over, so maybe it was a good thing they weren’t all that alike.

“Come on, kid. Think about it. I’m offering to keep you safe. You’d never have to worry about those goons, ever again. Doesn’t that sound like a dream come true?”

“Yeah but you never tell me what you’re gonna do or what you want in return. I’m not dumb. I know a bad idea when I see one.”

Bill seemed to bite his tongue on a response to that last bit.

Probably for the best.

Stan had already punched him once before. Right out of his head.

He just wished he’d stayed out of it. He’d actually been able to last a week without another odd conversation.

“Look, I don’t want much. Honest. In fact I was doing it out of the goodness of my heart. All I’d ask is that you take your new found time to go make amends with your brother and help him out. Is that so odd? A benevolent creature trying to help a man down on his luck?”

Stan glared at the creature. Sure enough, it was another part of his brain trying to torment him. If he gave in and went to see his brother, he already knew what the response would be.

“Actually, yeah it is kind of odd. You keep saying you’re not made up but why would anyone but me want me to go see Six-Ford?”

He didn’t need to actually go meet him and see that response in person. No, thank you.

“Well- I-”

“Look buddy, these chats are fun and all but you know- it’s not happening. And the sooner you figure that out, the sooner we can both stop doing this whole charade.” Stan pointed between them, trying his best to be charming as he smiled up at him endearingly. “It’s been great. Nice to meet you, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He winked, blowing a kiss as his grin turned feral. “Better yet, let it, then maybe you’ll take the hint and take a hike. Please, don’t feel the need to keep in touch.”

Stan vanished, his mindscape disappearing as he forced himself to wake up and left Bill to it.

Bill sulked as he was left alone, cane twirling as he sighed tiredly.

“Should have gone for the other twin. I bet he wouldn’t have thought I was a figment of his imagination. Well, too late for that now. Can’t have them both knowing about me.”

Bill snorted, a flicker of red overtaking him as he glared at nothing.

.

“So? What do you want?”

Stan frowned down at the pig that had suddenly impeded his view of the television for no apparent reason. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was thinking, unlike Mabel who seemed telepathically linked to the strange creature, but he was pretty sure that it wanted something from him.

That’s what that look normally meant, right? When animals sat in front of you and just stared up at you?

Probably wanted feeding.

…What does Mabel feed the thing?

Stan grumbled, huffing at the pig as he tried to move it with his foot out of the way. He didn’t budge an inch. “Go on! Get! Mabel feeds you, not me, go find her.”

Dipper wandered passed the door as he shouted, poking his head in for just a moment out of curiosity to regard the scene and then continue on as if this was a normal every day event. “Actually, Waddles just does that. He doesn’t really want anything other than attention sometimes.”

“Look even Dipper understands you better than me.” Stan prodded Waddles with his foot again, getting nothing more than a squeak in response and a heavy pressure back against his foot. “Go disturb Mabel! Or Dipper! Let me watch my show.” He moved his foot, leaning in. Waddles seemed to brighten up, shuffling closer too. “Between you and me, you’ll get a better reaction from Sixer, how about you go annoy him?”

With that Stan sat back up, glad to see that the pig shuffling forward had left him with a view of the television again. He chuckled, relaxing back into his show, suitably assuming he had won this round.

Until Waddles wandered into his line of sight again and sat down completely unphased by his antics.

“Waddles! What do you want?!” Stan growled, glaring at it. The pig hadn’t been this annoying since he’d been asked to look after it by Mabel.

And to tell the truth that had been a whirlwind of a memory to remember, that was for sure.

Not to mention it had been a memory that came to him while he’d been sleeping too.

In hindsight, nothing could probably beat waking up in the morning dazed and confused, stumbling down the stairs to an excited twin who knew you had remembered something. After all, the memories were coming in thick and fast now and he woke up most mornings having to ask at least one of them whether his memories were real or not.

The ‘did we fight zombies’ day was probably a close second to best reaction day from Ford. Though for a second it had looked like he might have a heart attack, hence the first place spot being stolen.

But nothing would beat turning around perplexed and bemused to a beaming twin and blurting out one word that changed his expression entirely and left both of them staring at each other debating if it was a very vivid dream or an actual memory.

“…Pterodactyl?”

It was a while before the kids came down and explained what had happened for both their sakes.

So with that out of the way, Stan gave up doubting the weird and wonderfully absurd memories that his mind threw at him, instead recounting any dreams to a rapt audience of his brother who seemed quite happy to hear about the summer Stan had spent with just the twins.

Yet again it seemed, Waddles had helped fix something else.

Or at least got the ball rolling again.

Stan took a moment to really look at the pig, who again seemed to get happier under the attention. He could be as gruff as he wanted, but deep down he knew he had a lot to thank the annoying little creature for.

Even if Waddles had ended up getting him in trouble with Mabel.

Even if Waddles had ended up getting him in trouble with a Pterodactyl.

He had still got Stan’s memories flooding back with the same tactics that had irritated Stan throughout the summer since Mabel had won the thing.

And in the end, that day when he’d ended up punching an extinct monster, as you do if you’re Stanley Pines, had been one heck of an adventure with the kids that he was pretty happy to have as a memory once again.

And telling Ford that memory as his face grew more and more shocked – a mix of horror, awe and downright enraptured by the story Stan spun, well...that was something he was quite happy to have too.

Stan blinked again, realising the pig was suddenly closer and much more in focus as he zoned out of his thoughts. Apparently the pig quite liked the attention. Stan sighed, scrutinising the pig as he picked it up. “OK, let’s try this again…what do you want?”

He frowned as the pig made no move to do anything, still just staring at him and wiggling slightly, though not as if he was trying to escape. “What? You wanted this?”

He dropped the pig onto the seat with him, wondering whether it would make a decision that way and was surprised when it did move. Waddles gave a small snort of gratitude before instead of getting in his way, took the moment to sit on his lap, facing the television.

“What are you? A cat? Get out of it!” Stan huffed down at the pig as it got comfortable, looking up at him as if he was the one acting strange before settling down again.

Stan sighed, resigned to his fate suddenly. At least this way, Waddles wasn’t trying to get his attention and he could watch his show in peace.

He just had to come up with an excuse in case Mabel came in and found them like this.

He hoped she wouldn’t take a photo, this definitely did not need to have evidence lying around somewhere. Especially if he fell asleep like he usually did watching this show.

He looked back down, debating throwing the creature off and doing something else if he couldn’t have his peaceful moment alone but in all honesty, he didn’t actually mind this.

And really, he hadn’t thought about the pig all that much since his first memory had been ‘Waddles’. And that really had sparked everything off, like a button being pressed that brought with it names and faces and all manner of tiny, specific and trivial details.

He smiled softly, hand patting Waddles as he sat there, not really sure what else to do.

It felt kind of awkward really, but he felt the need to do something at this odd turn of events that had befallen his afternoon.

“Heh, thanks, I guess.”

Stan waited for an answer, not really sure why as the pig settled down to watch his show with him. He shook his head, laughing and scratching its ear.

“I guess ‘thank you’ doesn’t cut it when you don’t understand. I’ll ask Mabel what you like to eat later.”

.

Huh? What is that?

Ford hummed, eyebrows scrunching in his half asleep daze. He was sure he was catching the tail end of a dream as he lay there slowly awakening from slumber. He could feel the boat swaying, the waves gently rocking him back into his dreams where music seemed to prevail, for once filling his head with soft images of peaceful days instead of nightmares from the other side of the portal. He shook his head, trying to dispel the notion as he sat up. He’d slept enough, as comforting as that sleep had been, it was time to face the day.

Wait…

Ford’s frown deepened as he woke up further.

The music was still echoing around the boat.

He tilted his head slowly, listening out to the warbling notes. They weren’t at a port, nor would Stan have failed to wake him if another boat was approaching theirs. His head tried to run through a list of things that could possibly be causing the noise but the only logical and completely illogical answer all at once-

Was Stanley.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he stood up, stretching out to wake himself fully. He shuffled to the door with a yawn, the music still getting louder as he went. He felt he should probably prepare himself but it sounded so nice…he couldn’t quite bring himself to heed the dulled alarm bell ringing in his head.

He cracked the door open, peeking through and paused at the sight that met him, brain finally connecting the dots and realising his earlier theory had indeed been the correct one. Stan stood leaning against the railing, playing away without a care in the world in the morning light. Ford stayed where we was, locked in place at the door, thoughts of going out on deck crushed swiftly.

He didn’t want to ruin the scene.

He knew Stan would brush it off and pretend it never happened if he did that, if he went and confronted him. He’d probably never do it again either, knowing that the sound could wake his brother. Besides, even without the thoughts of Ford never getting another chance to watch him play, he looked so peaceful, stood there, eyes closing every so often as he sent tinkling musical notes skimming across the waves.

Ford didn’t want to take that from him.

He couldn’t take that away from him.

Even if Stan had been irritating him with the blasted thing for weeks.

He was sure he’d heard him play a few times on the boat but had never really caught him in the act. He had no idea where he’d got the thing, or if he had brought it with them when they started their journey. All he did know was that Stan had a habit of playing the darn thing when he was completely and utterly bored out of his mind. When the fish just weren’t biting and he had to be patient, or the day was just going especially slow for once. Sometimes these days were few and far between but other times when anomalies refused to rear their heads Stan got more and more bored and attention seeking by the day.

And he never brought out the harmonica to play it nicely.

Oh no, of course not.

With Stan it was, of course, to get a reaction, to mess with someone.

After all, what was more fun on a boring day than getting a rise out of your twin brother?

Not that that seemed to be its only use.

Apparently it was a good distractor in a lot of cases.

The first time Stan had used it, Ford had jumped out of his skin.

They’d been at a small pub, a fishing village in the middle of nowhere. Just stopping off for a night to clear their heads and relax after a particularly gruelling leg of their journey.

A fight had broken out, too much drink and highly strung temperaments pulling the strings as a shouting match echoed through the small area. Ford had hunched over his own nursed drink, one too many bar fights leading to one too many injuries through his travels. He’d learnt to keep his head down and his mouth shut.

Stan apparently never had.

A sudden sharp noise had reigned, a flitter of quick high pitch notes that set teeth grating and ears ringing.

Once, in the right pitch and intensity, the rhythm might have been a song.

But if that was the case as Ford rubbed his ears and shook his head- his brother had well and truly butchered it.

“Oi, cut it out, will ya? I came here for a quiet drink before we got back out to sea. I don’t want to get involved with a show. Take it outside or calm it down.”

Ford had sat stunned for a second, a hiss of a reprimand on the tip of his tongue as everyone went silent and turned slowly to them. He could feel the eyes prickling down his spine. The fighting stopped, the yelling from before mingling in with the remnants of the high pitch wailing of a harmonica as a hush settled over the entire building.

For a second no one seemed to know what to do. Other than Stan who sat there, not deigning to turn to the arguments occupants. He instead choose to nurse his drink at the bar where only the bartender and Ford could see his expression, a curl of a smile that made worry coil deep in Ford’s stomach.

After all it was one that welcomed the victory of them doing as they had been told but seemed to welcome the alternative of a fight just as much.

To Ford’s surprise, the men sat down, quailing under Stan’s performance.

Not that Ford could blame them. A stranger walks in and takes the wind out of your sails like that? Probably best not to test his limits. Besides, looking at his brother in that moment who gave every appearance of a weather worn fisherman in the midst of a town that prided itself for knowing the waters and what they could do, he could definitely pull of an aura of cold and quiet intimidation.

And they didn’t even know about Stan’s left hook and how easily he could back that presence up.

There had been shock for a few moments as Stan played with his harmonica before pocketed it and downing his drink. “That’s more like it.” He’d tapped his glass against the bar to get the still staring bartender’s attention and then pointedly asked him to give those who’d been fighting a drink to talk and calm down over, suitably finding a way to dispel any ill wishes that were probably being levelled at him.

To say Ford had been impressed would be an understatement, even with the utter perplexity as to where on earth Stan had pulled that harmonica from and why he had it in the first place.

Ford’s awe had quickly turned to horror though as Stan’s mind took a turn into more familiar routes later on.

Stan had proceeded, in a slightly tipsy state to continue his rendition on the way home, much to Ford’s chagrin and panicked shushing.

It had been Ford’s own fault really.

“I didn’t know you could play.”

“Wha-?”

“The harmonica. I didn’t know you could play.”

Ford had rolled his eyes at Stan’s slurred speech, holding his brother up slightly as they went. He wasn’t that far gone but he’d wanted to be sure they both got back to the boat in one piece.

All the more fool him because it meant his hands were occupied when, down a quiet street full of small quaint houses his brother had whipped out the harmonica with a grin and loudly sent it wailing through the hushed night at his words.

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Ford hissed, shaking his brother which only aided in adding another warble to the notes as he tried not to chuckle.

“I thought you wanted me to play?”

“Not now! And not- not that!”

“Well, what did you want me to play?”

“Oh, I don’t know! Something proper!”

“I am playing it properly.”

Unfortunately, as far as Ford was concerned, that was the precise moment when he figured out that he could annoy his twin with the aforementioned ‘musical instrument’.

His grin had split impossibly wide, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“The whole point of a harmonica is to see people’s reactions to it.”

Ford shook the memories from his mind and slowly closed the door again. Getting ready slowly took precedence as he let the music filter in for just a few moments longer, whilst he could. He would only get more harassment if he went through the trouble of disturbing him. And he really didn’t want another out of key song when Stan thought it was about time for him to stop researching a major find.

And so the day went without a hitch. Ford didn’t bring it up and Stan, obviously satisfied with his performance in the morning didn’t bring it out again either.

It was not the last day that Ford awoke to music.

But it was also not the last day he was hassled by Stan’s constant annoyances with the pesky thing either.

And one day it finally all became a bit too much for him to quietly fume over.

All Ford wanted was to finish his sentence and Stan kept making quick jarring noises that made him lose his train of thought entirely.

The words bubbled out before he could stop them.

“I know you can play that properly, you know.”

There was silence for a moment as Ford turned to Stan, eyebrow quirking upwards and his own self-satisfied smirk for once reigning supreme as he regarded Stan’s slack expression.

A myriad of expressions seemed to flit across Stan’s face as he connected the dots before his eyes narrowed at him, obviously calculating.

And then that damned smile had resurfaced and with horror Ford understood what it meant.

“No. No, Stan- don’t you dare-”

Stan took a deep breath, blowing as hard as he could into the piece and making a piercing racket that had Ford clamping his hands over his ears and wondering if people could hear the awful sound on the nearby coastlines.

“I know I can play it properly too.”

Ford glared at the grin his brother levelled at him as he twirled the harmonica between his fingers and left him to his work.

There was a moment when he debated following him, debated ripping the thing out of his hands and throwing it to the bottom of the ocean.

But knowing his luck, Stan would have brought another for that very purpose.

Plus it would also mean that he wouldn’t get to hear the morning music whenever the urge took over his brother. And that would probably make Stan unhappy not to have that little slice of peace each morning. Ford wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do with himself without it. Ironically for the racket he made with it, it somehow kept him out of trouble more than it got him into it.

Ford gave a sigh, turning back to his journal, trying his hardest to remember where he had left off. The light glinted off of another item though, catching his attention. His eyes hit the distracting object just as an idea sprung to life.

The kids didn’t believe him that Stan could play. Stan always denied it when it came up in their video calls, no matter how much Mabel pleaded with him to play, or Dipper disbelieved that he could. All he would do was send a crackling cacophony of annoying sounds through the line that the others soon put a stop to.

He was sure that if the kids knew though that Stan would have to give in to their requests.

A grin to rival Stan’s wound its way onto Ford’s face as he picked up the phone, tapping the screen as he thought through how exactly he was going to do this.

After all, Stan couldn’t deny irrefutable proof when it was staring him in the face.

.

.

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Bonus: (If you’ve checked out the artwork/comic)

“You didn’t actually delete the video, did you?”

Ford shook his head as he watched the kids through the video call. “No, I told him I was planning to and he’d messed it up which he found highly satisfying.”

“Good, ‘cause we can just cut the end of the recording off.”

Ford grinned, nodding at his niblings, peeking around to make sure Stan wasn’t aware of what they were doing.

“See I didn’t know if that was possible, but I assumed you two would know what to do. I thought deleting it after all that effort would be a waste. I’m glad my assumption paid off.”

Mabel pushed her way on to screen, making Dipper yelp in the process.