Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It only takes Mabel one night to realize she’s going to need two cribs.

Working on the portal is many things— frustrating, confusing, dread-inducing, hopeless — but quiet is not one of them.  Mabel becomes acutely aware of this when she finally heads upstairs to go to bed, and hears Stanley wailing.  And he clearly hadn’t just started either, considering how bright red his face is when Mabel makes it up to her room and finds him crying in his crib.

Stanley is many things too— a complete shift to Mabel’s mental image of what her life would look like, a huge drain on her financial resources, the first creature since Waddles that she’d loved the second she saw him— but louder than two stories of basement and an interdimensional portal isn’t one of them.  But she can’t very well move the crib into the basement, Maria will ask questions about where it’s gone.

So, the next day, Mabel goes into town and buys a second crib, and writes off the questions by saying the first one broke.  Then she takes it down to the basement, and that night, after all of the customers leave the craft store, she carries Stanley down with her.

No, she doesn’t know what she’s going to do in a couple years when he’s old enough to remember this and she can’t just bring him downstairs with her, she’ll figure it out.

For now, it’s fine.  Stanley’s sleeping in the crib next to the control panel in the first room, as far away from the portal as she can put him, and when he cries, Mabel can stop what she’s doing and hold him until he falls back asleep.

He does bring a different problem, though.  Because Stanley may not be as loud as the portal and two floors of the house, but he is still loud.   And Mabel is not exactly at her least stressed when she’s working on the portal.

“You said you wanted this,” she mutters to herself as Stanley cries in the crib.  “You said you could handle it.  And you are not giving that man the satisfaction of being proven right.”

She hears Stanley take a deep breath in, and Mabel drops her head onto Journal 1 and covers her ears just before he lets out an ear-splitting scream.

She can’t remember the last time she’s slept through the night.  It’s either the portal, or it’s Stanley, or it’s the portal and Stanley.

God, she’s too old to be raising a kid.

Stanley keeps wailing, and Mabel forces herself out of the desk chair and over to the crib.

“Kid,” she says to Stanley, in a voice that she means to sound sweet but just ends up coming out exhausted.  “I don’t understand what the problem is.  I already checked your diaper, and I fed you before we came down here.  It hasn’t been long enough for you to be hungry yet.”

Stanley just continues to wail and squirm back and forth in the crib, until Mabel is finally forced to bend down and pick him up.

Almost as soon as he’s tucked inside her arms, Stanley quiets down and looks up at her.  He makes a happy babble noise.

Mabel gives a slightly hysterical laugh.  “Kiddo, that’s really sweet, but I kind of need both hands right now,” she says, gesturing to the notebook she’d been writing in and the journal next to it, as if Stanley has any clue what they mean.

Predictably, as a two month old baby, Stanley does not respond to this.

Mabel sighs and walks back over to the desk, propping the journal up against the back of it as best she can while holding Stanley, and then sitting them both down and picking up the pencil.  Her handwriting looks more than a little sloppy while focusing most of her attention on holding Stanley properly, but she writes as much as she can, until she feels her head starting to droop.

She really can’t afford to fall asleep while holding Stanley, so she pushes the chair back from the desk and stands.  Time to call it a night, she supposes.

Stanley tugs on her hair during the elevator ride up, but Mabel’s tired enough that she lets him, all the better to keep her awake.

Waddles must be alerted to the sound of her closing the vending machine door, because he comes running into the room and slams his head against Mabel’s legs, oinking happily.  Stanley babbles again in response, and then the two of them start talking back and forth.

Mabel smiles, exhausted but fond, and lets Waddles follow them both back up to her bedroom.

Waddles curls up happily in his bed, which is on the floor right next to Mabel’s, as soon as they get there.  Stanley is calm enough that when Mabel sets him down in his crib, he doesn’t start screaming again, and Mabel manages to sing to him long enough that his eyes slip shut.  Hopefully he’ll stay down for a few hours this time.

“God,” Mabel mutters to herself, looking from Stanley to Waddles.  “Dipper is going to kill me when he gets back and finds out there’s a kid and a pig living in his house.”

She forces a laugh, because the other option is to sob, and she’s too tired to cry tonight.

She barely manages to make it back to her bed before she falls asleep, clothes and all.  She does feel it when Waddles crawls up into the bed next to her, however.  Give it a couple years and Stanley will probably be doing that too.

She’s going to have to buy a bigger bed.

Ah, well.  It’s worth it for her pig and her boy.

Chapter Text

“Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel, there’s a little man outside!”

Mabel closes the door to the cash register and turns to see Stanley pointing out the door, wide-eyed and awestruck.  “A little man?” she asks.

“Yeah!  He’s got a big red hat and a funny beard!”

Gnome.

Mabel has been thinking for a while about how she wants to play this.  It’s not like Stanley can avoid Gravity Falls’ weirdness forever.  At the latest, he’s going to find out next year when he starts school and all of the other kids have their own stories.

But she also can’t make things seem too enticing.  It’s not safe for a kid Stanley’s age to be running around playing with gnomes, after all.

“Okay,” she says, gesturing outside.  “Show me.”

Stanley grabs her hand and starts pulling her towards the door, and sure enough, when they get outside there’s a gnome caught in the plastic remains of a Pitt Cola pack.

And actually, that could work pretty well.

“Oh, that’s a gnome, buddy,” Mabel says, giving Stanley a smile.  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, but Gravity Falls has some creatures that are a little different from your everyday stuff, like Gompers or Waddles.  They follow some different rules, so you’ve just gotta learn what they are and follow them, okay?  Here, I’ll show you.”

She keeps her grip on Stanley’s hand and walks them both over to the gnome, who doesn’t seem super thrilled about them approaching, but is too trapped to get away.

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna hurt you,” Mabel says gently, crouching down in front of it.  Stan peeks around from behind her, still seeming fascinated.  But Mabel just reaches forward and slips the plastic off from the gnome’s arm and leg.  The gnome jumps up, and Mabel holds her hand up to stop Stanley from running after it when it scampers into the woods.

“Woah,” Stanley whispers.

“And that’s it,” Mabel says simply.  “They’re just goin’ about their business, like other creatures out here.”

Stanley grins up at her.  “Cool!”

“They are pretty cool,” Mabel says, smiling back.  “But some of them can be dangerous too.  You know how we have to be safe when we hear wolves howling outside?”

Stanley nods.

“Same kind of thing.  So if you see a creature you haven’t seen before, just ask me and I’ll let you know what it is and if it’s safe, okay?”

Stanley nods, seeming perfectly happy with that answer.  “Okay!” he calls.  “Can I feed Waddles lunch?”

“Sure you can,” Mabel says, a small ball of nerves in her chest releasing.  They walk back inside, and she takes a moment to feel glad that went so well.  Knowing Stanley, he’s bound to get into his fair share of trouble anyways, but hopefully now he knows he can come to her for help and with questions.

There are things around that are a lot more dangerous than gnomes, after all.

Chapter Text

Mabel didn’t get enough sleep the night before, due to getting stuck downstairs when Waddles decided to fall asleep right in front of the vending machine.  And she knows that pig.  If she reveals where the portal is, he’ll start poking around the machine until Stan figures out what he’s asking for and lets him downstairs.  So the planned unintentional-all nighter, which she’s probably too old for, turns into a night of falling asleep slumped over the desk, which she is definitely too old for.  She manages to get upstairs without being seen, but she’s so exhausted that when she walks past the front door and sees two Stanleys standing there staring at each other she doesn’t stop at first.

She makes it all the way to the doorway to the kitchen before what she just saw processes, and she stops dead in her tracks.  She walks backwards the couple of steps it takes to make it to the front door.  Nope, it wasn’t her exhausted brain seeing things, there’s a second kid standing right outside the door, and he looks just like Stanley if he wore glasses.

As soon as she stops, Stan turns to face her.  “I think the shapeshifter got out again,” he says.  “And like… forgot how to do it right.”

“Um,” Mabel says.

The kid in the doorway adjusts his glasses, looking incredibly nervous.  “Hi,” he whispers.  “I’m Stanford Pines.  I kind of ran away from home.”

A stone drops into Mabel’s stomach.  “Kid,” she says weakly.  “You live in Jersey.”

Stanford Pines bites his lip and nods.

Mabel opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

“What are you talking about?” Stanley asks, drawing her attention.  His expression is confused and hesitant.

Mabel tries to swallow.  She was ready for the gnome conversation.  She isn’t ready for this conversation.

Mabel takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair.  “Come in,” she says, waving her hand more towards Stanford.  “Both of you, come in.”

“What— Grauntie Mabel, we can’t let the shapeshifter in our house!” Stan exclaims.

“He’s not a shapeshifter, kid,” Mabel says, giving him a sympathetic frown.  “He’s your brother.”

…

Stanford, for his part, seems to already know who Stanley is.  He sits down quietly at the kitchen table and doesn’t say anything, but he keeps sneaking glances at Stanley in a way that makes it clear he knows something, and that’s why he came here specifically.

Despite the countless questions he no doubt has, Mabel can’t help but feel a little grateful that he seems willing to sit there quietly.  This conversation is going to be hard enough.  She really should have had it with Stanley sooner, and she probably would have, if the reason he’d grown up here had been different.

But the reason isn’t different.  It’s what it is.  And Mabel doesn’t want to have this conversation with a 12 year old.  She doesn’t want to have it at all.

Despite all her wishes, however, Stanford’s here now.  And that means she can’t put it off anymore.

“Okay,” Mabel says, folding her hands and looking at Stanley, who’s glaring up at her in obvious want of an explanation.  “So, Stanley, you know I’m your great aunt, and not your mother, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, crossing his arms.  “But you said you adopted me ‘cause my Ma and Pa weren’t in the picture anymore.  ‘Cause they died or somethin.’”

Stanford’s eyes go wide, and he looks at Mabel.

Mabel winces, then sighs.  “I did adopt you,” she says.  “And your parents aren’t in the picture.  But… not because they died.”

Stan shakes his head.  “But I thought—”

“I know you did,” Mabel says.  “I… I let you.”

Stan looks at her, and Mabel hates the lost expression on his face.  “I don’t understand,” he says.

Mabel holds out her hand, but Stan just pushes it aside.  “Grauntie Mabel, tell me what’s going on,” he says.

Mabel closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and looks as gently as she can at Stanley.

“Kiddo, there isn’t an easy way to say this,” she says quietly.  “Your parents… didn’t want you.”

All of the emotion drops from Stan’s face, and Mabel can’t help extending her hand a little closer to him, even if Stan still doesn’t take it.

“It’s their loss, Stanley,” Mabel says.  “Because you are a wonderful and bright kid and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Why not,” Stan says.  Mabel can’t read his tone at all.  “Why didn’t they.”

“They said they weren’t prepared for twins,” Mabel says.

Stanley looks up across the table, and Stanford’s eyes widen even further before he looks quickly away.

“Stanley, listen,” Mabel says, but before she can say anything else, Stan pushes the chair back.

“I need a minute,” he says.  Mabel still can’t read his tone.

“Stanley, let’s talk about this,” Mabel says.

Stan shakes his head and starts for the stairs.  “Just leave me alone for a while,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Mabel’s about to stand up and go after him when Stanford speaks up.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  “I didn’t realize he didn’t know.”

Mabel gives him a warm smile.  “Don’t worry about that, kiddo,” she says.  “That’s not your fault.”

And, since Stan did ask for space and might actually benefit from it, she folds her hands and turns to face Stanford.

“So,” she says.  “You ran away from home?”

Stanford winces and looks down at the table.  He nods.

“Can I ask why?” Mabel asks.

“Pa told me about my brother, and I wanted to meet him,” Stanford says, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers.  He’s got gloves on that look a little too big for his hands, and Mabel’s not sure why.  He’s from New Jersey, after all.  It couldn’t be that much colder in Oregon than it was there.

Mabel crosses her arms.  “Kid,” she says.  “You don’t travel across the whole country by yourself because of that.  How did you even get here?  Please tell me you were safe.”

“I was safe,” Stanford protests, sounding a little offended.  “I took a bus.  Well, a couple buses.  But I was safe!”

Mabel raises an eyebrow.  “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh…”

She sighs, and pushes her chair back as she stands.  “Alright, I’ll make you something to eat.  And then we’re gonna have to call your parents.”

“NO!” Stanford says, so fast and desperate that it catches Mabel off guard.  “Please, they’ll be so mad.”

“Stanford, buddy, you ran away,” Mabel says.  “And traveled across the whole country without their permission.  Of course they’ll be mad.”

“But they’ll make me go home,” Stanford says.  He starts to reach out and grab Mabel’s hand, but seems to catch himself halfway and pulls his hand back.  “I can’t.   Not yet.  I came all this way to meet Stanley.  I— I have to meet him.  I can’t just learn that I have a twin brother and then go on not knowing anything about him and never seeing him!  You don’t understand.”

Mabel swallows past a sudden lump in her throat.  “Stanford,” she says weakly.

“Please,” Stanford says desperately.  “Please don’t make me go back.  Just let me stay for a little while.  Like, like for the summer!  I can work in your craft store, I can make myself useful!  I promise!”

“Buddy, that’s not the problem,” Mabel starts.

“Please,” Stanford says.  “I just want to get to know him.  Aren’t I supposed to?  I don’t want to keep being apart.”

Well, this kid is going to be the death of her.

“I,” Mabel says, because she knows when she’s beaten.  “I can’t make any promises—”

“Yes!  That’s a yes!  Oh, thank you thank you thank you!”  Stanford leaps up and runs around the table, then throws his arms around Mabel.  He has a strange style of hug, keeping his hands off of her entirely even as his arms encircle her back.

“I will talk to them,” Mabel says firmly, as she pats him on the back.  “But I still have to tell them you’re here.”

Stanford looks a little less overjoyed when he pulls back, but he nods.  “Okay,” he says.  Then his stomach grumbles, and Mabel heaves a sigh.

“I’ll make you something to eat first,” she says.  “What do you want?”

And what did she just get herself into?

…

“He what.”

“He wants to stay here for the summer,” Mabel says, carrying the phone as far away from the living room as she can get, where Stanley is watching TV and eating dinner.  She wants to have this conversation separately with him.  Stanford, however, is sitting at the table, looking up at her with so much hope and desperation in his eyes that after a second Mabel has to turn around.

“Absolutely not,” Filbrick growls.  “You put that boy’s ass back on a bus home this instant.”

“Filbrick,” Mabel says firmly.  “I think it’s a good idea.”

“You are not the boy’s father—”

“No, but I sure do know what it looks like when a kid is determined enough to not change their mind,” Mabel says.  “If you shoot this opportunity down, it’s just going to backfire down the road.  And he deserves the chance to get to know his brother.”

“That boy is no family of his—”

“Watch yourself,” Mabel growls, apparently surprising Filbrick enough that he stops.  Mabel continues before he can keep talking.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of an extra kid for the summer.  And I think this is something he needs.”

“I decide what he needs—”

“Filbrick,” Mabel says, lowering her voice.  “Don’t turn this into a fight.  You know you won’t win.”

There’s a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line, and Mabel can almost hear the rage coming over the telephone.

But finally, Filbrick grinds out, “He calls me every. single. week.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Mabel says calmly.  “And I’ll pay the bus fare to send him home at the end of the summer.”

“Oh, yes you will,” Filbrick growls.  “You owe me, after this stunt.”

“No,” Mabel says.  “You owe me.  You still do.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

“You’re the one who refused to take ‘that’s what family’s for’ as an answer,” Mabel says.  “It’s too late to get out of it now.”

“Go to hell,” Filbrick spits, and then the line goes dead.

Mabel sighs, feeling a weight press down on her shoulders, and puts the phone back on the hook.

But she’s smiling when she turns around to face Stanford, and as soon as he spots it, all the nerves disappear from his face and he lights up like the sun.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” he yells, and runs across the room to give her another hug, still in his strange hands-off style.

Mabel sighs, and wraps her arms around him.  She’s definitely just made this summer a lot harder.  But, well.

“That’s what family’s for,” she says, giving Stanford a tight squeeze.

He beams up at her, and she knows she’s made the right call.

Chapter Text

Mabel is admittedly a little surprised when she finds Stanford up and sweeping around in the store first thing in the morning.

“Stanford?” she says around a yawn.  Stanford jumps and turns to face her.  “Kiddo, how long have you been up?”

“A couple hours,” Stanford says, sounding like he’s attempting to sound awake and excited.  “I told you I’d make myself useful!  I reorganized your stock in alphabetical order while taking into account what kind of supplies it is, wrote down the new setup here so it’s easy to understand and learn on top of being better organized—” here he shoves a piece of laminated paper at her— “laminated the page, obviously, and dusted and swept everything!  Well, I’m almost done with the sweeping, anyway.  Next I’m gonna—”

“Woah, woah, kid,” Mabe says, holding her hands out.  “You gotta slow down.  I haven’t even had my Mabel Juice yet.”

Stanford blinks at her.  “But—”

“Look, that’s all very impressive, and thank you, but for now, why don’t you just come have some breakfast.  It’s your first morning here, I’m gonna make pancakes.”

Stanford’s eyes widen at the mention of pancakes, and he sets the broom down and follows Mabel into the kitchen.

He sits at the table, and folds his gloved hands together in front of him, and Mabel’s heart melts a little at the sight.  She hides a smile as she turns to open the cabinet above the stove, but as soon as she does she groans.

“Jeff!” she snaps, and reaches inside to snatch the gnome up.  “Just because I gave you edible glitter one time does not mean you can eat all the food in my cabinets!  We’ve talked about this!”

“Mabel, you don’t understand what you’ve done to us,” Jeff says, reaching desperately towards her face.  “The black market, it’s gotten out of hand.  Every gnome around wants edible glitter.  It has to be added to your pies or you lose the bake-off automatically!  I can’t lose to Jason again, Mabel, I can’t!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got my own glitter addiction to support, bub,” Mabel says.  She carries Jeff, who’s still squirming, over towards the window and drops him out of it.  “Try the fairies’ neck of the woods.”

“Wait, Mabel, please!”

Mabel slams the window in Jeff’s face and rolls her eyes, turning back to the cabinet.

“Sorry about him,” she says to Stanford, pulling the pancake mix out.  “It didn’t feel like a good time to tell you yesterday, but you’re gonna learn pretty quick that Gravity Falls is—”

When she turns around again, Stanford is staring at the window with wide eyes, but rather than being shocked or confused, he looks ecstatic.

“Uh, Stanford?” Mabel asks.

“That— what was that?” Stanford asks, a light sparking in his eyes.  “It’s so weird.”

He says ‘weird’ like it’s the answer to everything he’s been looking for.  Mabel raises an eyebrow.  “Usually people have a different reaction,” she says.  “I have to calm visitors down most of the time.”

“But he talks!” Stanford says, turning his wide eyes back to Mabel.  “Can I talk to him?  I have so many questions!”

“I’d be careful with that if I were you,” Mabel says.  “If you invite a gnome inside once they never leave.  As was just shown.”

“But— but—” Stanford looks so crestfallen in the next second that Mabel can’t help but wince.

“Look, bud, don’t worry about it,” she says, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table next to him.  “If you stay here even a week there’s gonna be way weirder things than that to find.”

Stanford looks up at her like she just said they’re gonna have ice cream for dinner every night.  “Really?”

Mabel chuckles.  “Tell you what,” she says.  “After I close the store this evening, we can go exploring.  I know a place nearby where we can find eye bats.  They’re one of Stanley’s favorite creatures.  He sneaks off to try to ride them when he thinks I’m not looking.”

Stanford continues to stare at her like that’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard.  “Can I bring a notebook?” he asks.  “To write down everything we see?”

Mabel can’t help but laugh and ruffle his hair.  “Sure, kiddo.  You can pick one from the store.”

Stanford grins, and Mabel smiles back.  The kid’s gonna fit right in in Gravity Falls.  It’s similar enough to someone else she knows that it makes Mabel’s heart twinge a bit, but for now she just ignores it and turns to make pancakes.  She’s got to make extra this morning, after all.

Chapter Text

“Dude,” Dan says, looking way too happy given the situation.  “I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

“Yeah, well, join the club,” Stan says, chin propped up on his hands from his spot behind the cash register.

“Aw, why do you look so bummed about it?” Maria asks, leaning the broom against the counter.  “If I found out I had a long lost twin, I’d be running home to my Abuelo with a billion questions.”

“Oh, I’ve got questions all right,” Stan grumbles.  “Why does this stranger have to stay in my room and eat all our food, being the main one.”

“Oh come on, dude,” Dan says.  “Having brothers can be fun.  Give him a shot.”

“I don’t care what brothers are like,” Stan says, rolling his eyes.  “Grauntie Mabel didn’t even ask me.  So what if he traveled across the country by himself?  How is that my problem?”

“Woah, Stan,” Dan says, crossing his arms.  “That’s pretty rude.”

“And I think it’s pretty rude to show up at a stranger’s house and expect people to take you in just ‘cause you decided to run away,” Stan says.  He slumps down onto the desk and drops his head in his arms.

“Stanley,” Maria says.

“What?  It’s not like I’ve just been sitting around waiting for a long lost twin to show up, you know.  I had summer plans too.  How am I supposed to finally catch the Gremloblin if I have to do it in between rounds of ice breakers with a weirdo—”

“Hey,” Maria snaps, loud and firm enough that Stan stops talking.  She tips her head slightly over towards the other side of the store, and when Stan looks over, Stanford’s standing there, wide-eyed with his hands clasped behind his back.

Stan winces.  Okay, he hadn’t meant for him to hear that.

“Uh,” he says, trying to come up with something to say.

But Stanford doesn’t give him the chance, just turns and runs from the store back into the house.

Dan gives him a look.  “Nice.”

Stan winces and hunches over the desk.  “I didn’t know he was standing there,” he mutters.

“Because that makes it better,” Dan says.

“Hey.  Come on, you can’t expect me to just be fine with all this right off the bat!”

“I can expect you to not badmouth someone who hasn’t done anything to you,” Dan says, crossing his arms.  “Come on, Stan.  You’re better than that.  I know you are.”

“Wh— well I— ugh!” Stan pushes himself back from the desk and storms outside, in the opposite direction from where Stanford had gone.

None of them get it.  They don’t have to give up their rooms and their food and their time.  They don’t have to deal with a stupid normie nerd who probably hates monsters, and weirdness, and everything cool.  He didn’t ask for this!

Stupid random twin brother showing up and ruining Stan’s life.

Chapter Text

“I’m gonna be honest with ya Stan, I’m not sure I get what the problem is,” Fiddleford says.  He’s sitting on the ground next to the bed fiddling with the device he’s working on.  Stan’s still not sure what it is.

“Yeah, no one does, it’s great,” Stan grumbles, from his spot lying face down on Fiddleford’s bed.

“What?  It’s hard to hear you if your face is pressed into my pillow, you know.”

Stan groans and drags his face up.  “I just don’t know how to talk to him!” he says.  “He doesn’t ever try to start conversations, and I don’t know about anything he’d want to talk about.  It’s not like he wants to hear about my in-depth plan to hunt down a monster that shows people their worst nightmares.”

“Well, come on, how do you know?” Fiddleford asks.  “Have you asked him?”

“Please.  A nerd like him?  Yeah, I’m sure he wants to spend hours talking about monsters and cryptids.  He probably only knows about boring school stuff that he learned about where he’s from.”

“Hey,” Fiddleford says, looking up at Stan and crossing his arms.  “What’s wrong with being a nerd?”

“Oh, nothing, come on Fidds,” Stan says, pushing himself up to a sitting position.  “You know I’m not talking about you.  But you’re a weird nerd.  He’s a normie.  It’s different.”

“How do you know he’s a normie if you never talk to him about it?” Fiddleford asks, turning back to his device.

“I just know, okay?  Besides, I’ve got better things to do than try and explain to a twin I didn’t ask for why monsters are cool.  Like hunting down those exact monsters.  I’ve got Gremloblin stuff going on that I can’t just put on pause.  You sure you don’t want to come to that, by the way?”

“Come find a monster who will show me my worst fear?  Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

“Your loss,” Stan says, flopping back against the bed.  “Now honestly, I didn’t come here to talk about Stanford the whole time.  What’re you workin’ on?”

“Oh, it’s that grappling hook that should finally let us ride eye bats,” Fiddleford says brightly, holding it up for Stan to see.  “The problem we’ve had is that we’re too heavy and weigh them down, right?  This should let us both ride one on each side, rather than hanging off the same side and pull them back down to the ground.  See, this part attaches to one side of the wing, this one the other, and it clasps together in the middle.”

“Awesome,” Stan calls, leaning over and turning the clasp Fiddleford is working on back and forth.  “You want to go to the cliff tonight and try it out?”

“No, I very much want to test it safely on the ground first.”

“Booo!  You’re no fun!”

Chapter Text

It’s when Stan gets upstairs and finds that Ford has moved his weird stuffed animal collection that is the absolute last straw.

“Okay, no,” Stan snaps, and Stanford immediately spins around from where he was setting a notebook on the nightstand.  It looks like one from downstairs in the craft store.

“Who said you could move my stuff?” Stan says, crossing his arms.  “That’s my nightstand.”

“Oh, uh— sorry,” Stanford says.  “It was cleared off when I put this here, so—”

“It wasn’t cleared off when you got here.  That’s my stuff!”

“Well, I thought you must have moved it—”

“That was your first mistake then, wasn’t it.”

“Hey, come on,” Stanford says, clenching his hands into fists at his sides, before seeming to catch himself and shoving them behind his back.  He still glares at Stan, though.  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“The fact that you think so is just more proof of how much you’ve done wrong!”

“What does that even mean—”

“Hey!” comes a new voice, and both of them turn around to see Grauntie Mabel standing in the doorway.

“I moved your weird stuffed animal collection, Stanley,” she says.  “Ford needs a place to put his things too.”

“But this is my room!” Stan snaps.  “He’s just taking everything—”

“That’s enough,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “Come here, young man.  We need to have a talk.”

Before Stan can protest, she takes his arm and walks him out of the room.  They make it down to the bottom of the steps before Stanley yanks his arm free.

“Let go of me,” he snaps.  Grauntie Mabel lets him move away, but turns and crosses her arms, still appearing very firm.  She moves so she’s standing in between Stan and the attic.

“Stanley Pines, I have had just about enough of this,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “Ford has not done anything to warrant this kind of treatment from you.  Why are you acting like this?  It isn’t like you.”

“I’m being the unreasonable one?” Stan says, throwing his hands up.  “You just let another kid stay here without asking me first!  And he’s in my room and he’s moving my stuff!”

“I told you, I moved your stuff,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you ahead of time.  I should have done that.  But that isn’t Ford’s fault.  And he came here because he wanted to meet you.”

“Great, he’s met me.  He can go home now.”

“Stan.”

“Why?  Why does he have to be here?  I don’t want him here!  Things were good before he showed up!”

“Things might be even better with him,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “How would you know if you don’t give him a chance?”

“You know you don’t like brussel sprouts but you said you’ve never had them!”

“That’s a vegetable, Stanley,” Grauntie Mabel says, sounding slightly exasperated.  “He’s a person.  And having a sibling can be a really amazing thing.”

“Oh, how would you know?” Stan says, crossing his arms.

Grauntie Mabel takes a deep breath.  “I think if you gave Ford a shot, you would really like him,” she says.

“I don’t want to give him a shot.”

Grauntie Mabel gives him a look.  “Why on earth not, Stan?  You want to give everyone a shot.”

“Not the stupid boring twin who my parents probably only kept because he sucks,” he snaps.

Grauntie Mabel’s eyes widen.  “Hey,” she says, though her tone softens.  “Now that’s not fair.”

“Oh, that isn’t fair?  What about them picking him over me!  How is that fair?”

Grauntie Mabel crouches down and puts a hand on his shoulder, all of the anger in her eyes replaced with concern.  “It isn’t fair, Stanley,” she says gently.  “That’s not what it’s about.”

“Well— what is it about, then?” Stan asks.  His voice cracks on the last word, and he glares down at the ground.  “Why wouldn’t they want me?  Did—” he sniffs.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Grauntie Mabel says firmly, and Stan finds himself being pulled into a tight hug.  “Sweetie, no, you did not do anything wrong, you were just a baby.”

“But then why would they keep him and not me?” Stan asks, burying his head in Grauntie Mabel’s chest.  “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, sweetheart,” Grauntie Mabel says.  “Neither of you did anything.  This is on your parents, making a really unfair and awful decision.  It is definitely not your fault, and it’s not Ford’s either.”

Stan’s breath hitches, and when Grauntie Mabel pulls him closer, he breaks, and starts crying into her shirt.  She doesn’t say anything, just holds him close and lets him.

Stan isn’t sure how long they stay there, but Grauntie Mabel doesn’t rush him at all, even though Stan’s pretty sure all the crouching isn’t good on her old lady knees.

Eventually, though, Stan pulls back, wiping at his eyes.

“Are you feeling any better?” Grauntie Mabel asks.

Stan shakes his head and sniffs.  “Not really.”

Grauntie Mabel gives him a sad smile.  “That’s okay, bud.  This stuff is real hard.  I’m sorry you got it all sprung on you.  If I’d known Ford was going to show up, I would have told you first.”

“Why do you keep callin’ him Ford?” Stan asks.  “I thought he said his name was Stanford.”

“I thought it might be easier to differentiate.  Since you’ve both got ‘Stan’ in the first part of your name.”

Stan sniffs again and looks down, fidgeting with his fingers.  “Didn’t have to do that before,” he mutters.

“True,” Grauntie Mabel agrees.  “Sometimes you have to adjust things to make room for other people.  But it’s worth it, buddy.  Can you trust me on this?”

Stan meets Grauntie Mabel’s gaze.  She definitely seems sincere.

“Grauntie Mabel?” he asks.  “Why did you want me?”

“Aw, how could I not?” Grauntie Mabel says, and before Stan can say anything, she scoops him up into her arms.  “One look at those cheeks, who wouldn’t want to pinch ‘em?”  She proceeds to do just that, and Stan squeals in protest, trying to push himself backwards off Grauntie Mabel’s face.  It just makes her laugh.

She stops after a second and gives him a warm smile.  “Listen Stanley,” she says.  “There’s not a thing you can do that would get rid of me, okay?  I’m always gonna want you around.”

“Promise?” Stan whispers.  His voice shakes more than he’d like.

Grauntie Mabel pulls him into another tight hug.  “I promise.”

…

After a little bit more time to cool off, Stan does go upstairs to apologize to Stanford— to Ford?  That does sound better.  He’s not sure what exactly he’s expecting to see when he opens the door to their bedroom, but it’s definitely not Ford putting all of his weird stuffed animals back on the nightstand, the notebook from before tossed haphazardly on the spare bed.

“Hey,” Stan says.  It comes out more awkward than he wants.

Ford turns to look at him.  “Uh— hey.  Sorry, I didn’t know how you had these set up before, but I tried to balance the weight distribution so it’s less likely they’d fall—”

Stan snorts.  “Man, you really are a nerd, huh?”

Ford fixes his glasses and doesn’t reply.

Stan sighs.  He walks over towards Ford, trailing his gaze on the ground so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes.  “Look,” he says.  “I’m sorry I’ve been kinda sucky to you.  I just— wasn’t expecting any of this.  I thought my Ma and Pa were dead.  I didn’t know I had a secret twin brother who my parents like more than me.  It just— doesn’t feel good.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Ford says quietly.  “I just learned I had a brother I never met, and I wanted to meet you.  See if you were better than what Pa said.”

Stan winces.  “Guess I messed that up,” he mutters.

There’s a pause, and Stan glances up to find Ford looking thoughtfully at him.  “What?”

Ford shakes his head.  “You didn’t mess it up,” he says.  “You said sorry.  That already makes you better than Pa.”

Stan blinks.  “That’s not a very high standard.”

Ford shrugs.

Stan doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he just keeps going with what he’d planned to say.

“So really I just meant, uh, sorry I treated you like them picking you was your fault,” he says.  “‘Cause it’s not.  Just… do you think we can try a do-over?  I promise I don’t actually think you’re a weirdo.”

Ford looks away, and Stan can’t read the expression on his face for a second.  But then his gaze turns determined, and when he turns back to Stan, he nods.  “Do-over,” he says.  “Deal.”

Stan smiles and holds out his hand for a shake.  But Ford looks at the hand like it’s going to poison him.

“Uh,” Stan pulls his hand back.  “Sorry?”

“No, I—” Ford shoves his hands behind his back, and his cheeks turn bright red.  “I don’t like handshakes.”

“Oh,” Stan says.  “Okay, no worries!  See, we’re getting to know each other already!  What do you want to do instead?”

Ford looks startled, like the question had never occurred to him.  “Uh…”

After a second, Stan can tell he’s struggling, so he waves it off.  “Well when you figure it out, let me know.  For now, let’s find a new spot for my weird stuffed animals collection.”

“Why do you call it that?” Ford asks, as they both turn back to the nightstand.

“‘Cause all of them are weird or messed up in some way!” Stan calls happily.  He grabs one and hands it to Ford.  “This is Steven, he’s a stuffed kitty who had a tear down his side when I bought him.  So I fixed him up and now he has a cool scar!”  He grabs another one and hands it over too.  “This is Eyeball.  He’s a spider where they put one eye that was different from the rest.  See, this one’s got a pupil, and none of the rest of them do.  This is Sally, she’s a crow with a cracked plastic beak.  And Grauntie Mabel helped me make this one, it’s Shmebulock, he’s my favorite gnome.  And this is my last one for now, she’s Nina the octopus!  She’s got an extra arm.  When Grauntie Mabel and I are out shopping, if I see a weird stuffed animal, she lets me buy it and add it to my collection!  Cool, huh?”  He balances the last one on top of the others in Ford’s arms.

Ford’s staring at them with an expression Stan can’t quite put a name too.  After a second, he nods.  “Cool,” he says softly.

Stan nods in approval of Ford’s approval, and then turns around, surveying the rest of the room to try and think of a better place to put it.

“You know, I think if I got Grauntie Mabel’s help we could build a cool display shelf!  We can put it above my bed, so I have easy access!  What do you think?”

When he turns back around, Ford has set all the stuffed animals down on Stan’s bed except for Nina, who he’s staring at.

Stan grins at him.  “You like Nina?”

Ford fiddles with Nina’s extra tentacle and nods.

Stan grins a little wider, walks over to Ford, and pushes Nina closer towards him.  “All yours.”

Ford looks up at him.  “What?  You don’t have to—”

“Nah, it’s okay.  Consider it part of the apology.  Just help me look for more, okay?”

Ford nods, a smile growing on his face.  “Okay,” he says.  He squeezes Nina a little tighter but doesn’t say anything else.

Chapter Text

Ford blames Bud Gleeful.  Mostly because it’s entirely his fault.

He totally understands Stan and Grauntie Mabel’s desire to go to the pool.  It’s too hot to think today.  But his whole “spend the entire summer wearing big gloves with two fingers shoved in the pinkie finger part” plan doesn’t really work if said gloves get wet.

So, Ford puts on the lightest clothes he brought with him, plus the gloves, and plans on finding a chair as firmly in the shade as he can get and drinking a bottle and a half of water every twenty minutes.

It’s fine.  He lives right next to a beach.  It’s not like he’s starving for swimming experiences.

Stan and Grauntie Mabel seem to think it’s a little weird, but they let it slide, and Ford spends the morning over on a chair with his notebook.  The ones firmly in the shade were taken, but he’s managed to find one partially in the shade, and he’s going over all the entries he’s made so far.

He’s been taking notes on the weird stuff he’s seen so far in Gravity Falls, but he doesn’t really feel like he has a good baseline.  He wishes he’d grown up here like Stanley.  Maybe he could ask him for a guide of some kind.

“Why hello, Stanley.  I thought we’ve established this is my chair.”

Ford looks up, because the voice is close enough that the person is clearly talking to him.

The kid in front of him narrows his eyes.  “You’re not Stanley.”

“Uh, no,” Ford says.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Bud,” the boy says, crossing his arms.  “The rightful owner of this chair.”

Ford blinks at him.  “But I got here first.  I’ve been here a while, actually.”

“That doesn’t matter.  The point is, Stanley and I have an agreement that I get this chair always.”

Ford looks around to see if there’s any other chairs that are more in the shade.  There aren’t.  “Well, I’m not Stanley,” he says slowly.  “You don’t have any kind of deal with me.”

Bud doesn’t seem to like that response.  Instead, he grabs at some necklace wrapped around his neck, and suddenly Ford feels himself climb out of the chair against his will.

“What the—” he starts, but before he can figure out what the heck is going on, he walks three feet forward and jumps into the deep end of the pool.

Ford swims quickly for the surface, and comes face-to-face with Bud, who’s looking over the side of the pool, while staying far enough back that Ford can’t pull him in.

“I told you, that’s my chair,” Bud says, and he walks back across the concrete and sits down in the chair.

Ford stares at him for another second, half stunned at the audacity, and half still trying to figure out how in the world he just made Ford walk over and jump in the pool.  He reaches for the wall to pull himself out, only for his gloves to slip right off the slick surface and send him tumbling back under the water.

When he surfaces again, Ford can hear Bud’s laughter, and his cheeks warm in embarrassment.  He gets his arms over the wall this time and pulls himself out using those instead, though his gloves are wet enough that they almost fall off, and wouldn’t that just be the icing on this cake.

“Can’t swim very well, can you?” Bud calls.

Ford grits his teeth and marches back over to stand right next to Bud.  “I can swim fine ,” he snaps.  “Get out of my chair.”

“You’d swim a lot better without those stupid things on,” Bud says with a mocking smile.  He reaches for his necklace again, and wait— no—

But it’s too late, Ford’s moving against his own volition again, and before he can think to try something else, he feels himself pull the gloves off and hurl them back into the pool.

Bud starts laughing behind him, and Ford does the only thing he can think of— he grabs his shirt, bunches it up over his hands, and runs for the locker room.

He finds an empty shower stall, ducks inside it and yanks the curtain closed, and presses his stupid, freakish, six-fingered hands to the side of his head.

Why does he have to be like this?

“Uh, Ford?” comes a now-familiar voice.  “You in here?  I saw you run towards the locker rooms.”

“Go away,” Ford says weakly.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” asks Stanley, and Ford hears him come to a stop outside the stall he’s in.  “You looked kinda freaked when you ran, are you okay?”

“Who’s Bud?” Ford asks instead of answering.  “And why did you make a deal with him about a public pool deck chair?”

Stan groans, loud and irritated.  “I didn’t,” he says.  “Was he being a jerk to you?”

Ford opens his mouth, but before he can answer, Stan pulls aside the shower curtain, and Ford shoves his hands down into his lap.

“Ford,” Stan says, confused.  “You’re all wet.”

“He uh—”

“He pushed you into the pool?” Stan asks, obvious anger entering his eyes.

“No!  Well, kinda?  He had this necklace thing, it was like— I don’t know,” Ford says.  He drops his head onto his knees.  “He made me throw my gloves in the pool,” he says miserably.

“He what? ” Stan says, sounding even more angry.  “Those are like, your favorite thing!”

Ford pulls his head up again, looking at Stan in confusion.  “Huh?”

“Dude, I never see you take them off!” Stan exclaims.

Ford looks down again.  “I uh,” he says.  “That’s not—”

“Hang on, I’m going to get them back,” Stan says, and before Ford can protest, he stomps out of the locker room and back towards the pool.

Ford doesn’t know quite what Stan does, but it includes a loud scream from Bud followed by a loud splash, so he has something of an idea.  Regardless, a couple minutes later, Stan shows back up in the stall, sopping wet gloves in hand.

“Here,” he says, and he hands them to Ford.  Ford doesn’t move his hands to take them, though, and after a second Stan just shrugs and sets them on the ground next to him.

“We should probably wash them before you wear them again anyway,” he says.

Ford buries his head in his knees again.

“Sorry dude,” Stan says, patting him on the shoulder.  “Bud’s always like that.”

Ford doesn’t move, and Stan must not know what to do, because after a second he picks up the gloves from the floor and starts ringing them out.  “I think they’ll be okay, though,” he says.  We just gotta wash and dry them again.”

“I don’t care about the stupid gloves, Stanley,” Ford grumbles.  “I— what if he saw?”

“Saw?” Stan asks, sounding confused.

And wow, is Ford not ready for this.  He hadn’t planned on ever needing to be ready for this.  He hadn’t planned on Stan ever learning.

But if Bud did see something, Ford wants to tell Stan himself, before he learns how much of a freak he is from someone else entirely.

So, Ford sniffs, does his best to ignore the panic in his chest, and pulls his hands out from his shirt.  He can’t quite manage to display them to Stanley, instead gripping his shirt’s hem and keeping his gaze firmly on the floor.

“Hey, what’s…” Stan trails off.  Ford waits with dread for the weirded out “um,” the “what’s wrong with your hands”, for Stanley to realize that maybe he actually doesn’t want a weird freak for a brother after all.

Instead, Stan says, “Wait.  There aren’t even enough fingers on these gloves.”

Ford turns to him in bafflement.  “What?”

“Why are they your favorite?” Stan asks, looking back at the gloves like they’re the strange thing about this situation.  “They don’t have enough fingers.”

“You are really stuck on the gloves,” Ford says weakly.

“Well why do you wear them all the time if they’re not—” Stan stops, and gives Ford a look.  “Were you… trying to hide them?”

Ford feels his cheeks warm again, and stuffs his hands back inside his shirt.

“Why?” Stan asks, sounding deeply confused.

“What do you mean why?” Ford asks, probably a bit too much irritation in his tone.  “They’re— they’re weird.”

“Well, yeah,” Stan says, and Ford ducks his head down further.  But then he adds, “What’s wrong with that?”

Ford lifts his head and stares at him.

“Weird things are the coolest,” Stan says, starting to grin.  “Or did you miss the… I don’t know, entire town?”

Ford looks down again and starts fidgeting with his extra fingers.  “That’s different.”

“Uh, no it’s not.  Dude, you’re telling me you’ve got two whole extra fingers and you’ve never told me before because you’re embarrassed?   That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!  I mean, come on, you gotta tell me if you’re this cool!”

“I— what?” Ford asks, feeling thoroughly lost in regards to how this conversation has gone.

“Wait wait wait,” Stan says, his eyes getting big.  “Do you call high fives high sixes?”

“Uh, no?”

Stan gives a little gasp that almost sounds betrayed.  “Why not?” he asks.  “The opportunity is right there!”

“I— I don’t—”

“Well we’re definitely gonna have to fix that right away.  Come on, high six!”  He holds his hand up to Ford, a bright expectant grin on his face.

Ford stares at him for another second, then slowly raises his hand and smacks it against Stan’s own.  “High… six?” he says hesitantly.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Stan says, jumping to his feet.  “Man, it’s a good thing you met me, or you’d just go on never taking advantage of the greatest opportunity ever.”

“Calling high fives something else?”

“Exactly!  I’m so glad we see eye-to-eye on this,” Stan says, nodding in approval.  He looks down at the gloves on the ground again, and something sparks in his eyes.

“Hey, can I actually hang onto these for a bit?” he asks.  “I have an idea.”

And, well, the thought of going without his gloves for longer than absolutely necessary isn’t a fun one.  But Stan’s smiling so big at him, and somehow this hasn’t ended with him being weirded out or disturbed, so maybe going without them for just a little bit longer wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

So hesitantly, Ford nods.  And when Stan lights up even more, it makes Ford start to smile too.

…

He does keep his hands tucked inside his sleeves for most of the rest of the day, but Stan must have said something to Grauntie Mabel, because she doesn’t comment at all on them during dinner.

Stan is in the craft shop for most of the evening, and he gives Ford strict instructions not to come in, so Ford spends the evening with Grauntie Mabel, who’s knitting something in her armchair while Ford writes down everything he remembers about Bud’s necklace in his notebook.

Eventually, he moves up to the attic, and it’s here where Stan finally shows up again.

“Okay!” he says, coming to a stop right in front of Ford with his hands behind his back.  “Can I see your hands please?”

Ford still feels a little uncomfortable about holding his hands out in the open, but if earlier was any indication, he doesn’t have to be worried about Stan seeing them.  So he puts them in front of him, and then Stan pulls something out from behind his back.  He’s holding the gloves from earlier, but when he slips one onto Ford’s hand, all six of his fingers find a spot to fit into.

Ford blinks as Stan slips the other one on too, and then steps back with a bright grin.  “Ta da!” he says.  “Custom made gloves!  Now you don’t have to stick two fingers in the pinky spot anymore!”

Ford flexes his fingers slightly, enjoying the way his last two don’t tense up against each other.  He shakes his head, looking back up at Stan.  “How did you do that?”

“Please, you think I can grow up with Grauntie Mabel and not know how to sew?  You’ll probably know some yourself by the time you go home,” Stan says, putting his hands on his hips.

Ford laughs a little.  “I won’t be telling that to Pa,” he says, but he’s smiling.  “I— thanks, Stanley.”

Stan beams at him.  And as he heads back over to his bed, Ford looks down at the gloves.

Maybe Stanley was on to something about them being his favorite.

Chapter Text

“Stanley?”

Despite the low volume, the fear in Ford’s voice wakes Stan up, and he jerks upright, finding him standing right at the edge of his bed.

“What?  What time is it?” Stan asks, rubbing at his eyes.  It’s light outside, but seems to be only just.

“It’s 6AM,” Ford whispers.

“And you’re awake, why?” Stan asks.

“Well— I was downstairs trying to make Grauntie Mabel some breakfast as a surprise, and— and Jeff broke in and stole her edible glitter!”

Stan snorts.  “Oh.  Yeah, he does that.  Don’t worry about it,” he says.  He moves to lay back down on the bed, but Ford grabs his arm and pulls him back up.

“You don’t understand,” he whispers.  “Grauntie Mabel was so mad at him when it happened last time!  What if she finds out it happened under my watch?”

“Uh… I don’t know how to answer that question.  She’ll buy some more edible glitter?”

“But what if she’s mad?”

“Grauntie Mabel?  You’re kidding, right?”

“We have to get it back!” Ford says.

“Woah, okay, calm down,” Stan says, holding his hands out.  And despite the fact that he really thinks Ford is making a big deal out of nothing, he looks desperate enough that after a second Stan sighs and pulls his covers back.  “Okay, let’s go find it.”

Such obvious relief enters Ford’s eyes that it makes Stan a little worried for a second, but Ford’s running across the room and grabbing his shoes before he can ask about it.

Stan groans and reaches down to fumble for his shoes.  It seems to take him a lot longer than Ford wants, judging by the way he stands nervously in front of Stan fidgeting with his gloves for the last half a minute of Stan putting his shoes on, but they get there.  Ford hurries them both downstairs and outside after that, and then starts dragging Stan off towards where he says he saw the gnome go.

Stan has more than a little experience tracking gnomes, but he doesn’t tend to do it at 6-in-the-damn-morning times, and he’s pretty sure this shows over the next half hour or so, because he’s barely awake stumbling after Ford.  He does manage to shake some awareness into his brain eventually, though, and finds that Ford seems to be doing an alright job tracking Jeff on his own— at least, if that tiny trail of glitter is anything to go by.

“Hey, when did you…” Stan yawns.  “Learn how to do this?”

“I observed the gnomes in their natural environment after Jeff stole the glitter the first time.”

“You… huh?”

“I snuck out to spy on them.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes?  How else was I supposed to learn anything?”

“I dunno, just didn’t take you for the type,” Stan mutters, trailing his eyes over the glitter on the tree to their left.  “You’re a nerdy book kid, aren’t ya?  I’m friends with one, they don’t tend to sneak out to spy on monsters.”

“Well, it sounds they’re missing valuable data then,” Ford says.  He stops.  “The trail’s gone.  Where did you see it last?”

Stan yawns again and points a thumb at the tree behind them.  Ford looks back at it too, then runs towards it.

Stan follows just in time to see Ford run his fingers over the glitter and mutter, “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Stan asks.  He leans back against the tree, only to immediately lean forward again when he hears an audible clang.

There’s a loud familiar shout from what sounds like inside the tree.

“Jeff!” Stan snaps.  “I know you’re— in there?  Where are you?”

“Nowhere!” comes Jeff’s very recognizable voice.

Stan and Ford exchange a deadpan look, and then Stan runs his hand along the tree.  When his hand slips over a gap that shouldn’t be there, he pulls, and a section of metal tree opens to reveal Jeff, sitting on top of a weird metal box and holding the jar of edible glitter close to his chest.

“Ah!  I’m not here!” he yells, and starts to leap away.  But Stan has tangled with far too many gnomes in his life, and reaches out and catches Jeff by the scruff of the neck.

Ford gives him a grateful grin and grabs the glitter from Jeff, who cries out in despair and continues to squirm towards it.

“Give it back!  That blue bake off ribbon will be mine!”

Stan grins at Ford.  “You want to do the honors?” he asks.

Ford blinks.  “What?”

“Nah?  Next time then,” Stan says, and before Jeff can call for help, Stan drop kicks him hard into the woods.

Ford barks out a laugh and puts his hands over his mouth.  Stan grins at him for a second before turning back to the opening in the tree.

“Now what the heck is this?” he asks, gesturing at the metal science-looking box.

“You don’t know?” Ford asks, stepping forward next to him.

“Nope.  I’ve never seen this thing before.  What do you think it does?”

Ford shrugs.  “Only one way to find out.”  He reaches forward and flicks both of the switches on top.  As soon as he flicks the second one, though, there’s a loud whirring, and both of them turn to see a different patch of ground open up.

They turn to each other for a moment with an excited grin, and then rush forward to peer down into the hole to find—

“A book?” Stan groans.

“An old book!” Ford exclaims, sounding ecstatic.  He bends down and pulls it out, then blows the dust off the cover.

The book sure does look old, alright.  It’s torn and the blue cover is faded.  On the front is a golden pine tree with the number 3 on it, but it’s started to chip off at the edges.

Stan kneels down next to Ford as he pulls it open, because he’s admittedly a little curious, even if a book is a lame prize for the end of a gnome hunt.

“‘It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon,’” Ford reads from the first page.

“Wait, what?” Stan asks, leaning closer.  Ford turns the page, and to Stan’s shock, reveals pages on eye bats, gnomes, and all kinds of other monsters, some of which Stan had seen and fought, and some of which he hadn’t.

“It’s like, notes on everything weird Grauntie Mabel said I’d find in the town,” Ford breathes.

“Woah,” Stan breathes.  “That’s so—”

“Cool!” he and Ford both say at the same time.

Stan turns to him in surprise.  “Wait, really?”

“Yeah!” Ford exclaims, turning to him with a huge grin.  “I’ve been wondering if anyone else has ever wanted to study the monsters around here!  This is awesome, I can have other observations to compare my own with!”

“Your own?” Stan asks, eyes widening.  “Like, you’ve been looking for monsters on purpose?”

“Duh!  Are you kidding, I’ve never seen this much weird stuff in one place before, it’s amazing!  I feel like I finally fit in somewhere!  I’ve been meaning to ask you if you had a guide of some kind, just cause Maria told me I shouldn’t really go looking for monsters without any kind of background knowledge, but now this can—”

“Dude,” Stan grabs Ford by the shoulders and shakes him back and forth a couple times.  “Ford.  Dude.  Bro.  You have to tell me these things!”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“Dude, I’ve been looking for monsters since I was a little kid!” Stan says, bouncing a bit on his feet.  “I thought you were a boring nerd who wouldn’t want to go anywhere near them at first, and you know, then I didn’t want to freak you out!  You’re telling me we could have been going on sick monster hunts together this whole time?”

“You… you want to find monsters together?” Ford asks, looking like Stan’s just presented him the meaning to life on a silver platter.

“I’ve been looking for someone who wants to find the Gremloblin with me all summer!” Stan exclaims, throwing his hands out in excitement.  “You want to go find a monster that shows people their worst fears with me?”

“That. Sounds. Amazing!” Ford cries, leaning right into Stan’s face with a huge grin.  “When do we go, where is it?”

“Breakfast first!” Stan calls happily, grabbing Ford’s arm to start pulling them both back towards the house, after giving Ford just enough time to tuck the journal into his jacket.  “Trust me, you do not want to monster hunt on an empty stomach.  Oh this is gonna be the coolest!”

That plan is put on pause as soon as they both get back, however, and find Grauntie Mabel sitting on the porch looking very unhappy with them.

Oh.  Right.

“Hi there,” she says, crossing her arms.  “Do you want to explain why you two snuck out of the house before I was even awake?”

“Uh,” Ford says, with obvious fear in his voice.

And really, he’s overreacting a bit, and that’s not gonna do.  If they’re gonna start going on monster hunts together, Ford needs to know he can go to Grauntie Mabel if they get in over their head.

So, Stan takes a step forward and says, “I saw your edible glitter get stolen, Grauntie Mabel,” gesturing at the glitter Ford’s still got clutched in his hand.  “I wanted to show Ford how monster hunts go around here, cause he said he wants to do some with me!  Isn’t that cool?  I thought gnomes would be a good first option, but I kinda forgot to let you know.  Sorry.”

Grauntie Mabel sighs, but seems considerably less irritated, which thankfully makes Ford seem considerably less scared.  “Alright, but let me know next time, you hear?  I need to know if you two are in danger and I need to come save your butts.”

“Will do, sorry Grauntie Mabel!” Stan calls.  He lets Ford give her the glitter back, which Grauntie Mabel gives him a grateful smile for, and then grabs his arm again to pull them both up to the attic.

“Dude, you seriously need to chill around Grauntie Mabel,” he says, turning to Ford as soon as they get there.  Ford blinks at him.  “She’s not gonna get mad at you for stupid little stuff.  And we’re gonna need her help sometimes if we get into trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Ford asks, looking baffled at the idea.  “Parents aren’t for helping you out of trouble, they’re for yelling at you if you get caught doing something you’re not supposed to.”

Stan wrinkles his nose.  “Ugh.  Well, good thing she’s a Grauntie, then.  Because that’s not what Graunties are for.  I can always count on her if I need help.  And she like, seriously loves you, which means you definitely can too.”

Ford still doesn’t seem to know what to do with that.  “I… that’s weird.”

“Yeah, but weird is cool, remember?” Stan says, grinning at him.  “That’s what the gloves mean.”

Ford looks down at his gloves and flexes his fingers a couple times.  Then, after a second, he starts to smile, and looks back up at Stan.  “Okay,” he says.  “If you say so.”

“I totally do.  Now come on.  Let’s go convince Grauntie Mabel to add edible glitter to our breakfast!  We earned it after getting it back for her.”

He turns to start for the kitchen, only for Ford to stop him by grabbing his arm.

“Hey, uh, thanks,” he says, and Stan turns back around.  “You know, for getting up and doing all this with me when you didn’t have to.  I’ve never had a partner in crime before.”

“Ooh, partner in crime, I like the sound of that,” Stan says with a grin.  He holds his hand up to Ford.  “High six?”

Ford grins back and smacks his hand.  “High six.”

Chapter Text

Stan is trying to talk to Ford about his best friend, and doesn’t seem to take the hint that he needs to drop it, like seriously.  Maybe Stan has the best of intentions, but whoever this Fiddleford is, meeting him isn’t going to end well.  Stan had already told him that he doesn’t like monsters and weirdness as much as they both do, meaning that the weird cheat code that allowed Stan to be okay with Ford’s freakishness isn’t going to apply here.

And it’s not like he blames Stan for not getting that.  But there’s only so many times Ford can change the subject to something innocuous before it starts to become obvious that’s what he’s doing.  He’s going to have to come up with some way to bite the bullet and explain to Stan that he’s going to just stay away from his friends, for all of their sakes.

Unfortunately, before he can work up the courage to do that, Stan makes a move he hadn’t been expecting.  He’s been put in charge of working the register for the morning, and they’d run out of streamers.  So he heads off to find Grauntie Mabel and let her know, and instead finds the very reason that they’ve run out of streamers, when he finds Stan and Grauntie Mabel setting up some kind of party in the backyard.

“Uh,” Ford says, and they both immediately whirl to face him.  “Is it somebody’s birthday?”

“Dang it,” Stan snaps, stomping his foot.  “We were so close.”

“What?  Sorry?”

“No, you just weren’t supposed to see it until we finished setting it up,” Stan says with a sigh of disappointment.  After a second, however he pops right back up again.  “But we set up a party so you can meet Fiddleford and you two can bond and stuff!”

“You— you what?”

“Well you keep avoiding the topic every time I try to talk to you about it,” Stan says.  “And you have to meet him sometime.”

“No, I do not!  I shouldn’t!”

“Hey, bud, it doesn’t have to be a scary thing,” Grauntie Mabel says, giving him a concerned frown.  “And we’ve set up some things you two are gonna have in common.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a ‘Pin the Head on the Multibear’ game for you,” Stan says with a bright smile, gesturing over to where a display is set up with what looks like a cardboard body of a bear, with far too many heads next to it.  “And then every time you get one in the right place you get to practice shooting Fiddleford’s new dart gun!  That part’s for Fidds.  And we get to shoot at Waddles!”

“No you don’t,” Grauntie Mabel says instantly, and Stan huffs in irritation but seems to accept that answer pretty instantly too.

“We’re gonna make your favorite desserts.  Fidds is apple pie, and I guess it’s probably a good thing that you found us ‘cause I don’t actually know what yours is—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ford says firmly.  “I am not going.”

“Ford,” Stan groans, looking up at the sky in obvious exasperation.  “Fiddleford wants to meet you.”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants!   That doesn’t mean he’s going to like me!”

Stan exchanges a confused look with Grauntie Mabel, the latter of whom then turns back to Ford.

“I guess that’s true,” she says, taking a couple steps towards the porch.  “But buddy, Fiddleford has been Stan’s friend for a long time.”

“Yeah,” Ford snaps.  “That’s the point.”

“What’s the point?” Stan asks.  “She means he’s gonna want to like you.”

“He won’t,” Ford says.  “It doesn’t matter what he wants, he won’t like me.  And then you’re gonna feel awkward and like you have to make a choice between us, and he’s been around for a while so you’re obviously going to choose him, and I don’t want to make you do that anyway!  Seriously, just— just call this off.  I won’t ever get in your guys’ way, you can just hang out with him without me.”

Stan stares at him for a second.  “Uh, Ford,” he says, “I don’t think Fidds has ever disliked someone in his life.  Well, except for Preston Northwest and Bud Gleeful.  But there was a reason for that.  Plus, those guys are jerks.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Ford says.  “Or, second time.”

“Hey,” Grauntie Mabel says gently.  She gestures at the couch on the back porch.  “Come sit.”

Ford walks hesitantly over to the couch, and sits down just before Grauntie Mabel joins him on the other cushion.  Stan hops up on the arm next to her.

“Why are you so sure that Fiddleford isn’t going to like you?” Grauntie Mabel asks.  She’s looking at him with genuine concern, but it just makes Ford’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment.  He looks away.

“Because no one does,” he manages.  “I’m the freak with the extra fingers, or the weirdo who doesn’t understand people, or at best the freak with extra fingers that someone pretends to like so they can pull a hilarious practical joke when they reveal they don’t actually, and they just knew I wouldn’t pick up on it because I’m the weirdo who doesn’t understand people.”

“Are you serious?” Stan exclaims, and there’s such obvious fury in his voice that Ford turns back to face him.  There’s obvious fury on his face, too.

And to Ford’s surprise, there’s quite a bit of anger on Grauntie Mabel’s face too, though she seems like she’s trying to keep it more under control.

“Why do you guys look like that?” Ford asks, baffled.

“Why— what do you mean — who does that?” Stan snaps, throwing his hands up in the air.  “That’s not funny!”

“Ford,” Grauntie Mabel says, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on his arm.  “Do you not have any friends back home?”

Ford shakes his head.

“Okay,” Grauntie Mabel says, though it doesn’t sound like she thinks it is.  “Well, buddy, Fiddleford isn’t like that.  I’ve known him almost as long as Stan has.  He wouldn’t do something like that.”

“He wants to like you,” Stan says.  “Because I like you.  And he knows I want him to like you too.”

“But you said he doesn’t like monster stuff,” Ford says.

“So?  He’s still a bonafide weirdo.  As if I’d be friends with anyone who wasn’t.  The normies couldn’t handle me,” Stan says, crossing his arms with a grin.

Ford looks down and fidgets with his extra fingers.

“Ford,” Grauntie Mabel says, nudging him gently in the side.  “I do think meeting Fiddleford would be a good idea.  Is there a way we could help you feel more comfortable with this?”

Ford squeezes his hands together.  “Can I bring Nina?” he asks quietly.

He sees Grauntie Mabel nod out of the corner of her eye.  “Of course.”

“He knows Nina,” Stan says.  “He probably won’t comment on her, if you’re worried about it.  At least not negatively.”

That doesn’t exactly help Ford calm down, but he nods anyway.  He still feels like this whole thing is going to go up in flames when he actually meets Fiddleford, but… he can give it a shot, he supposes.

…

Fiddleford arrives shortly after lunch, just as Grauntie Mabel is carrying out both the apple pie and the brownies that Ford asked for.  Ford is sitting on the back porch couch, clutching Nina close and fiddling with her extra tentacle.  He’s still very unsure about this, but he’s doing it.

He sees a car pull up, and Stan jogs over immediately, meaning it must be him.  A kid with light brown hair, glasses, and a dart gun climbs out and waves at whoever’s in the front seat, who waves back with a smile, says something that sounds like a pick up time, and then turns to drive off.

Ford squeezes Nina tighter against his chest as both the new kid and Stan turn back to face him.  Stan starts over along with him, which helps the nerves in Ford’s chest just a little.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Grauntie Mabel set the desserts down on the table and give him a thumbs up.

“Ford,” Stan says, as they both walk up the steps and stop in front of the couch.  “This is Fiddleford.  Fiddleford, this is Ford.”

Fiddleford beams at him.  “I’ve heard so much about you!” he calls, and Ford takes a moment to adjust to the southern accent he was not expecting.  “I bet you weren’t expecting to be here a couple months ago.”

Ford laughs a little, though he’s pretty sure the nerves in his voice are obvious.

“Uh, no,” he admits, tugging gently on Nina’s tentacle.  “For a couple reasons, actually.”

“I’ll bet,” Fiddleford says, plopping down on the couch next to him  He sets his dart gun to the side.  “Stan tells me you like the monsters in this town, though.  Do you have a favorite?”

“How should I know?” Ford says, glancing down at Nina.  “I haven’t met all of them yet.”

Fiddleford laughs, and Ford tenses, his shoulders hunching up around his ears.  But instead of something mocking or insulting, Fiddleford says, “I suppose that’s fair.  It took Stanley a while to decide his favorite is the Hawktopus.”

Ford’s confused enough by that to look back up.  “The what?”

“The Hawktopus,” Stan butts in, a bright grin suddenly on his face.  “It’s half hawk, half octopus!  I’ve seen it flying through the woods and swimming in the lake.”

“You— huh?  That— that’s stupid,” Ford says.  “Why does that exist?  How does it survive, the hawk would need consistent air and the octopus would need consistent water.  That—” he stops.  “Uh— I mean, I—”

Before he can panic, however, Fiddleford just starts laughing.  Stan looks slightly offended and crosses his arms, but Fiddleford just grins back up at him a second later.

“Ha!” he says, putting his hands on his hips as if this is a grand victory.  “See?  I was right, and you’re the only one who thinks that isn’t stupid.”

“Oh, come on!  This is Gravity Falls we’re talking about!  You want to see stupid, you can look at any gnome who likes to run around here!  Why is the Hawktopus automatically the dumbest thing anyone’s ever heard of?”

“I mean, there has to be a line somewhere,” Ford mutters, hesitantly, lest the two of them start getting offended in a way that actually makes them mad.

“Agreed,” Fiddleford says, nodding up at Stan in a very final manner.  Stan huffs and storms off towards Grauntie Mabel, muttering something about cutting up the pie and brownies for the two traitors.

Fiddleford snickers as he watches him go, and then turns to Ford with a bright smile that Ford feels able to return a little easier.  He squeezes Nina tightly.

“Well thank you for helping to settle that debate,” he says.  He waits long enough that Ford realizes he’s supposed to say something  in response.

“Uh, no problem?” he says, cringing a moment later at how awkward and unsure he sounds.

Fiddleford’s smile just widens further though, and he folds his hands together in his lap as he turns to face Ford.

Ford immediately drops Nina to his lap and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I remember the first time I saw this place’s weirdness,” he says.  “It was just before I met Stanley, actually.”

“You didn’t grow up here?” Ford asks.

“You think I got this accent in Oregon?” Fiddleford asks, and Ford smiles a little.

“Nah, I moved here about two years ago,” Fiddleford continues.  “So if you ever need to talk about weirdness to someone who hasn’t lived here his whole life, I can help you out.”

“So you… don’t like Gravity Falls’ weirdness,” Ford asks, clenching his hands together tightly in his pockets.  Stan had told him that, but hearing Stan say it and hearing Fiddleford agree to it are two different things.

“I mean, not particularly,” Fiddleford says with a shrug.  “Stan’s the monster hunter, not me.  But it’s a part of life here, you get fairly used to it pretty quickly.”

“Yeah,” Ford mutters, looking down.

“That’s how I met Stan, you know.  He saved my lunch from a gnome.”

“So that’s how you became friends?” Ford asks, trying to just keep the conversation going until Stan or Grauntie Mabel shows up and he can get out of here.

“Well, no.  That came later.  Stan was pretty out of my league at the time, friendship-wise.”

“Huh?” Ford asks, glancing back up despite himself.  “What do you mean?”

“Stan was pretty popular growing up,” Fiddleford says with a shrug.  “He made friends pretty easy wherever he went.  When I first met him, he was friends with the likes of Bud Gleeful and Preston Northwest.”

“He was?” Ford asks, more than a little surprised.  With the way Stan treated Bud before, and how he talked about them both when he mentioned him earlier, they didn’t strike him as people Stan had good opinions of.

“Heh, yeah,” Fiddleford says, suddenly looking a little unsure.

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Ford admits, looking back over at Stan, who’s dragging Waddles away from the brownies while Grauntie Mabel’s taking both desserts and holding them up above the point Waddles can reach them.  “Why isn’t he anymore?”

“Oh, uh, well that’s… kinda my fault.”

Ford looks back over at Fiddleford.  “What?  It is?”

“Yeah,” Fiddleford says, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Bud and Preston aren’t exactly the nicest, you know?”

Ford hasn’t met Preston, but he wrinkles his nose as he thinks back on his first interaction with Bud.  “I know.”

“Yeah.  Well, a country boy from Tennessee who’s scared of most of the monsters around, even tamer ones, makes for a pretty easy target.  Stan was never around when they were, well, you know, but I kinda assumed he knew what was goin’ on anyway.  He… didn’t, though.  Didn’t like it very much when he found out, either.”

That, Ford has an easier time picturing.  But though there’s clearly more to the story, Fiddleford doesn’t say anything else, and Ford’s not going to push him.

“Wait, so you… you felt bad that he picked you over them,” Ford realizes, eyes widening slightly.

“Well, yeah.  Wouldn’t you?”

Ford looks back over at Stan, who’s now successfully gotten Waddles to sit still by giving him a bowl of leftover apple peels, that must have been from the pie.  He’s petting Waddles on the head, looking fond but exasperated.

“Yeah,” Ford says, without looking away.  “But I think Stan probably made his own choice, there.”

Fiddleford sighs.  “I reckon you’re right,” he says.  “It’s in the past now anyway.”

Ford looks down at his pockets, and slowly unclenches his fists.  “Maybe,” he agrees.  “But I get it.”

Fiddleford gives him a curious look.  “What do you mean?”

Ford pulls his hands out of his pockets and wraps them around Nina, trying to stop them from shaking.  “Nothing,” he says.  “Just… I’m not too used to having friends either.”

When he looks back at Fiddleford, he finds Fiddleford still looking at his face, not paying any attention to his hands.

“Well,” Fiddleford says.  “We can always be outcasts together.”

Ford smiles despite himself.  “I’d like that,” he says.

Fiddleford sticks his hand out, and Ford bites his lip hard as he reaches out and shakes it.

Fiddleford’s smile doesn’t change at all.

Chapter Text

Mabel looks at the phone up with dread curling in her stomach.  She knows what Filbrick’s going to say when she explains what happened, and she knows that he’s never going to allow Ford to come here again, even if the situation with Bud owning the house gets sorted out.

She looks over towards the living room, where Stan and Ford are pouring over a book laid out on the floor, clearly shooting ideas back and forth.  Maria is next to them adding in commentary.  Mabel’s not sure what they’re talking about, but they seem at least somewhat optimistic.  She sighs as she walks into the other room.

“Kids,” she says.  “I’ve got some bad news.”

Both of them and Maria all look up at her, worry immediately slipping into their faces.

“What is it?” Ford asks.  “Is Bud doing something even worse?  ‘Cause if that’s it, you don’t have to worry!  We have a plan!”

“Yeah, we’re gonna get Fiddleford to build a giant robot!” Stan calls, throwing his hands up.  “And it’ll be shaped like Bud to throw suspicion off, and—”

“Guys,” Mabel cuts them off, before they can run away with ideas.  “Listen.  I— I’m sending Ford home.”

“What?” all three of them exclaim, including Maria, who looks just as horrified as the boys.

“When I said you could stay here for the summer, it was because I knew I wouldn’t have any problems taking care of you,” Mabel says, rubbing the back of her neck.  “But that’s changed.  I don’t have a house or a job anymore.  And we can’t all stay here with Maria’s abuelo forever.”

“But— but that’s not fair!” Ford says, and the desperation in his voice makes Mabel look away.  “That’s not— Stanley’s staying!”

“Stanley doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Mabel says, squeezing her eyes shut.  “Believe me, if I could send him with you, I would.”

“But— but we’re just getting to know each other!” Stan yells, his footsteps pounding closer, and Mabel feels him grab her hand.  She looks back at him.  He’s doing his puppy dog eyes, though there’s a note of fear in them Mabel doesn’t see when he just wants an extra dessert.  “Please, you can’t split us up already!”

“Kids, please,” Mabel says weakly, pulling her hand away.  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.  He’s not going anywhere until the end of the week, so you have a few days to say goodbye.”  She turns and walks into the other room before either of them can argue.

In reality, she’d planned on Ford leaving the next day when she’d walked in there, but she— god, she’d been right.  That kid has been the death of her.  She’ll have to ask Soos if Ford can stay a couple extra days more than they talked about.

If she thought she could convince Filbrick to take both of them, she would.  She’d endure all of his smug self-righteous tones about how she’d been wrong when she said she could do this, if it meant Stan and Ford didn’t have to keep growing up without each other.

But Filbrick won’t take Stan too.  He’d made that clear 12 years ago.  And she doesn’t think there’s much she can say to change his mind now.

Mabel sits down at the kitchen table, but before she can have even a moment to herself, Stan runs into the room and plants his feet in front of her.

“I’m going back with Ford for the summer,” he says.

Mabel sighs, exhausted, and turns to face him.  “You can’t.”

“Then Ford’s staying here.”

“No.   It’s going to be hard enough to figure out what the two of us are going to do.”

“We’re getting our house back is what we’re going to do!” Stan exclaims, slamming his hands down on the table.  “That’s our home!   You can’t just let Bud keep our home!”

“I don’t see a way to get it back,” Mabel says, trying to sound firm.  “I’m sorry, Stan.”

“No you’re not!  If you were sorry you’d be trying everything you can to keep Ford here, and I wouldn’t have to lose him!”

“I have tried,” Mabel says, standing up and crossing her arms down at Stan.

“No you haven’t!   If you had then he’d be staying here!”

“Life doesn’t work that way, Stan.”

“Why not?”

“Dammit Stanley, because you’re a Pines twin, and they don’t get to spend life together!” Mabel snaps.

Stan reels back, and blinks quickly, and then wipes at his eyes.

Mabel’s stomach drops.  “No, Stan, I— I’m sorry,” she says, kneeling down and pulling him into a hug.  Stan grabs onto her tightly.

“Because sometimes life isn’t fair, Stan,” Mabel says quietly.  “And that’s just how it goes.”

Stan sniffs, and Mabel pulls him closer.

“I didn’t even know I had a brother two months ago,” Stan whispers.  “He’s not even gone yet.  Why am I already missing him?  How is that fair?”

Mabel rubs her hand along Stan’s back.  “You know kiddo, when you’re eighteen and adults, you get to make your own decisions,” she says.  “Filbrick can’t keep you apart then no matter how much he wants to.”

“But that’s not for forever,” Stan says.  “I wanna know him now.”

Mabel almost laughs for a second, almost says Kid, I could tell you some things about forever.

Instead, she just holds Stan a little tighter and says, “I know.”

Chapter Text

Mabel had planned on spending the night they got back going over absolutely everything in the portal room to make sure Bud didn’t find anything, while trying not to freak out over the fact that she has all three journals.

And she definitely will still do all of that, but it seems it’s going to have to wait at least a little, because as soon as they arrive, she gets tackled into a hug by Stan and Ford.

“Alright alright, come on goofballs,” Mabel says, pulling herself out of the hug with a fond smile.  “I’m glad to be home too.”

“Man, I missed it,” Stan says.  He runs and takes a flying leap onto the arm chair, and settles in with a contented sigh.

“Hey, that’s for Graunties,” Mabel says, reaching down and picking him up before setting him down on the floor.  Stan gives a huff of complaint, but it doesn’t seem much can keep his good mood down right now, because he starts grinning not even a second later.

“Hey Grauntie Mabel,” Ford says, walking up next to Stan.  “Did we tell you we solved our problem?”

“Oh yeah? Which one is that?” Mabel asks, taking a seat in the chair.

“We’re gonna develop a secret code over the rest of the summer,” Ford says.  “So that way when I have to go home, Stan can send me letters, and Pa won’t throw them out right away ‘cause he won’t know who they’re from!”

“That’s great,” Mabel says with a smile.  “But you know, now that we have the house back, I can also just let Stan call you on the landline.”

“But that doesn’t require a secret code,” Stan says, crossing his arms.

“Well whoever said you can’t do both?” Mabel says.  “But I’m glad you’re working stuff out.  I’ll make sure to help you keep in touch any way I can, okay?”

Stan runs forward at that and throws his arms around her, and Mabel squeezes him back tightly.

“You’re the best, Grauntie Mabel,” Stan says.

“Oh yes, I know,” Mabel says, injecting enough teasing into her voice that Stan knows to laugh.

Mabel glances over at Ford, who’s standing in the back with a small smile, and holds out her hand.

Ford’s eyes widen in surprise, but after a second he slowly walks forward.  And well, that’s just too hesitant for Mabel’s taste, so as soon as he gets close enough she scoops him into the hug, and then both Ford and Stan start laughing.

“I love you two dorks,” Mabel says.

“Love you too, Grauntie Mabel,” Stan says easily.  And though Ford just gives her a warm smile, Mabel gets the message.

Chapter Text

“Preston?  Preston!” Ford yells, pushing his way around the various paintings, statues, and other memorabilia sitting in the Northwest’s hidden room.  Preston is sitting with his back to a box, flicking on and off a flashlight.

“Preston, come on, I need your help!” Ford says, running to a stop in front of him and crouching down.  “The ghost is turning everyone to wood, and he just started rhyming, which can’t be good, but if a Northwest—”

Ford reaches out to grab Preston’s hand, but Preston yanks it away first.

“Preston, come on!” Ford begs.  “Stanley’s out there, I need your help!”

“Do you want to know why this room was hidden?” Preston asks, ignoring Ford’s statements.  He shines the flashlight in front of them.

“This is what I found in here,” Preston says.  “A painted record of every horrible thing my family has ever done.  Lying, and cheating, and pressuring people… we’ve bullied our way to the top from the start.  That’s all we are, and I’m no different.  I’ve picked on you since I met you, and I ruined my friendship with Stanley because I wouldn’t stop picking on Fiddleford.  And tonight I just lied to you because I was too scared to face my parents about everything awful we’ve done.  Stanley was right about me.  I’m just a bully, just like my parents, and that’s all I’m ever going to be.”

“I—” Ford reaches out a hand, and this time he pushes forward until he can put it on Preston’s shoulder, drawing his gaze.

“Preston, that’s not true,” Ford says.  “You don’t have to be like your parents.  I— you can be different from them.  You can.   I know, because there’s no way I’m letting myself turn out like my dad.  And I’m sure Stanley would give you a second chance too.  You just have to prove you want to try for one.”  He pulls back slightly, but only to hold out his hand.  “Come on.  It’s not too late.”

Preston looks at Ford’s hand for a second, and when he looks up and sees Ford’s determined gaze, he takes it, six fingers and all.

…

“Hey, by the way,” Stan says, later that night after they’ve gone home, and Grauntie Mabel has sent them up to their room.  “How did you get Preston to agree to let the riffraff in?  I didn’t think he was capable of something like that.”

“Oh, you know, totally normal power of friendship stuff,” Ford says, trying not to make it too obvious that he immediately grabs Nina.  “Talking about how we both kind of don’t like our dads and we don’t want to be like them.”

Stan turns to him, wide-eyed.  “Woah.”

“It’s nothing,” Ford mutters, because it is, and he doesn’t know why Stan is reacting like that’s a huge deal.

“Anyway, I uh, I think he kinda misses you,” Ford says, looking down at Nina so he doesn’t have to meet Stan’s eyes.  “And maybe he wants to make up for what happened between you guys.”

Stan’s gaze hardens.  “He can start with an apology to Fiddleford, then.”

“No, really,” Ford says.

“Yeah, really,” Stan says.  “He never did anything to me.   I—” he sighs.  “I’m not saying I wouldn’t give him another shot.  People can earn those,” he mutters.  “But he has to apologize to Fiddleford first.”

Ford nods.  “Okay,” he says softly.

There’s a moment of quiet.

“Ford,” Stan says suddenly.  “Why don’t you like your Pa?”

Ford stares at Stan.  “Why do you think, Stanley?”

Stan’s eyes widen.  “Me?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Ford, don’t— don’t judge him based just on that,” Stan says, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.

I’m not, Ford wants to say, but then Stan keeps going.

“I wouldn’t want you to have a bad relationship with your dad just because of me.”

“I don’t,” Ford says weakly, struggling to figure out how to explain.  “I— he’s— he’s Pa.”

“What does that mean?”

Ford looks down at Nina, squeezes her close to his chest.  He doesn’t know how to explain the way he walks on eggshells in every conversation he has with his Pa, how his Ma never stands up to him, how Sherman always seems to put himself between Ford and Pa whenever they’re all in the room together, how weird it is that Grauntie Mabel is there to help them because that’s not what parents are for, and he doesn’t care what Stan says, it’s not just because she’s a Grauntie, it’s something else.

“Look, Ford, really,” Stan says, sounding almost guilty.  “Don’t think bad about him just because of me.  I like my life here.  Yeah, I wish I got to know you growing up, but I wouldn’t have Grauntie Mabel if I didn’t grow up here.  And— and it’s not like I’m saying I don’t really wish we could have grown up together, I just— I just wish it could have been here, because I like being here, and— and I’m not explaining this well.  Look, just— don’t be mad at your Pa for my sake, okay?  I don’t want to mess up your relationship like that.  I can be mad for me.  You don’t need to do it.”

And well, that’s not the point at all, but Ford thinks it would all come out wrong if he tries to tell Stan that right now.

So he just squeezes Nina tighter and whispers, “Okay.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, Mabel, here’s the deal,” Dipper says, and Mabel can tell by his tone that she’s about to get news she doesn’t like.  “You can stay here in the house until the end of the summer.  But once that’s over, I get my house back, my life back, and we’re done with this craft store nonsense.  Understand?”

And the thing is, if it had been just her, Mabel probably would have agreed.  She would have snapped at Dipper and stormed off in a rage, but she would have agreed deep down.  Dipper, if anything, has earned the right to kick her out if he wants to.

But it’s not just her.  Mabel has other people to think about.  And she’s not sure she’ll ever get the image of Stanley saying “I don’t even know if you’re my Grauntie” out of her head.  She can’t leave that kid any more uncertain of his future than he already has to be.

So, she squares her shoulders, turns to face Dipper, and says, “No.”

Dipper does not seem to like that answer.

“Mabel,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“Dipper, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of raising a kid here,” Mabel says.  “Stanford may be here just for the summer, but Stanley has to go back to school in the fall.  He has friends and an established presence and a life in this house, and in this town.  I’m not going to make him pack up and move somewhere else.  I don’t even know where we’d go.   This is our home.”

“You’re… raising Stanley here?” Dipper asks, actually sounding surprised.  Mabel supposes that’s fair.  It didn’t come up in depth when they explained everything downstairs.

“His father wouldn’t take him,” Mabel says quietly, and Dipper’s eyes widen.  “And I’m not going to make him leave, and… I’m not going to abandon him.”

Dipper doesn’t seem to like that last comment, which is… also fair.

“We can work something out,” Mabel says before Dipper can snap at her again.  “I’m not going to make you stay in the basement forever.  But Stanley and I live here.  It’d be one thing if it was just me, but he’s a 12 year old kid.  I’m sorry, but we’re not leaving.  We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

And with that, she turns and walks off.  Knowing Dipper (and she hopes at least that she still does), he’s going to need time to cool down, and Mabel doesn’t want to start a screaming match the kids could hear.

She makes it up to her room before all of the tension rushes out of her, and she sits down on her bed, putting her head in her hands.

She hears a familiar oink from nearby, and then Waddles walks over and nudges her legs with his head.

“Hey there, good pig,” Mabel says with a sad smile, reaching down to scratch the space between his ears.  “You always know when I need cheering up, huh?”

Waddles oinks again and lifts his head into her lap.  Mabel smiles at him.

A knock comes on the door, much too quiet to be Dipper’s.  Mabel glances up.  “Come in,” she calls.

The door opens, and Stanley’s standing there, wringing his hands together.

“Hey, buddy,” Mabel says with a smile.  She opens her arms for a hug, and Stanley immediately rushes forward into them.

“I know things got a little nuts there,” Mabel says, squeezing Stanley tight.  “But thank you for trusting me.”

“Can I sleep here with you tonight?” Stanley whispers.

“Absolutely,” Mabel says.  She climbs up into the bed, and is followed by Stanley and Waddles, the last of whom is definitely too big to be sleeping on the bed, but that Mabel doesn’t have the heart to kick off.

“So, before anything else happens, are there more secret twin brothers that I should know about?” Stan asks.  Mabel can recognize the fragility still in his tone, though he’s clearly trying to joke.

“Nope, just the two,” Mabel says, deciding to help him out.  “Unless Dan has something he’s not telling us.”

Stan smiles weakly and burrows himself closer against Mabel’s chest.  “Can we be done with secrets now?” he whispers.

Mabel hugs him tightly.  “Yes,” she says.  “No more huge bombshells from me, I promise.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“S’okay,” Stan says.  “I get why you didn’t.  It was big and scary, just like everything with Ford.”

Mabel lets out a shaky sigh.  “What did I do to get such an understanding kid?” she asks.  She leans over and kisses the top of Stan’s hair.

“Your fault, you raised me,” Stan says, smiling up at her with only slightly wet eyes.

Mabel laughs a little.  “I’ll take credit for that,” she jokes, and Stan laughs too.

And even though Mabel can tell they both still feel a little fragile, Stan still holds her tightly as they fall asleep, and Mabel does so reflecting on how proud she can be of her pig and her boy.

Chapter Text

It’s early in the summer when Mabel wakes up in the portal room to see a kid on the front door camera.

She figures at first that it’s a kid from town who’s gotten lost, or maybe someone that’s arrived early in the morning (7:00 early?  She doesn’t open until 9), whose parents are right behind him.

Either way, she heads quickly upstairs, where as soon as she shuts the vending machine she can hear the frantic pounding coming from the front door.

“Hold your snadgers, I’m coming,” she calls, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.  When she pulls the front door open, she’s met with a young teenager clearly in the middle of panicking.

“Woah, hey,” Mabel says.  “Are you alright?”  Possible scenarios run through her mind.  The kid doesn’t look amazing, but he’s not banged up enough to be running from any kind of monster.  He doesn’t have enough stuff to justify being here on a vacation and having gotten lost.  In fact, it seems like he just has the clothes on his back.

“I—” the kid looks down at the ground, clenches his hands into fists, and seems to try and brace himself.  “My name is Filbrick.  You’re— you’re my Aunt Mabel, right?”

“Uh… I doubt it?”  ‘Aunt’ implies Dipper is back over here and has a teenage kid, and there are some pretty significant reasons Mabel would know if that was the case.

“Well, not Aunt exactly, I think Dad says you’re like my second cousin or something, but— but he calls you my crazy aunt who lives in the woods, so…”

“Wow, he really knows how to flatter a girl,” Mabel deadpans.  “Are you guys in town?  Did you lose track of him?  I can probably help you find him.”

At that, Filbrick’s breathing starts to quicken, and he shakes his head.  “We— we live in Jersey,” he says weakly.  “He— Dad threw me out.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Mabel asks, eyes widening.

“It was my fault,” Filbrick says, still not meeting Mabel’s eyes.  “I deserved it, I fucked up.  But I don’t have anywhere else to go and I remembered him saying something about my crazy aunt who lives in the woods in Oregon and the people in town said you’re Mabel Pines, so—”

“Woah woah woah,” Mabel says, holding her hands out.  “Kid— Filbrick, right?  Slow down.  First of all, I don’t care what you did, he should not have thrown you out at your age.  What are you, sixteen?”

“Fifteen,” Filbrick says.

“Yeah.  Bullshit move on his part.  Second, you’re from New Jersey?  How did you get here?”

“I hitchhiked,” Filbrick says.  “With a couple people.”

“Wow, so that’s unsafe.  Okay, come in,” Mabel says, waving Filbrick inside and trying to take a deep breath of her own.  This is definitely not what she’d planned on doing this morning.

Filbrick follows her inside, and Mabel leads them both to the kitchen table.  Filbrick still hasn’t looked up from the floor.

“Okay, I wasn’t really planning on company,” Mabel says, heading for the cabinets.  “But I can—”

“I can earn my keep,” Filbrick says quickly.  “You don’t have to feed me or anything, I— I can sleep outside in the— do you have a shed?”

“Stop.  Stop talking,” Mabel says, pinching the bride of her nose.  This is so above her paygrade.  “You are not sleeping outside in a shed, and you do not have to earn your keep.   Jesus, kid.  You’re not even old enough to have a job.”

“Dad says I am,” Filbrick says.  “He says I could work, like, under the table jobs so—”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean you should,” Mabel says.  “Kid, you can stay here as long as you need, I— I don’t know if I have a spare bed, but the couch is open.  I’ll have to clean the glitter off of it, but—”

“You don’t need to do that,” Filbrick says.  “Whatever you want to offer is fine.”

“Yeah, I’m cleaning the glitter off of it.  Look, sit down.  Take a deep breath.”

Filbrick sits down at one of the chairs and takes as deep a breath as he can seem to manage, which still sounds pretty panicked.

“It’s okay,” Mabel says, even though it is very much not.  “You’re safe here, alright?  You can stay here until… until whenever you don’t need to anymore.”

It’s a scary thing to say, because she wasn’t planning on any of this half an hour ago, but Filbrick looks scared out of his mind sitting there, and she can’t just toss him out on the streets at fifteen.  That’s younger than she was when she struck out on her own, and she was probably too young to do that, too.

Filbrick doesn’t seem much calmer, but he does nod.  “Thank you,” he says.  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You don’t— you know what, we’ll talk about it later,” Mabel says.  “I’m going to make you some food.  Do you like leftover spaghetti?”

…

Eventually, Mabel lets Filbrick work in the store, because it’s very clear he’s going stir crazy not having anything to do.  He still gives all the money he makes back to Mabel, though, and says he’s already freeloading in her house, and this can just be paying her back for that.  He won’t budge on it no matter what Mabel says.

She lets him work at the cash register, which he’s pretty amazing at, actually.  He’s got a real eye for people trying to steal, and has caught every single one so far, staring them down with a very unimpressed look until they either sheepishly put the craft supplies back, or sheepishly pay for it.  The first time Mabel saw him catch someone, he shouted a man twice his size out the door, yelling that if he wanted to steal, he should be better at it.  Mabel laughed so hard she almost cried.

On slow days, Filbrick spends most of the time staring out the front door, waiting for anyone else to show up.  He doesn’t ever seem comfortable doing anything else, even if Mabel tries to nudge him to get a book, or some supplies, or something fun to do while he’s just sitting there.

For this particular afternoon, however, it’s a good thing, as it’s because he’s just sitting there that Mabel knows something is up when he gasps and stumbles backwards away from the cash register.

“Filbrick?” Mabel asks, stepping away from where she’s restocking supplies.  “Are you okay?”

“What is that?” Filbrick asks.  He points towards the door, and when Mabel turns to look, she sees a fairy floating outside it.

“Oh, that’s Sparkle!  She’s a fairy,” Mabel says.  She heads over towards the cashier and ducks underneath it to get her supply of fairy dust.  She sets the container down on the counter and pulls out the pouch of gold coins she has stashed in with it.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Mabel says, waving to Filbrick.  She starts over for the door, and Filbrick gets up and follows her, though he hides behind her back, just barely peeking out.

“Hello Sparkle,” Mabel says.  “Is it still three coins, or has it gone up again?”

“Still three,” Sparkle says, sounding relieved to be saying it.  “I don’t think I’ll be able to carry them if it goes any higher.”

“I’m happy to come out there, you know,” Mabel says, taking the fairy dust and passing the coins over, which Sparkle balances on top of each other like a precarious stack of baked goods.  “You don’t have to come all the way over here.”

“They still don’t trust you enough to let you see the grove,” Sparkle sighs.  “Give it a few years.”  She pauses, and glances behind Mabel, meaning she must have noticed Filbrick.

“Mabel, I don’t want to alarm you, but I think you have a growth,” Sparkle says, pointing at him.

Mabel laughs a little, and glances back at Filbrick, who looks almost petrified, staring at Sparkle.

“This is my… well, technically he’s my cousin, but he’s been calling me Aunt Mabel, so I call him my nephew.  Filbrick, this is Sparkle.  I have a deal with her for fairy dust.  It’s much better than glitter at making sweaters sparkle.”  She winks at Sparkle as she says it, who winks back.

Filbrick doesn’t say anything, and ducks further behind Mabel.

“Hello,” Sparkle says.  Filbrick still doesn’t say anything, and Sparkle laughs.  “You don’t need to be scared,” she says, seeming amused.  “Mabel, I hope all your family aren’t such flutterbugs.”

“I’m not a coward,” Filbrick says, obvious anger in his voice.

“You sure, kid?” Sparkle says with a teasing smile.  “You’re like a hundred times my size, and I’m not scared of you.”

“Hey, go easy on him,” Mabel says.  “I don’t think he’s seen much Gravity Falls weirdness yet.”  She turns to Filbrick with a gentle smile.  “Sometimes things in Gravity Falls are a little… different,” she explains.  “I’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell you.  We’ve got some monsters, and magic, and creatures like Sparkle.  You’re gonna see them from time to time.”

Filbrick glares down at the ground and doesn’t say anything else.

“I’ll talk to you later, Sparkle,” she says.  She’ll probably be able to smooth things out easier when Sparkle isn’t here.  “Thanks for the fairy dust.”

“Same time next month,” Sparkle says with a smile as she flies off, balancing her coins expertly.

Mabel shuts the door and turns back to face Filbrick.  “So—”

“I’m not a coward,” Filbrick snaps.

Mabel blinks.  “No, buddy, you’re not,” she says.  “Plenty of people are a little freaked the first time they see stuff like that.  It’s normal.”

Filbrick just turns and storms off towards the back of the house.  Mabel almost goes after him, but maybe he just needs some time to himself to calm down.  Gravity Falls weirdness can be a little hard to swallow at first, after all.  She knows it was for her, when she first discovered it.  She’d practically had a panic attack the first time she saw a gnome.  Filbrick actually handled that really well, in comparison.

…

Several hours after the store closes, Mabel finds Sparkle dead at the edge of the lawn.  She looks like she was squashed under someone’s shoe, and the gold coins are gone.

Mabel asks Filbrick if he saw anything, and he says he’s pretty sure someone was chasing something around in the parking lot earlier.  He says be doesn’t know his name, but he had large puffy white hair.

“That’s Gideon,” Mabel says, gritting her teeth.  “That little— he probably wanted the gold.  God, when I see him next—” she stops with a shaky breath, and drops her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she hears Filbrick say.  “I should have told you when I saw it.”

“It’s okay,” Mabel sighs, running her hand through her hair.  “Just— I don’t know how to take her home.  I don’t know where the fairy’s grove is.”  She presses a hand to her mouth and takes as deep a breath as she can manage.

“I’m sure someone will come looking for her,” she says after a second.  “I’ll keep her here.”

So she puts Sparkle on a soft bed of tissues and yarn, the best she can do when she doesn’t know the fairies’ culture surrounding the dead.

Two fairies do come looking for Sparkle the next day, and when Mabel takes them to her, the three of them cry together.  They let Mabel come back to the grove for the funeral.

She wishes it felt like more of a joy to be trusted to do that.

…

It takes a long time, but Mabel does get Filbrick to start coming out of his shell.  She manages to get him to goof off a little while working in the shop after she shows him it’s okay by doing it herself.  He stops looking quite so scared every time she approaches him, and looks at her like she hung the sun in the sky whenever she compliments his work ethic.  He very hesitantly starts asking for things at the store, and different meals for dinner.  She learns his favorite is spaghetti and meatballs, which she suspects has something to do with that being the first thing he ate when he got here, but she’s not going to say anything about it.  They start making it together, and it quickly becomes one of Mabel’s favorite things to do.  She’d never planned on having kids.  She’s starting to wonder if she should.

The night it all goes wrong starts off really well.

They’re closing up the store together, and Filbrick is taking inventory while Mabel counts up their profits for the day.

“And we should probably get more electric blue yarn soon, but other than that we’re good,” Filbrick says, giving a small smile as he walks back over towards the cash register.  He sets the inventory pad down next to the cash Mabel’s counting up.

“Yeah, that electric blue goes fast,” she says.  “It’s a lot of people’s favorite.  I’ll put in an order for some tomorrow.”  She sets the last twenty to the side and writes down their profit for the day.  “Alright, we’re doing pretty good this week.  Keep this up and I’ll take you to see a movie sometime.”

“What movie?” Filbrick asks.  “Because if it’s that unicorn one, I won’t be impressed.  Plus it won’t have nearly enough glitter to satisfy your insane appetite for it.”

“Did you just make a joke, Filbrick?” Mabel asks, turning to face him with a grin.  Filbrick smiles back, and Mabel gasps in mock offense, keeping the joke going.

“Well, that’s it, now we’re definitely seeing the unicorn one,” she says, reaching out and giving Filbrick a noogie.  “No getting out of it now, I’m taking you to see a unicorn movie.”

“No!” Filbrick protests, pushing himself away from Mabel, though she can tell he’s not bothered by it from the giant grin on his face.

Before Mabel can continue teasing him, however, there’s a loud knock on the door.  She turns to see a large gruff looking man standing right outside.  She sighs and starts over, planning on telling whoever’s there that the store is closed for the day, but then from behind her she hears a panicked gasp from Filbrick.

She turns around, intent on asking what’s wrong, when the person outside bangs on the screen door again and yells, “Open up!”

“Alright, hold your snadgers,” Mabel says, walking the rest of the way over.  “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closed for the—”

“You have my son,” the man says, and Mabel blinks.  Her eyes widen a second later.

“You’re Filbrick’s father,” she realizes.

“You have my son,” the man repeats, no change to his tone.

Mabel looks back at Filbrick, who’s standing ramrod straight in the middle of the room and clearly wants to disappear.  She takes a deep breath and turns back around.

“You kicked your son out of the house,” she says, as evenly as she can manage.  He’s not a small man, and she’s not going to pretend he doesn’t set her nerves on edge a little bit.

“He needed to be taught a lesson.”

“I don’t appreciate your lessons,” Mabel says.  Filbrick makes a small terrified sound behind her, and Mabel clenches her hands into fists.

The man stands up straighter and glowers down at Mabel.  “That,” he says dangerously, “is not for you to decide.  He is my son.”

“He’s fifteen,” Mabel says.  “He wouldn’t make it on the streets.”

“Well, I suppose now we’ll never know, will we?” the man says.  “I’m taking him home.”

Mabel looks back at Filbrick again.  There’s obvious terror in his eyes, and he looks like he’s trying very hard to keep himself from bolting.

Mabel draws herself up taller, turns back to Filbrick’s father, and shakes her head.

That answer does not seem to be appreciated, as he narrows his eyes.  “Girl—”

“Don’t call me that,” Mabel snaps.

“I’ll call you whatever I want.  If you try to keep my son from me, I’ll press charges.  You can find out how you do behind bars.”

Almost involuntarily, Mabel’s eyes drift towards the vending machine.  Partway there, her gaze lands on Filbrick again.  He’s grabbed onto the desk to try and stop his hands from shaking, but they still are, and obviously.

“Filbrick, go clean up the dishes in the kitchen,” Mabel says.

“You will go nowhere, boy,” his father snaps, and Filbrick gaze snaps to him.

“Don’t—” Mabel starts, turning back around to glare, but before she can continue, she feels the familiar sting of a smack across the face.

Mabel clenches her hands into fists and stares the man down, trying not to show how afraid she is, for her and for Filbrick.

He does not seem to like her defiance, and Mabel puts up an arm to block his fist a second before it hits her face, though it doesn’t really do much in terms of minimizing the impact.  She grimaces but holds herself there.

“Touch me again and I will press charges,” she says lowly.

“You think you can take me on?” the man asks, giving an amused smile with a cruel curl to it.  “I’d like to see you—”

“No!” comes a sudden voice, and before Mabel can turn around Filbrick is shoving himself in between her and his father.  “No, please, just— I’ll go home, just don’t hurt her!”

“Filbrick,” Mabel says, reaching out for him.  Filbrick smacks her hand away.

His father gives him an unimpressed look, and Filbrick can’t keep looking at him after a second, dropping his gaze and clenching his shaking hands into fists.

“Stop shaking, you sniveling coward,” his father says, which, predictably, does not lessen Filbrick’s shaking.

“Filbrick, no—” Mabel starts, reaching for him.  Just before she grasps his arm, a fist swings again at her face, this time too fast for her to stop it.

Mabel feels the rough impact with her face slam her sideways into the edge of the desk.  Her head cracks against it, and she hears Filbrick scream for only a second before the light snaps out.

…

When she wakes up, it’s dark outside, and she’s alone in the house.

…

Mabel fights for months to try and get ahold of Filbrick, or his father, or his mother, in hopes that she might be more help.  She tries to go through Glass Shard’s police force next, but instead finds that Filbrick’s father is one of the officers, which ruins that plan before it can get started.

She tries to get help from someone in Gravity Falls, but no one has anything close to jurisdiction that would be helpful, and finally, she has no choice but to refocus on her store, or risk losing her house.  She throws herself into portal work twice as hard in an attempt to make up for something.  Try to save the other family member she’s failed so completely.  It doesn’t work.  She still doesn’t know what she’s doing.

She hopes in some desperate part of her that Filbrick will seek her out again, but he doesn’t.  In fact, the first time she hears from him again is over a decade later, when she gets a call from a Caryn Pines, saying she found Mabel’s name as the only one in her husband’s address book, and that she wanted someone from his side of the family to be there for the birth of their second child.  Apparently last time, it had been just her side of the family there, and Filbrick hadn’t spoken to anyone and had stood in the corner dead silent.

Mabel gets the address and drives almost two days straight to New Jersey, and upon heading to the pawn shop, finds the baby must have come while she was driving, because there’s a note on the door about the pawn shop being closed and the family being at the hospital.

Mabel gets directions from a nearby gas station and heads there, and upon introducing herself as Mabel Pines, is directed to the maternity ward and the room that Caryn is in.

Upon knocking, she’s greeted by a young boy.

“Hello,” she says.  “I’m Mabel.  Who might you be?”

The boy’s face lights up.  “You’re my Great Aunt Mabel!” he calls happily.  “I’m Shermie!  I’m 7!”

“Well it’s great to meet you, Shermie,” Mabel says, feeling something raw and hopeful in her chest at the fact that Filbrick’s son knows who she is.  “I heard you’ve got a younger sibling now!”

Shermie bounces in obvious excitement, but says, “Nope!”

Mabel blinks, tipping her head in confusion.  “No?”

Shermie bounces a couple more times and announces, “I have two baby brothers!”

Mabel’s eyes widen.  “Two?”

“Yeah!  My Ma had twins, so there’s two of ‘em!”

“Oh that’s wonderful,” Mabel says, a bright grin taking over her face.

“Yeah, come meet ‘em, come meet ‘em!”  Shermie reaches out and grabs her arm, then pulls her into the room.

Laid back on the bed, looking absolutely exhausted, is a woman who must be Caryn.  She’s holding two babies in her arms, one of whom seems perfectly content to lay there and look around, and one who’s screaming his head off, his face bright red.

Mabel’s hands go to her mouth, her heart swelling in her chest.  “Oh my goodness,” she whispers.

“Ma!” Shermie yells over the sound of the one crying, drawing Caryn’s attention.  “Great Aunt Mabel’s here!”

Caryn looks over at Mabel and smiles warmly.  “Oh, thank goodness you made it,” she says, raising her voice just enough to be heard.  “Filbrick is walking my side of the family back to the exit.  I’m a little surprised he’s not back by now, but he’ll be glad to see you when he gets here.  I’m Caryn.  Sorry, but I’m not going to stand up or shake your hand.”

Mabel laughs, starting over towards the bed.  “No, of course,” she says.  “I’m Mabel.  I’m so glad to finally meet you.  I hadn’t heard from Filbrick in such a long time.”  She doesn’t want to ask directly why, especially because she doubts Caryn has the energy for a conversation like that right now.  So instead, she tacks on, “But this is such a wonderful way to reconnect.  Do they have names yet?”

“Well, we were going to name him Stanford if he was a boy, but we didn’t really have two names picked out,” Caryn says.  “I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

Mabel settles down in the chair next to the bed, and Shermie runs over to sit down on the couch by the window, happily swinging his feet.

“Would you like a break from holding them?” Mabel asks, and sees instant relief pass over Caryn’s face.

“Oh, yes please,” she says.  “Filbrick’s been busy running around, I’ve had them all morning.”

Mabel takes the calmer baby first, and takes a moment to rock him back and forth before taking the one who’s still yelling his lungs out.

“Well you have got a lot to say, don’t ya?” Mabel says, doing her best to rock him while holding onto him and his brother both.  It works enough that he stops wailing quite so loudly, at least.

Shermie hops up from the couch and runs over to stand in front of Mabel.

“Can I try to rock him so he calms down?” he asks, looking up at her with a bright grin.

Mabel glances up at Caryn.  She nods.  “If he’s careful.”

“Alright, here, I’ll trade ya,” Mabel says, climbing up and letting Shermie take the chair.  She passes over the fussing baby, and demonstrates with the other how to hold his head and support him.  Shermie gets the hang of it quickly, and then rocks the baby back and forth until he manages to stop crying.

Shermie beams up at Mabel.  “I did it!”

“You did,” Mabel says, smiling back.  “You’re gonna be a good big brother, Shermie, I can tell.”

Shermie bounces a little bit in excitement, before remembering that he’s holding his brother and calming down.

Mabel looks down at the one she’s holding, who’s looking up at her almost curiously, if it’s possible for a baby to be curious.

“That one’s pretty unique, actually,” comes Caryn’s voice.

“Oh?” Mabel asks, turning to her.  “Why’s that?”

Before Caryn can answer, the door at the other end of the room bangs open, and all three of them jump.  The baby in Shermie’s arms starts crying again.

A large man that looks very much like Filbrick’s father had when Mabel met him storms across the room, followed by a nurse who seems to be trying to talk to him.

The man stops when he notices Mabel, then looks at her, eyes narrowed.  “Aunt Mabel.”

Mabel swallows.  “Filbrick,” she says.  A bit of nerves slip into her voice.  She doesn’t have a good track record with family reunions.  “It’s good to see you again.”

Filbrick glares at her for another second, before turning to face Shermie.

Shermie hunches over a little on his seat, holding his baby brother closer, and then pausing to double check that he’s supporting his head.

“Sherman, give me that baby,” Filbrick says.

“Sir,” the nurse behind him says, but Filbrick cuts her off with a very angry gesture.

“Why?” Shermie asks.

“Because this nurse is going to be taking care of him.”

“She’s going to what?” Caryn asks, pushing herself up in bed.  “Filbrick, I thought you were joking!”

“I don’t joke,” Filbrick says, turning to glare at her.

“What’s going on?” Mabel asks, finding herself stepping in between Filbrick and Shermie, and the baby Shermie’s still holding.

“I’m not raising twins,” Filbrick says, turning a firm and angry look to Mabel.  “I didn’t prepare for twins, I didn’t want twins.  And I won’t raise twins.”

“Filbrick,” Caryn says.  She tries to push herself out of bed, only for the nurse to rush forward and hold her down.

“Ma’am, you really shouldn’t get up,” she says, though she keeps looking back at Filbrick.

Filbrick has turned again to face Mabel and Shermie.

“I’m not having an argument about this,” he says.  “Sherman, give me that boy.”

“Filbrick,” Mabel says.  She reaches out with her free hand to hold him back, and though she feels the anger and tension in his stance, she’s not worried he’ll hurt her.  “Calm down.  Let’s talk about this.”  The baby in Mabel’s arms starts to squirm.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Filbrick says, drawing himself up taller.  “Sherman, give me—”

“Hey,” Mabel cuts him off.  “Outside.  We’re having a talk.”

Filbrick’s gaze turns almost murderous, but Mabel stares him down, and after a second, he turns and stalks for the door.

“Woah,” comes Shermie’s tiny voice from behind her.  “How did you do that?”  Mabel turns around and sees him staring up at her in awe.

She turns to look at Caryn, who looks equal parts scared and desperate.

“Here,” Mabel says, passing her the baby in her arms.  “I’ll be right back.”

She turns and walks out before she can get any kind of response.

Filbrick is standing right outside the room, looking very unhappy.  He looks about to speak, but Mabel talks first.

“What is wrong with you?” she asks, crossing her arms.  “You can’t just give up one of your kids.”

“I can’t afford twins,” Filbrick says, crossing his arms right back and glowering down at her.  “Would you have me go bankrupt?”

“Of course not, but there are other options first,” Mabel says.  “You have family that can help you, you can make adjustments.”

“You can’t rely on family long-term,” Filbrick says.  “If you can’t hold your own in this world, people aren’t just going to help you.  A man needs to be able to take care of his own.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help,” Mabel counters.  “Look, my store is making pretty good money these days.  I have enough that I can send you some every month if you need it.  You can—”

“I’m not going to take handouts,” Filbrick says, sounding disgusted at the very idea.  “I don’t need anyone’s help to take care of my family.”

“You do if your solution is tearing that family apart,” Mabel says.  She reaches out to try and grasp Filbrick’s arm, but he takes a step back before she gets close.

Mabel takes a steadying breath.  “Listen,” she says.  “Before you got back here, everyone in there was excited about the twins.  Caryn was talking about what to name them and Shermie was overjoyed at the thought of having two little brothers.”

“Caryn is my wife,” Filbrick says coldly.  “And she should know this is my household.  And Shermie is my son.  I decide what’s best for him.”

“Filbrick,” Mabel says, and try as she might, she can’t stop her voice from cracking.

“I won’t have any more said on the matter.  If he was your son I’d let you do as you see fit.  But he’s not.”

Filbrick turns to walk back into the room, and Mabel’s pretty sure her heart’s shattering in her chest.  Her brain won’t stop shoving at her the image of Filbrick on her front porch, desperate and begging for help, and the panic on his face when his father showed up again.  It’s nice to have proof, she supposes.  First Dipper, now Filbrick.  She really can’t save anyone right.

But damn her if she ever stops trying.

“Give him to me then,” Mabel says, just as Filbrick’s hand lands on the doorknob.  He stops, and turns to face her.

“I’ll take him,” Mabel says.  Something bitter in her chest spits out before she can really stop it, “if you really can’t stomach asking for help getting another set of diapers.”

Filbrick turns around and crosses his arms again.  “You don’t want to raise a kid.”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Mabel snaps.  “You know I’m capable.”

“You don’t want to raise a kid,” Filbrick repeats.  “They suck up all your energy and time and don’t give you anything back.”

“You gave me plenty back,” Mabel says quietly.  “You gave me your company and your companionship.”

Filbrick narrows his eyes.  “Your methods were less than impressive.”

“Well then I guess I’ll have more time to learn with this one,” Mabel says.  “Do you think I can’t do it?”

Filbrick looks at her for a long moment.  Finally, he just turns and walks back inside.  Mabel stays at the door, not quite sure what that means.  After a minute or so of her debating whether or not she should go back in, the door opens and the nurse from before steps out, carrying a baby.  He’s back to fussing and squirming.

“He, um,” the nurse says.  “He told you to take him and leave.”

Mabel takes a shaky breath, and tears well in her eyes as the nurse passes the baby over to her.  Mabel looks down at him, and suddenly the gravity of what she’s just done presses down onto her shoulders.

“Yes, um, ma’am,” Mabel says, looking up just as the nurse is about to walk off.  “Can— is there someone I can talk to about how to raise a baby?”

The nurse looks just as lost as Mabel feels for a second, but nods.  “Come with me,” she says.  Mabel follows her down the hallway.

She casts one last glance at the room behind her, and then is interrupted by the baby below her starting to wail.

Mabel rocks him back and forth, shushing him as gently as she can.  The nurse looks helplessly back at her, and Mabel aims for a smile that’s more confident than she feels.

…

Mabel names the baby Stanley, remembering what Caryn had said about naming the other Stanford.  It feels like the best connection with his brother that she can give him, and the best apology she can manage for failing to keep them together.

And maybe it wouldn’t have even mattered.  Maybe they wouldn’t have been as joined at the hip as her and Dipper.  But she can’t quite resist doing it anyway.

Besides, it’s not like she’ll ever know.

Chapter Text

It’s been way too long since Ford’s seen his brother, but he still hadn’t been expecting to for another couple weeks until summer vacation rolled around and Sherman came home from college.  It’s still a welcome surprise, however, especially after the day Ford has had.

He should honestly just know better about trying to hang out on the beach at this point, because the times he isn’t found by Crampelter are few and far between.  But he likes to explore the caves that aren’t boarded up, and he likes swimming from time to time, and there aren’t many other things to do in Glass Shard Beach in the summertime, so he’ll probably keep taking the risk.

Even on days like today, where it might have been smarter for him to stay home.

Crampelter must have been set off by something, even if Ford can’t remember anything he specifically did, because as soon as he spotted him on the beach, he started trying to chase him off it.  Ford’s currently running towards the caves, hoping one will be open and well-hidden enough that he can duck inside, but knowing that really, Crampelter’s chasing him too fast for that plan to work.  He’s gonna have to try something else.

“Get back here, freak!”

Ford glances briefly over his shoulder to find Crampelter much closer than he’d like.

He looks ahead and sees what looks like a boarded up cave, but with an entrance definitely too small for Crampelter to fit through.  It’s a gamble, but he’s kind of out of options.

Ford darts over towards it, slides to a stop in front, and kicks the boards.

No give.

He throws a punch at one, and his hand bounces off.  Ford winces at the pushback and all the splinters he definitely just embedded in his hand.

He pulls his foot back to try kicking again, but a large hand catches it, and yanks it out from under him.  Ford hits the ground with an “oof.”

“Trying to run, huh?” Crampelter says.  “So you’re a freak, and a coward, too?”

Ford scrambles around so he’s at least looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” he says, which he definitely shouldn’t.  “Seems a little cowardly to pick on someone half your size, to me.”

Crampelter’s face darkens.  Yeah, bad idea on Ford’s part.

He pushes himself to his feet anyway, because he’s not going to take this literally lying down.

“You want to apologize for calling me a coward?” Crampelter asks dangerously.

And Ford is apparently not done making stupid decisions today, because he aims a fist for the highest part of Crampelter he can reach.  Unfortunately, that means his fist hits a firm chest, and Crampelter actually laughs, crossing his arms.

Okay, new plan.

“Bye,” Ford says, and darts around Crampelter’s side before he uncrosses his arms.

“What the— hey!”

Ford doesn’t aim for leaving the beach, which is much too long of a journey, but instead making it to the boardwalk, which is a closer target.

Crampelter stays hot on his heels, but Ford just barely manages to make it in time.  He ducks under the boardwalk, then proceeds to run underneath it until it narrows and sinks itself into the sand.  He tucks himself right up against the beginning of it, and then looks out at Crampelter, who’s stuck a couple feet out of reach of Ford’s arm.

“You little—” Crampelter snaps, reaching for him.  Ford pushes himself further back into the sand.  They both know which one of them has more patience.

Sure enough, Crampelter tries for another half a minute or so, then huffs in irritation.

“You’re not worth my time,” he snaps, and leans back and spits in Ford’s face before he runs off.

Ford wipes it off, but none of his limbs ache with fresh bruises while he does, and he’s going to count that as a win.

He waits for another couple minutes, just to be safe, then crawls out from under the boardwalk.  When he doesn’t see Crampelter anywhere, he starts the trip home. 

He takes his time walking there, mostly so he doesn’t show up sweaty and gasping and get questions from Pa about why.  But that plus the running from Crampelter means he shows up later than usual, and he’s just as liable to get questions about that.

When he gets there, however, he imagines that’s not going to be much of a problem, because Ford can hear enough shouting as he walks up towards the pawn shop that it’s clear someone else is already the subject of Pa’s anger.  Though things get more confusing when he finds no one in the pawn shop, meaning it’s not a customer.  But Pa doesn’t often scream at Ma.  He saves that for Ford, most of the time.  Unless he’s really mad, which… sounds right, for this occasion.

Ford creeps through the pawn shop and peeks around the corner into the living room, hoping to get a little more information, and that’s when he sees Pa yelling at Sherman, which is weird, since he isn’t supposed to be here yet.

“That is absolutely not your place, and you’d do well to leave that to me,” Pa snaps, standing further upright.  Sherman’s gained a good half a foot on him since going to college, though, and he doesn’t seem too intimidated.

“I would if I thought you were ever going to tell him anything,” Sherman says, sounding just as frustrated.  “He’s 12 years old.  He’s more than ready to know.”

12 years old?  Are they talking about him?

“I decide when he’s ready to know these things,” Pa says.  “What would even be the point?  It’s not like he’s ever going to know the little parasite.”

“That’s not for you to say,” Sherman says lowly.  “Not for good.”

“Shermie,” Ma says, sounding a little exasperated.

“It’s for me to say if I want it to be.”

“Filbrick,” Ma cuts in again.  “Look, do we have to have this conversation now?  Can’t we just appreciate for a little bit the fact that Shermie is home?”

“I’m not staying, Ma,” Sherman says, and Ford’s blood runs cold.

“What do you mean you’re not staying?” Ma asks.

“That’s why I’m here,” Sherman says.  “I’m taking some summer courses.”

No Sherman?  Not for the whole summer?

“So you just came here to, what,” Pa snaps.  “Tell us you’re staying the hell away from us and insult me about Stanley?”

Ford steps out from behind the corner.  Ma turns and spots him.

“I’m not insulting anything,” Sherman says.  “I’m saying it’s time he learned.”

“Boys,” Ma says, firmly and sharply enough to shut them both up.  She nods towards Ford, and suddenly everyone’s turned to look at him.

“Who’s Stanley?” Ford asks.

“No one,” Pa says, quick and firm without room for argument.

Ford clenches his fists at his sides.  “Who’s Stanley?”  He looks at Ma, who sighs and crosses her arms.  She gets that look on her face, the one that shows up when Ford has said something that’s made her sad for reasons he can’t understand.  That looks always means he needs to stop pushing, or she’ll get mad next.

So instead, he turns to Sherman.  “Who’s Stanley?” he says again.

Pa gives Sherman a firm look, and after a moment where Sherman looks torn, he sighs and looks away.

Pa gives Sherman a satisfied look, then turns to look at Ford.

“Go to your room,” he says.

“But I didn’t even do anything!” Ford protests.

Pa raises an eyebrow, and Ford turns and runs for the steps, though he can’t quite stop himself from slamming the door to his room.

Who the heck is Stanley?  And why was Pa talking about him like he’s some great shame none of them should ever mention?

Ford hovers around the door, trying to see if the argument’s going to continue.  But while he doesn’t hear anything anyone else says, he definitely hears the front door slam.

Sherman.

Ford runs to his window, the one facing the side of the house, and pulls it open.  The gutter on the side of the house is a little bent from other times he’s done this, but Ford doesn’t weigh quite enough yet to pull it down— he knows, he’s done the math.  He pulls his sleeves over his hands, grabs onto the gutter, and slides down to the ground.

The gutter groans as he does.  Okay, maybe his days of doing that are almost over.  But he made it today, and that’s the important thing.  He runs quickly around to the front of the house, where, thankfully, Sherman’s car hasn’t left yet.  In fact, he’s sitting leaning back against his seat, eyes closed in defeat.

Ford marches right over to the car and knocks on the window.

Sherman yelps and jerks towards him.  He lets out a sigh, then slumps back against the seat again.  After a second, he rolls down the window.

“Geez, Stanford, don’t do that,” Sherman says.

“Who’s Stanley?” Ford asks, putting enough determination in his voice that Sherman will know he’s not backing down.

Sherman looks at him, and seems to realize this.  He sighs, reaches over and presses a button, and Ford hears the car unlock.

“Get in,” Sherman says.

Ford climbs into the front seat next to him, and Sherman pulls away from the house.

Sherman sighs again, looking like he’s dreading this.  It’s for maybe that reason that the next thing he says is, “You want to get some ice cream?”

…

Two ice cream cones later, they’re back at the beach, on the swingset that makes the only real place to sit down.  Ford gave Sherman time to gather his thoughts while they both finish their ice cream, but they both know they’re not leaving the beach until Ford gets an explanation.

So, as Ford finishes his ice cream and wipes off the stickiness on his hands on a paper napkin, he also turns to his right to face Sherman and gives him just as firm a look as he did through the car window.

“So?”

Sherman winces, but doesn’t argue.

“Okay,” he says, turning to face Ford.  “Stanley is our brother.”

Ford narrows his eyes.  “Our brother?   We have a second brother?”

Sherman nods.

“Why don’t I know about him?”

“He’s your twin,” Sherman says quietly.

“I have a twin brother?”

“Yes.  Pa…” a dark look passes over Sherman’s face, and Ford flinches.  Sherman notices, and takes a deep breath, calming down before continuing.

“Pa didn’t want to raise both of you.”

“What?   Why not?”

“I guess he just couldn’t be bothered,” Sherman snaps, and then catches himself.  After a second, he says tightly, “He told Ma and I it was money problems.”

Ford turns and stares out at the ocean, feeling faint.  “I— I don’t understand,” he whispers.

Sherman gives him a sympathetic frown.  “I don’t either, bud,” he says.

“No I mean— where is he?” Ford asks.  “Did they just— just throw him out?”

“No,” Sherman says, holding up a hand.  “At least, not exactly.  He’s not just out there on his own.”

“You know where he is,” Ford realizes, looking back at Sherman.

Sherman looks away.  “I’m really not sure it’s a good idea—”

“Tell me.”

Sherman sighs.  “He’s in Oregon.”

Ford blinks, caught off guard by the answer.  “Oregon?”

Sherman nods.  “He lives with our Great Aunt Mabel in a town called Gravity Falls.”

Ford feels faint again.  He has an entire twin brother.  Who he’s never met.  Living on the other side of the country.

“Ford?” Sherman asks.  “You okay, bud?”

“I— no,” Ford says.

Sherman climbs up from the swing, steps over and kneels in front of Ford’s, then pulls him into a hug.  Ford grabs tightly onto the back of Sherman’s shirt.

“You’re really gonna be gone all summer?” Ford asks, not quite sure where it comes from.

“Yes,” Sherman says.  “My advisor says I have to take a summer course if I want to graduate on time, and I have to graduate on time if I want to be able to afford a place to live.  You know Pa won’t let me stay at the house.”  He pulls back.  “I’m sorry I’m leaving you alone.”

“I have so many things to ask you.”

“I know,” Sherman says, giving him a sad smile.  “You can call me anytime you want.”

“Yeah, and now Pa’s gonna be listening in on every conversation to make sure you’re not telling me exactly what you just told me,” Ford says, crossing his arms.

Sherman doesn’t disagree.  Ford huffs and looks down at the ground.

“Look,” Sherman says.  “I’ll be back for Rosh Hashanah, okay?  You can ask me everything you want then.”

“That’s in September,” Ford protests.

“I know.  But it can’t be helped.”

Ford glares down at the ground, blinking away harsh tears.  After a second, however, he gives up and throws himself into Sherman’s arms.  Sherman holds onto him tightly, and they both stay there for a long moment.

…

The following morning, Ford packs what snacks won’t be noticed, grabs cash that definitely will be, and sneaks out to walk to the bus station in the early morning.

No way is he waiting until September.

Chapter Text

“Come on, I told you mine!”

“And I told you that mine isn’t important!”

“I don’t see what the big deal is!”

When Mabel walks in to what looks like a very intense argument being had over breakfast waffles and decides she has officially not had enough Mabel Juice for this.  There is a very different energy level required between fixing the portal, running a business, and taking care of a kid, and fixing the portal, running a business, and taking care of two kids.  Especially if they’re going to argue like her and Dipper over the post-dinner TV show.

“Hey,” she says, drawing both boys’ attention.  “Solve it in two seconds or lower the volume.”

“Oh, like you can complain about being loud,” Stanley says, which… is a fair hit.  But a well-rested Mabel and a Mabel on no sleep can handle two different levels of volume at 7 in the morning.

“Then tell me what the problem is so I can solve it,” she says, walking over to the Mabel Juice that’s been brewing all night.

Ford immediately points at Stanley.  “He won’t tell me his middle name!”

“Ford!” Stanley hisses.

“Aww, well that’s no problem, I’ll tell you,” Mabel says, smiling more brightly.  “It’s—”

“It’s Filbrick, just like yours!” Stanley yells, jumping up on his chair and shoving his hand over Mabel’s mouth.

Unfortunately for him, Mabel is much taller, and can step back with ease while leaving Stan stuck there.

“Stanley, don’t be silly,” she says, grinning mischievously at him.  “That’s not your middle name!  It’s—”

“Not a big deal,” Stan says through gritted teeth.

“Bud, either you tell him or I will,” Mabel says, because one of the joys of being a parent is getting to embarrass your kid.

Stanley groans, then drops down into his chair and buries his head in his arms.

“Come on, tell me!” Ford says.  He’s also grinning, clearly having caught on to this being embarrassing.

Stanley grumbles something into his arms.

“What was that?” Ford asks.

Stanley picks his head up and mumbles it, still inaudible.

“I can’t hear you,” Ford sings, getting a death glare from Stan.

Mabel laughs.  “It’s Sparkle Glitter the Third,” she says to Ford.

Stan groans and buries his head in his hands again.

Ford laughs incredulously.  “What, seriously?”

“Yes,” Stan says, picking up his head.  “She named me Stanley Sparkle Glitter the Third Pines.”

“And I don’t regret it for a second!” Mabel says with delight.  “I would have killed for a name like that when I was your age!”

“Yeah, you would have,” Stan says, rolling his eyes.

“That’s awesome,” Ford says, looking just as delighted as Mabel feels.

“If you tell anyone else you’re dead,” Stan snaps.

“Oh, Stanley, don’t be silly,” Mabel says.  “Everyone you admire already knows—”

“I know!”