Soostan Month is a celebration of everyone's favorite conman and his employee/boyfriend/pseudo-son! From June 15th to July 13th, each week will have a theme with relating prompts. All prompts are up to interpretation and works of all mediums are welcomed and encouraged!
And as said above in the comic, this event is 18+ only. As such, NSFW works are allowed!
Please use the tag: Soostanmonth2026 so I can find your works! Below the cut is the list of prompts for each week. Thank you so much for your time, please have a lovely day, and I hope you enjoy the event whether it be as a participant or a spectator.
Happy Birthday to Soos and a happy final day of Soostan Month to you all!! Thank you to everyone who has followed along and a very special thank you to @lourdesdeath for your contributions <3 it means the world! ❤️💚
If anyone has any late submissions, don't be afraid to put it in the tags! I have some late submissions myself.
Thank you again, and have a great rest of your Summer! ❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚
They were in that afterglow of sex, Soos big and warm around and inside of Stan, when the front door slammed open.
“Hi Grunkle Stan! Hi Soos!”
Mabel was just as loud as ever, even now that she was getting closer and closer to 30, and it was a sort of blessing in disguise since it gave them warning before anyone came barrelling into the room and finding them in bed together.
Soos was dozing, a sort of heated and weighted blanket made just for Stan, but he roused when Stan shook his shoulder. He smiled up at Stan in the dim light of their room and kissed between Stan's tits.
“Sorry, dude. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you.”
“It's fine, but we're about to have company.”
“Anyone home?” Dipper's voice echoed through the Shack as if he'd heard Stan's comment.
Soos grinned sheepishly. “I forgot their flight was changed. I was gonna tell you.”
Carding his fingers through Soos's hair, Stan smiled at him more tenderly than he would admit to at gunpoint. “It's fine, gumdrop, but we'd better get dressed or they’ll get an eyeful.”
After a quick kiss, Stan extricated himself from under the larger man and started rifling through their clothes, tossing Soos's things onto the bed. It would have been easier with the lights on or with his glasses, but there were already footsteps coming up the stairs and Stan knew they didn't have much time.
His boxers squished uncomfortably as he pulled them on, but Stan could imagine far worse than having Soos's jizz leaking into the gusset while he walked, especially if it saved them the embarrassment of being caught with their pants down.
“Ready or not, here we come!” Mabel had already made it up the stairs, and Stan grabbed his shirt and began tugging it over his head, struggling when his A shirt fought with him.
“Uh, dude?” Soos said from outside of the shirt that was stuck over Stan's face.
“Can it, Soos! Just get your clothes on!”
Just as Stan's head popped out of the neckhole of the shirt, the door opened.
“Hey kids!” Stan said, trying his best to sound nonchalant as he fumbled a hand on the night stand for his glasses. “I was just uh… fixing a lightbulb with Soos.”
“A lightbulb?” Dipper's voice was practically dripping with doubt.
“Yeah! Why else would the lights be off, dude?” Soos answered helpfully from where he was standing behind Stan. “It's not like we were in bed together or anything.”
Maybe calling him helpful was a step too far.
Dipper flicked the light switch. He and Mabel stared at them like one of the Shack's exhibits.
“Changing a light bulb?” Dipper asked.
“Yep!” Stan answered.
“Both of you together?” Mabel inquired.
“Well, Mr. Pines is getting older. I don't trust him to get on ladders without me or Dr. Pines around.”
Stan was going to get Soos if it was the last thing he did.
“Changing a light bulb,” Dipper scratched the little tuft of scruff he called a beard. “I could believe that, couldn't you, Mabel?”
Mabel beamed, and Stan knew—he knew—he'd be getting the two of them once he was done dealing with Soos.
“I could, bro-bro. I believe that one hundred percent! I just have one tiny, itty bitty question.”
“I suspect I have the same question,” Dipper replied. He spun to face Stan directly, pointing a finger at him. “Why would you need to wear each other's clothes to change a light bulb?”
Stan looked down.
Soos’s old staff shirt hung from his body, the fabric warped from years of wear but still visibly Soos’s question mark symbol on the front. Stan turned and found Soos wearing Stan’s A shirt, the two-sizes-too-small garment turning into a crop top that left his lower belly exposed.
Stan ignored the flare of heat that attempted to burn through him at the sight of Soos’s belly looking so ready to be ravished, instead turning back to glare at Dipper and Mabel.
“Okay, fine. We were fucking. Alright?”
It had been long enough since they found out about Stan and Soos’s relationship that neither of them even blinked at Stan’s vulgarity. Their knowing smiles only got wider.
“Maybe we should find Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper said, grinning at his sister. “Will he have his clothes on, Grunkle Stan?”
They ran out of the room, giggling like the pair of twelve year olds they were not so long ago, before he could think of a good response.
Stan glared at the door as it swung shut behind them, even as Soos came up and rested a big hand on his shoulder.
“You okay, dude?”
“Get back into bed,” Stan growled.
“Huh?”
“If they’re gonna joke about us fucking, we’re gonna fuck and let them hear about it.”
Time shenanigans cause Canon!Stan and Teen!Stan to switch places.
“You like me, don'tcha?”
“Uh,” Soos articulated.
Soos was supposed to be babysitting. Well, the version of Stan that the Mystery Twins had entrusted him with was a teenager, but the point remained: He was the adult here and he was supposed to be responsible. All he had to do was make sure that teenaged Mr. Pines didn't get into any trouble or find out anything that would mess up the timestream while the twins found out how to get the older version of their uncle back. Typical Tuesday in Gravity Falls.
But, Soos had failed on both fronts. Now they were in the Shack’s office because he couldn't stop Mr. Pines from looking around his own house – because, hey, it's his office, too! And of course he was smart enough to put two and two together when he saw pictures of his older self and the kids and his name on documents and he was asking about some guy named Ford (Mr. McGucket?).
So Soos had not only completely messed up the timeline, but apparently he was way more obvious than he thought. Because, you know, he wasn't as grizzled and really hot in an old man way, but it was Mr. Pines! He was so handsome and cute and no matter what form he took, he'd always be Soos’ dream guy.
“You do,” Young Mr. Pines jutted out a finger and advanced on him. Soos’ back hit the desk, trapping him. “You got the hots for me!”
The only thing that left Soos’ throat was a collection of sputtering, half-formed sentences all jumbled together in his head.
Stan flashed him a cheshire grin. “So are you an’ me, you know,” he raised a hand, interlocking his middle and pointer fingers. “Together?”
“I– uh, no, uh, not really. I mean, I don't think he– or, you, like me like that?”
“Really?” His brows raised in surprise, but only for a moment. “Handsome guy like you not enough for my ugly old man self?”
Soos squawked. “Don't say that! You're the handsomest guy I know!”
Younger Mr. Pines seemed shocked for a moment. Red painted his cheeks. And then, his expression seemed to sink into something hungry and lustful. Stan's dark, half-lidded eyes dilated as he drank in the shape of Soos’ mouth. He licked his lips as he placed both hands on either side of Soos and leaned in.
“Wanna make him jealous?” Stan's breath ghosted Soos’ lips. “‘Cause clearly he don't know what he's missin’.”
Content Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content under the cut! Reader discretion is advised.
It was decided that, with the hot and humid weather, today was the kind of day that was better spent outside on the porch with Soos and watching the kids horse around with the water balloons than it was to keep the Shack open with no customers. It was nice. Ridiculously sweaty and hotter than hell, but nice.
Mabel and Dipper's laughter chimed through the air, mixing with the buzzing of cicadas. Pastel colored balloons were tossed through the air, each twin hurling their own share in between dodging and taunting one another. Most hits hadn't even landed, either breaking the moment it hit the grass in a plastic pop of color or was left miraculously intact, with either of the twins scrambling to race for it and bring it back into play.
As Stan relaxed on the couch, cold can of Pitt in hand, Soos’ arm was pressed right up next to his. The weather and Soos’ own body heat compounded, making the contact almost feel hot enough to burn. A good kind of burn. Good enough to make him consider leaning into it. Instead, he raised the can to his lips and gulped down the sweet, peachy flavor. More so than the drink itself, the cool condensation that covered his palm and trickled down his heated skin was enough to distract him from Soos’ warmth. Until he spotted Mabel and Dipper trotting up to them.
“Soos!” Mabel waved, hair frizzy from the humidity. “Me and Dipper versus you! Let's go!”
Dipper dragged over a small bucket of freshly filled balloons. A look of determination flashed in his eyes. “You're going down!”
The smile in Soos’ voice was almost infectious. “Watch out, dawg, those are fighting words!”
Soos was on his feet in an instant. The loss was palpable. Stan tried not to lean after him, as though he could chase after the heat that had seeped from him. Still, a smile worked its way onto Stan's face. It wasn't anything like the skin contact, but watching Soos have fun with his niblings filled with a certain warmth. He was such a good kid and such a sweetheart with them. It all felt so tooth-rottingly sweet and domestic. Maybe enough to take Stan's mind off the sun beating down on him.
A large blob of red soared through the air and landed bullseye, right in the middle of Soos’ chest. Tiny pieces of red were a mini firework show in the summer air and unleashed a torrent of water, soaking Soos’ through the front of his shirt. The dampness of the fabric turned it to a darker, messy green. Beads of water dripped down from the hem of his shirt.
“Got ‘im!” Dipper and Mabel traded high fives and shit-eating grins.
“Aw, dude, that's cheating!”
Mabel giggled. “The first rule of water balloon fights is that there are no rules!”
“That's it, you're gonna get it now!” Soos threatened playfully.
And in the next moment, Soos was hiking his shirt up his chest and over his shoulders before throwing it to the side. Stan tried not to let his eyes bug out of his skull. Because this was normal. Very, very normal. It wasn't the first time Soos had taken his shirt off around Stan. And, you know, it was hot out, and his shirt had already gotten soaked. It made sense to shed himself of it. What didn't make sense was Stan having not developed an immunity to it at this point. He had almost lost his mind when they went to the community pool earlier that Summer and had to deal with a shirtless Soos in swim trunks for the whole day. He has to focus almost solely on his favorite pool chair and getting revenge on Gideon to remain relatively sane. And Moses, when he came into his office and basically did a strip show for him, inviting Stan to take his shirt off, and draping himself tantalizingly across his desk. Stan had to keep his back to Soos the entire time or else he'd pounce the kid.
And now here Soos was again, unknowingly tempting him with the wide expanse of his back and strong, supple arms and, God, his chest. All of Soos was hot, but what really got Stan going was his chest. In particular, there was something about the divot in his chest, in between each breast. It naturally drew Stan's eye and if he weren't so worried about getting caught, he could stare at it for hours, eyes like hands as he roamed over it hungrily. If he allowed himself, he could get lost endlessly in fantasies.
Fantasies of nosing in-between Soos’ chest, nuzzling at the sweaty skin of his cleavage and feeling the fine little hairs scratching at his scruff. God, something about it just drove Stan crazy. He wanted to lick right there to taste him. Taste the sweat on his skin and moan. He'd mouth at that sweet little spot for hours if he could. He'd give Soos’ tits attention, too, sliding both hands up to palm at his breasts. Something about Soos’ chest magnetized Stan to it. It wasn't just the sweet spot in the middle, but the soft swell of both breasts. His large, dark areolas and cute inverted nipples. The way they looked just the right size for Stan to pop into his mouth and suckle. Maybe he'd kiss and nip and lick his way over to one side. He'd circle Soos’ areola with his tongue and lap at the nipple until it peaks out and hardens for him. He'd blow on it, even, just to be a tease.
Stan wondered, would Soos squirm, not knowing what to do under Stan's attention? Standing there with bitten lips and furrowed brows and clenched hands because he doesn't know what to do with himself? Would he be sensitive? God, the noises he’d make when Stan finally wrapped his lips around his puffy little nub. Something in Stan just knew Soos was vocal and would moan so loud and sweetly for him. And even if he wasn't, Stan would use every trick in the book to draw all those pretty sounds out. He'd suckle greedily around Soos as though he'd be able to draw out milk from the source. Flick at it with his tongue, circle it over and over, nibble the little nub and, fuck, maybe even take it between his dentures and grind it gently. And Soos would whine and throw his head back and his hips would involuntarily jump, humping at Stan like a good boy.
He'd give Soos’ other pec attention, too. Palm at it, squeeze it, play with it. Slowly circle the areola with a finger and push into the little divot that hid Soos’ nipple. So mean, keeping it from Stan like that. Maybe Stan would get a little mean himself. Pinching at the still-hidden bud, tweaking at it, even pulling to coax it out. The skin would constrict across Soos’ breast as his nipple popped out, all for Stan. His fingers would pinch and pull and twist harshly, grinding it between his fingers hard enough to hurt until Soos is a keening mess and his toes are curling in his sandals.
Stan would give one last suckle and kiss to the breast he was working at it before kissing and biting his way to the other, pausing to once again lap hungrily at his cleavage. He could picture himself getting distracted by it so easily. Just licking over and over. Laving his tongue over the little bristles of hair and pleasantly shuddering at the sensation. He'd have to rip himself away. Continuing ever closer to Soos’ other breast, Stan would mouth and nibble at the soft, plump skin and leave bite and suckle marks dotting the canvas of his chest. And finally, finally, he'd mouth apologetically at Soos’ swollen, puffy nipples. Sweet brushes of lips against the angry red bud that left Soos whining just for him. And Stan would whine back. Would whine as he engulfed Soos’ tit in his mouth and let his tongue worship every inch. Wanted for Soos to feel the vibrations as he hummed around his nipples, so that he knew how much Stan was getting off on this. How much Stan wanted to make him feel good. Hell, how much Stan wanted him, period.
Though maybe it'd hit Stan while he's mouthing at Soos’ sensitive nipple, practically making out with it, that this was more of a need. He needed to taste Soos’ salty sweat in his mouth and run his tongue over the supple skin. Needed to hear Soos’ soft moans grow louder as his pleasure peaked. Needed to fucking worship his tits. Sealing his lips over Soos’ nipple and suckling frantically, he'd whine as if sweet ambrosia was spilling into his mouth. And, God, was that a thought – Soos’ chest all swollen and sore with milk and so desperate to feed his Mr. Pines. Fuck, Stan wanted that so bad…!
And of course, Stan wouldn't let the other pec go ignored. It'd still be freshly slick and shining with spit. Maybe he'd be softer, teasing the puffy nipple with the pad of his thumb. Or maybe he'd be just as harsh as he was with the other. Meanly pinching the poor thing between the nails of his thumb and forefinger, twisting and tweaking it until Soos is babbling and humping him in earnest.
Would he beg Stan for more? Or would he whimper and whine, his brain turned to mush. And, oh fuck, what if Soos came just like that? Cumming untouched in his shorts and making a mess in his briefs from a bit of nookie with his boss. Acting like a whore all from Stan worshipping his tits.
“Mr. Pines!”
Stan blinked the fantasy away and the real world snapped back into place. He sat up straighter, his stomach twisting in knots and partially chasing some arousal away. His brain scrambled and latched onto a million intersecting excuses as to why he'd been daydreaming.
“Grunkle Stan, did you see us kick his butt?” Mabel called.
“No way! Mr. Pines, tell Dipper and Hambone that I won.”
Stan’s eyes fixed on Soos. His mouth fell open.
Holy fucking shit.
Soos was a vision. He was completely soaked. His dark brown hair was slick and dripping with fat droplets of water running down his forehead, face, neck, and back. Some drops had fallen into his wispy, scratchy facial hair and caught the light so prettily. Rivulets of moisture ran down to Soos’ shoulders, broad and sunkissed. And, sweet Moses, the way his chest heaved with effort. Damp and soft and perfect. Every inhale and exhale was almost hypnotic. Stan was certain of it – he was finally going insane. The way the driblets clung together the little hairs on his cleavage was too perfect. Stan could so easily imagine himself quenching his thirst by kneeling in front of Soos and lapping up the water clinging to his chest hair. He'd cling to Soos’ stomach, relishing in the coolness of his skin as both hands stroked his sides.
“Hey, Stan,” Dipper spoke up. “You alright?”
Stan shifted his attention, eyes now focused on his niblings. Dipper looked completely soaked down to the bone. Even his hat looked completely waterlogged. Dark, wet hair stuck out from the back of his hat and underneath the bill. Mabel wasn't fairing any drier. Her sweater looked much heavier on her now, and was a darker green compared to the jade color it had been in the morning. Her pink headband had been knocked askew in her now much curlier hair. They'd clearly been having a blast.
It's enough to momentarily restore Stan's sanity. His stomach dropped to his feet and a dark sensation of shame filled his chest. The last thing he wanted to fuck things up by acting like a pervert in front of his niece and nephew. Especially being a pervert towards a guy who was only ten years older than them. They didn't deserve that. They didn’t deserve to be exposed to that. And he should know damn well that Soos didn't deserve this, either.
Stan didn't know if he'd ever gotten to his feet so fast before. He'd pulled the front of his tank down to better the tent in his boxers.
“Mr. Pines?” Soos asked, and Stan could practically hear the inquisitive tilt of his head.
One hand clenched around the knob to the backdoor. The other pressed to his forehead to feign a headache. Heart beating a million miles a second and a terrible heat threatening to burn him alive.
“I think the heat’s gettin’ to me,” he croaked. “Gonna cool off inside.”
Stan caught one last glance of Soos and the kids shrugging in the yard before he slipped into the cool dark of the Shack.
A wicked witch crashes a ceremony celebrating the birth of two twin princes, bestowing a curse on the first born as punishment for not receiving an invitation. King Filbrick, not wanting the heir to his throne to be stricken with a jinx, concedes with a compromise - to instead curse his younger son, the spare.
He will fall into an eternal rest on his eighteenth birthday, and only awakened by true love's kiss.
Prince Stanley's life is full of laughter and fun for the first few years of his life, but it slowly becomes more and more bleak as realization dawns upon him that he is on borrowed time. His brother, in-between tutoring sessions and diplomacy lessons, searches endlessly through tomes in order to find a cure or reversal spell. But there is none.
Stanley does not find love in time. On the night of his birthday, despite how much his brother and mother fight to keep him awake, he falls asleep. And he never wakes up.
Days pass, then weeks, months, and years. Decades. Their father dies, and Ford ascends to the throne. He makes sure his brother is cared for in his sleep. He has long since tried to awaken his brother. He has petitioned many, far and wide, to bring his brother back through true love's kiss. It has failed every time.
King Stanford begins to lose hope. Until, one day, and laborer with a knack for all kinds of repair work is called in from a guild of tradesmen. Soos stumbles into the sleeping Prince's room, immediately bewitched by him. Ford catches him, looking between his brother and the younger man, before urging him to place a kiss on his lips.
Soos is too shy, and instead kisses him on the cheek. Ford's heart drops, but only for a moment. Even if he had kissed him properly, it likely wouldn't have worked.
And then, after four decades, he watches his twin's eyes slowly flutter open...
The bright lights inside pool out onto the front porch, haloing Soos as he stands in the doorway, leaning halfway out into the cold dark of December. The imagery catches Stan, freezes him in place as puffs of air twirls and spool into the night air. Close enough to brush over Soos’ face. His nose and cheeks sting and the chill is already seeping in through his extra layers, even through the specially made sweater Grauntie Mabel had knitted over Winter Break, but something about the way Soos looks makes Stan want to stay here for a little longer. Quiet. On the precipice of something.
Christmas wasn't alien to Stan. In fact, it wasn't something he could escape even if he tried. Almost every commercial, be it on the Network TV in Jersey or the public access channels in The Falls, was something relating to Christmas. Even before Thanksgiving, nearly every advertisement he walked past at the docks was something relating to Ol’ Saint Nick. He'd seen plenty of Christmas specials plenty of times over to get the jist of it. But, this was the first time he'd ever gotten an invite to a Christmas party.
It wasn't as though he was popular enough to get invited to any party, regardless of the purpose, back home. But apparently, months of separation and enough time for Soos to figure out what kind of pestilence Stan had that made him such a social leper wasn't enough to make Soos sick of him. In fact, Soos had hand delivered him an invitation to the Ramirez’ Christmas Eve party. Ford had been invited as well, of course, but decided to stay back to boobytrap the chimney in case Santa actually was real.
Grunkle Dipper had driven him into town, and in the quiet car ride, a mixture of emotions swirled through Stan. Nervousness made him shift in his seat. Soos’ cousins were coming into town just for the occasion, which meant a lot of people to meet. But, at least his little buddy would serve as a buffer. And despite the potential awkwardness, he was *so* looking forward to Ms. Ramirez’ cooking. In front of him, he could somehow easily imagine her mouth-watering empanadas and tamales, or her deliciously sweet pastels.
Stan leaned closer now, still slightly hypnotized by Soos’ angelic figure. He could smell the warm, savory scents billowing from within. Soos leans back just a touch. His face seems to have gotten just as red as Stan's. Maybe he's just as chilly?
It hits Stan suddenly that he should probably, you know, say something.
“Uh. Merry Christmas,” he said, then added. “Eve.”
He moved closer to– well, he's not really sure. To brush past Soos? Get closer? Hug him? But before Stan can do anything, Soos holds up a hand to stop him.
A bashful smile spreads across the younger boy's face. He averts his eyes, then points a single finger in the air, straight above his head.
Stanley blinks, brows furrowing. Slowly, he tilts his head to track Soos’ finger. His eyes follow up the doorframe, to where a sprig of mistletoe dangles from above.
“Mistletoe, dude,” Soos says, face beet red. “You know the rules.”
Stan could feign ignorance, but it's true. He knew the rules of mistletoe well. It's not like it was law, though. Nobody got held hostage until they kiss the person they accidentally bump into underneath mistletoe. Though, maybe that's what Soos was attempting by holding him up at the door. But, then again, it wasn't that Stan didn't want to kiss Soos.
It sounds kind of nice, actually.
He makes a show of crossing his arms over his chest and gives an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine, hold still.”
His heart thumps wildly in his chest as he leans even closer. He hopes Soos figures the redness of his face is the winter cold. Soos is already pretty cute as is, but he's even cuter up close. His warm chocolate eyes, the soft roundness of his baby face, the way his hair looks rufflable…! Stan angles to brush his lips against his cheek.
Only for Soos to turn his head last second and kiss him on the mouth.
Stan's mouth drops open just as Soos pulls away. He has the strange urge to press his fingers to his lips just like they do in movies. And Soos. The look on his face. Bashful, yes, but so utterly pleased with himself. Smiling to himself, eyes crinkling, eyes anywhere but Stan.
Stan's mouth opens and closes, moving around silent words.
“Oops,” Soos says, bouncing from heel to toe.
“You… You did that on purpose!”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Stan pouted, cheeks puffing out. “That didn't even count!”
“Yuh-huh!”
“Nuh-uh! It wasn't meant to be that kind of kiss. And if you're gonna kiss someone like that, it has to be longer.”
“Oh,” Soos blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
“See? This is why you need an expert like me around.”
Something in Soos’ eyes shifts, shining brighter. The look he gets when he hangs off Stan's every word. “Do you know a lot about kissing, Stanley?”
“Yup! I kiss smokin’ hot babes back home all the time.” Not entirely a lie.
“Then, um,” Soos takes a moment, fiddling with his hands. “Could you teach me?”
Stan's stomach spins. “Like, kissing practice?”
Soos nods. “For the person I really like.”
Huh. He never thought about Soos having a crush on someone else. Part of him thinks he shouldn't. Heck, he's half-expecting Pa to come walking out of the shadows to come beat the tar out of him. But, hey, he already does kissing practice with Ford. And he'd already told Soos he's like a little brother, so it's not like the kisses would mean anything. Plus, if he's been honest, Stan will take anything if it means Soos looking up at him even more.
“Sure,” he says, incredibly casually.
“Jesús!” Someone calls from inside. “You're letting the air out!”
Soos interlocks Stan's hands with his own, giving him a smile. “Let's go!”
And with that, Stan is pulled inside and enveloped with warmth.
Stan laughed out a squawk as he's chased out of the automatic door that separates the inside of the convenience store from the outside world. Tightening his beak around the crinkling plastic of a chip bag, a late summer breeze caught under his wings and he took flight. The shopkeeper barely missed him by the swing of a broom but Stan's already taken by the wind and soaring overhead, above the gray of the parking lot and into the air.
The wind whistled against his feathers and pulled slightly against the bag in his mouth. Arching himself up, he pulled his wings close to himself and dropped down, down, down. The ground and winding lake below approached blindingly just as he unfurled both wings again and glided through the air. The blue of the sky darkened and thickened with gray clouds. The water below was black and choppy, as familiar as his own feathers. A storm must have been coming in.
Stan allowed himself to drop a little lower, the river water nearly tickling his stomach. He jutted his head out, angling up so that his well-earned spoils weren't swept away.
Here, he could pretend that he was back out at sea. He could pretend that there is a constant sting of salt in every breath, that beneath him were near endless schools of tuna and sardines, that there was nothing but endless ocean before him. And that beside him in the dark water was a mirror of his own reflection.
Stan was an old bird now. Certainly far from the spring seagull he used to be. It had been, well, a long time. Many days and nights. Seasons after seasons. Waiting here for the day Ford came back. He could have moved on a while ago. A long, long while ago. But this was what they did whenever they got lost. They'd sit and call and wait until the other came for them. This was how it also had been. This was how it always would be.
Stan pulled up, flapping his wings to gain altitude. Climbing higher and higher, he thought about Ford, and the sea, and the storm, and great big waves that ate you whole. Stan had always loved the sea, but was never sure it loved him back. But he knew in his bones that it loved Ford. And he could only hope that if it really had swallowed him down, it loved him enough to let him go.
The urge to do a few loops around the waterways that lead out to the ocean nearly overtook Stan, but he brushed it off. It'll be time any day now, and Soos will need him around the nest more often.
Pigeons were typically city birds but somehow, like Stan, Soos had found his way to this sleepy town just off the Pacific, and had never really left. Now, Stan hadn't really had much experience with pigeons before, but he'd heard on the wing that they weren't exactly the most adept at building nests – to put it lightly. For some, all they really needed was three twigs and some solid ground and they were good to go. Not his Soos, though. Soos had flown all over the town, scraping up the best branches and leaves he could find. He constructed the nest to be large and sturdy, weaving twigs and grasses in any holes. He had dotted the outsides with flowers and leaves, and on the inside he had placed all the shiny, pretty things Stan scavenged just for him. Soos made it perfect. The perfect nest for their eggs—
For a second, Stan's wings faltered. The thought made Stan's heart and abdomen seize with warmth. He shook himself off. Because they weren't really their eggs. Just eggs that Stan had happened to find. And, hey, he really shouldn't be getting invested here. Not like this. He'd already claimed Soos as a mate and they had their own nest, but he was still waiting for Ford. And who knows what Ford will want to if when he does come home? Will they stay here? Will they leave, and if so, where to next? Will Ford want Soos to come? Will he feel trapped because now Stan has two more mouths to feed, because now he has to wait until they're able to fly on their own?
One side of Stan wished he hadn't taken them in, hadn't found them in the first place. The other side knew he had no choice otherwise. Something about there being only two of them made his heart ache.
Stan had found them abandoned in the underbrush. Two white little marbles spotted with flecks of brown. Chickadees, if Stan guessed correctly. Maybe they'd fallen from a nest or were desperately hidden in a panic. Or maybe Stan was just an egg thief and making something out of nothing. But he knew in his heart that he couldn't leave them there. So he did what he did with all the shiny, precious little things he finds.
He takes them home to the nest.
Having hatchlings together wasn't something they'd talked about. There wasn't really any reason to, as neither of them could actually have an egg in the first place. But then, these two, and Stan just couldn't abandon them all alone. Soos certainly hadn't had any qualms about their sudden egg acquisition, what with how he cooed and nuzzled and nibbled at Stan so happily. That night, they kept both eggs warm beneath them as they cuddled together, trilling and preening one another until they drifted to sleep.
The wind was cooler now, as light dims and clouds smother the sky. Stan rode the wind with wings outstretched, aiming for a particular pine tree. With a few mighty flaps, he slowed himself just enough to prevent himself from careening directly into a large branch. He flailed, webbed feet scrambling for purchase, before he balanced out. Really, the nest should be closer to solid ground, but the height made Soos feel safe, so as much as he hated it, Stan could live with occasionally almost eating shit on a return flight home.
A cooing noise makes him perk up and Stan flips around. His mate sits in the middle of their nest, feathers fluffed up to conserve warmth. And by the seas, is he ever a sight. Being a pigeon, Soos was naturally smaller than Stan, but he was big even for his own species. Not that Stan minded. He was a bigger bird himself, and it made him internally preen himself at how well they took care of each other. And he was so pretty, too. The night sky dark of his eyes and how they simmered so beautifully, just like stars. Voluminous feathers that spread out like dark, lapping waves down his wings. The way his lighter plumage looked more green than gray. And the shiny, iridescent green on his neck almost hypnotizes Stan, his favorite place on his mate to nuzzle and preen. All for him, in his nest, settled atop their eggs.
It took a few moments of silent staring before Stan comes back to the real world. He toddled over and finally deposited the smooth green bag from his mouth and into the nest.
“Got your favorite,” Stan leaned over to kiss Soos’ beak. “Wanted to get ya something before the kids came.”
“Oop,” Soos went wall-eyed for a second. “Uh, don't look now.”
“Oh, don't tell me…”
Stan stepped closer, craving his neck as Soos shifted his weight. And lo and behold, there they are. Two pink wriggling little things that peep incessantly. Two bulbous eyes each, still closed and leaving them blind to the world. A wide beak that seemed to jut out almost comically from their small face. Just the faintest hint at what would one day grow into brilliant black feathers.
No doubt about it. These two were fuck ugly.
“I don't remember being nearly this gross when I was their age.”
Soos tilted his head as though he'd be easier to understand from another angle. “Oh, really?”
Stan puffed out his chest feathers. “Yep. I was crowned cutest chick in the entire colony.”
“Your majesty,” Soos bowed his head, allowing Stan to lean over and nibble at his cheek. He lifted himself up a bit to get a better look himself. “... I think I looked way worse.”
That earned him another nip from Stan. “Don't say that.”
He couldn't exactly blame him for thinking that way, though. Stan hadn't had the best esteem as a chick, either. Totally cured now, though. Totally. But, hey, at least he still had a brother and his two folks. He couldn't imagine being Soos. Being so young and both his parents had already flown the coop on him. It must feel good, in some small way, to be the parent Soos never had to these chicks. And he wasn't going to be doing it alone.
“Alright, make room,” Stan sidled in beside Soos. He shifted his weight and cuddled up close to his mate, distributing his weight evenly between Soos and the chicks tucked under his feathers.
Soos closed his eyes in delight and let out long, rumbling coos. Stan did his best to mimic the sound before he nuzzled close and preened at his pretty neck, loving how Soos craned his neck for better access and puffed up his feathers.
“Think of any names?” Stan asked between nibbles.
“Something pretty,” Soos blinked, then reached over to tap at one of the shiny, swirly balls Stan had found. “Like Marble.”
“Marble,” Stan felt the name in his mouth. “Yeah, I like it.”
The wind whipped through the air, shaking the smaller branches around them and sending a chill through both of them. Slowly, fat droplets of cold rain hit them between gaps of pine needles. Soos’ feather billowed up between them and they both snuggled closer for warmth.
As the wind and rain sang them to sleep, Stan thought about stormy nights at the beach, when he was a much younger bird. He remembered his mother, and father, and brother, and their nest. The dark, stormy clouds and choppy, brackish water. The great big waves that ate you whole. The cold cruelty of the outside world and the warmth of the little world they were confined to. Two chicks and their parents and a summer storm.
Soos knows he should probably feel guilty, but he really can't bring himself to. He doesn't feel guilty when he volunteers to stay back at the Shack with Mr. Pines, still recovering after having lost all of his memories. He doesn't feel guilty as he waves the other Pineses off and watches the Stanley-mobile disappear into the distance. And he especially doesn't feel guilty as Stan drapes himself across his back, both arms curving over his stomach, and purrs into his ear.
“Alone at last.”
And Soos can't help the grin that breaks out on his face. Stan's grip is loose enough that he can turn to face the older man. He feels as Stan's strong hands run over his arms and settle over his back. And what greets him is Stan's face, absolutely lovestruck.
“There he is.” He was all lazy grins and half-lidded eyes, completely content and smitten. “Heya, handsome.”
How can Soos possibly bring himself to feel guilty over this?
So, yeah, maybe Soos told a few fibs. It was just bending the truth a little bit. If anything, Mr. Pines would be proud of him! He's taught Soos almost everything he knows, and that includes being flexible with reality. Because sometimes, you had to give the people what they wanted, even if it wasn't exactly true, and they'd be eating out of the palm of your hand. And, well, even if he kept it close to his chest, Stan wanted to be happy. Stan wanted to be wanted. Stan wanted love and affection and adulation, and Soos was more than willing to give it to him.
Stan's memory was still fuzzy, but most of the pieces were there. The puzzle that was Stan's memory was almost finished but left just enough room for Soos to shove a couple pieces in here or there. Maybe the picture ended up looking a little bit different when it was complete, but that didn't mean the finished project was any less pretty to look at, right?
It was a shock to Stan at first, but why wouldn't it be? Their relationship was very much on the D-L. Neither of them wanted to be with any drama or town gossip. Who knew how the twins or, more importantly, their parents would react? And after their disastrous reunion, Stan wasn't exactly in the mood to share the complexities of his love life to Ford. Their relationship was completely secret. Of course only Soos would know about their relationship, and he was more than happy to fill in the blanks for Stan.
Soos had been crazy about Stan for years, and he was pretty sure his boss felt the same way, but they only got together a little bit after his eighteenth birthday. Remember the day the lake finally opened for the Summer season? It ended up being an impromptu secret date when they fished with the kids until sunrise. And when Stan couldn't hold it together at Wax Stan's funeral, Soos had followed after to comfort him, hugging Stan and kissing him all over. And when Mabel faced off against Pacifica for a mini-golf rematch, he and Stan stayed together in the car, laying back and kissing underneath the stars.
It was so easy for him to convince Mr. Pines. So easy that maybe he wanted it to be true just as much as Soos did.
Soos’ heart skips a beat as Stan's hands roam upwards to link across the back of his neck. He watches his boss lean up on his tip-toes to get all the closer to him. And slowly, softly, heartwarmingly, Stan nuzzles his nose against Soos’ own.
They're so happy like this. How can Soos feel guilty about giving Stan everything he wants?
Stan's always had a protective streak. He's always liked looking out for the little guy. That is, if the little guy in particular is someone he really cares about. The most common example being his twin. For most of their young lives, they've stuck together through thick and thin. Stan's always protected the both of them from bullies and jerks, and that's the way it'd always be.
At least, that's what he thought.
Ford's been… More independent lately. Pulling away from him, almost. They haven't been working on the Stan O’ War as much, which he can kinda understand. Their folks have been hounding Ford over his future and potential colleges. Maybe he wanted to be his own man, now. And the idea of that, of Ford not really needing him anymore, left Stan floundering.
Thankfully, though, he knew he still had one person who'd always need him. Ever since they were twelve, he and Ford took a Summer trip to stay in Oregon with their Grunkle Dipper and their (surprise) Grauntie Mabel. And ever since then, Soos had been following him around like a puppy dog. Stan stood up for Soos when the younger boy felt he couldn't stand up for himself, more than willing to beat up any asshole, even Northpest, who tried to mess with him.
Stan could at least fall back on the fact that at least Soos still needed him, and nothing would change that.
And then Soos had the gall to shoot up a foot taller than him over the school year.
Now, it wasn't exactly lost on Stan that he had a thing for taller women. Hell, his first crush was the fifty-foot woman. But, it suddenly dawned on Stan that, no matter how much he tried to ignore it or repress it or insist that it wasn't true, the same went for taller guys. Soos was already cute before he'd shot past his head, but now? Just standing next to the guy was enough to leave Stan breathless.
Soos was the whole damn package. Cute, funny, tall, and a total sweetheart. And strong, too. Soos was a big teddy bear, sure, and wasn't the fighting type, but Stan could tell that despite his boxing experience, Soos might just be able to manhandle him if he wanted. And, shit, maybe that wouldn't be too bad.
But it'd also confirm his fears as true. That Stan wasn't needed anymore. Not by Ford, and not by Soos. And if he wasn't needed, he couldn't even fathom being wanted.
But, if he could somehow prove he was still stronger…
Stan waited for the perfect opportunity, when Soos was by himself, sat at one of the picnic tables near his Grunkle and Grauntie's property. He slid onto the seat opposite Soos, elbow resting on the table and flexing his fingers.
“Hey, Gumdrop. You, me, arm wrestlin'. Now.” He smirked and added. “Back home, I'm president of the Arm Wrestling Club and took our team to nationals.”
He'd never even been to nationals for boxing, and the only club he was president of was The Stanley Pines Club. He was also its only member.
Soos didn't respond, flicking his eyes from Stan's face to his open palm as if trying to think of what to say.
Stan egged him on. “Come on, I bet I can totally kick your ass.”
Soos chuckled, a bit nervous. “You're probably right. I mean, you're so strong, I'd have to, like, cheat or something. “
“C'mon, Soos! Just one round,” Stan tilted his head just so, expression coy, and maybe he might have batted his eyes at him. “For me?”
It was probably just a trick of the light, but Soos’ face went a tinge red. “Alright,” he relented, leaning forward to grip Stan's hand in his own.
God, Soos’ hands were as big as the rest of him, startlingly soft and warm. It was almost disarming.
Almost.
Stan steeled himself and tightened his clasp in Soos’ own. He was gonna win this thing. He was gonna prove he was still needed.
“Three, two, one…!”
God, Stan was right. Soos was strong. He was putting his all into it, feeling the burn of his muscles as he fought not to send Soos’ arm flat against the tabletop, but to even just keep his own upright. He grit his teeth, brows furrowed in concentration as he locked eyes with Soos – the sudden eye contact making his arm go back, almost dangerously close to the wooden tabletop. A swell of pride filled Stan's chest. He was so close to victory, he could almost taste it! He'd show Soos that he was still useful, that he could still protect him, that he was still needed–!
Soos suddenly lunged with his free hand, fisting tight into the white fabric Stan's shirt. Stan was hefted so strongly towards him that he was nearly lifted out of his seat. Before Stan could even think, could even process it, Soos planted a kiss right on his lips.
His eyes went wide as saucers. His arm went limp – no, his entire body became jello. Soos’ little facial hairs scratched against his face. His face was screwed up, like he was putting everything into the kiss. And like it was nothing, he pinned Stan's arm to the table.
Soos parted, sliding back into his seat, but Stan couldn't bring himself to move for a moment. He didn't even lift his arm from off the table. He blinked. Blinked again. And with his other hand, he ran a finger across his bottom lip, still feeling the ghost of the kiss.
“Heh,” Soos tapped his pointer fingers together. “Told you I couldn't win without cheating.”
Behind his hand, a smile bloomed across Stan's face. “Ya little sneak! I can't believe you!”
Maybe he didn't have to be needed, after all. Maybe, Stanley could actually be wanted, too.
“Alright, that's it! Rematch.” Stan reset his position, waggling his fingers invitingly.
“No cheating this time?” Soos asked, taking Stan's hand in his own.
Stan's eyes locked onto the other teen's lips. “Wanna bet?”
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