Here's an idea! It's one of the hottest summer days in Gravity Falls and Danny and Daisy leave to do some business at the golf course, taking a wagon full of supplies. Stan and Angie just assume they're off to collect golf balls. But when they go to bring them home for lunch, they find their daughters conning rich people out of their money selling expensive "homemade lemonade and cookies" to customers. Hiding the store packaging in a bag. Stan looks on with pride, while Angie is flabbergasted!
Sorry it took me a hot minute, but here it is! Hope it's to your specifications! And I'm now officially done with the prompts in my inbox!
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The bell over the Gift Shop door jingled. Without looking up from the money he was counting at the register, Stan spoke.
“Gift Shop’s closed fer lunch.”
“It ain’t closed fer yer wife now, is it?” Stan looked up. Angie stood in the doorway. “If it is, we might have to have a chat or two ‘bout shared property.”
“The Gift Shop’s never closed fer you,” Stan confirmed. Angie stepped inside and let the door close behind her.
“Good.”
“I mean, you’ve got a key.”
“Stan.”
“Of course, if ya let me teach you how to pick a lock, ya wouldn’t need one.”
“Stan.” Angie rolled her eyes. “Enough with the lock pickin’. And don’t think I ain’t aware that you’ve already taught not just the girls, but the boys, too, how to do it.”
“Who snitched?” Stan asked. Angie crossed her arms.
“No one. I caught Emmett tryin’ to get into the gun safe. I figured if ya taught him, ya had to teach the others, too.” Angie sighed. “I didn’t ground him, but I did tell him to spread word to his siblin’s that they’re not s’pposed to use those lock pickin’ skills to get around our house rules.”
“It’s not like groundin’ would do anything,” Stan muttered under his breath. He put the cash back into the register. “Kid barely leaves the house.” Angie walked over and punched his arm. “Ow.”
“Oh, pish posh, that didn’t hurt ya.”
“Physically, no. Emotionally…” Stan said slowly. Angie snickered quietly. Seizing the opportunity, Stan flung his arm across his face dramatically. “Punched in my best arm by my own wife! I don’t think I’ll ever recover!” Angie’s snickering became full-on laughter.
“Dork,” she said, once she was finished laughing. Stan winked at her.
“Yer dork.”
“Yes, yes, yer my dork.” Angie kissed Stan on the cheek. “But seriously, try to be a bit more supportive of Emmett, okay? I know he’s a bit odd and anxious, but he’s a good kid. And he’s been tryin’ to be more outgoin’ lately. Or did ya forget that he and Emory are out at another kid’s house?”
“I know. That’s why I had to put Soos on register this mornin’.” Stan frowned. “Where are the girls, again?”
“The golf course.”
“Why? I thought we raised ‘em better than to spend time ‘round rich people,” Stan said. Angie shrugged.
“They’re collectin’ golf balls. There’s good money in resellin’ ‘em if ya retrieve ‘em from sand traps ‘n ponds ‘n whatnot.”
“Huh.” Stan nodded slowly. “Good. I knew those two were smart.”
“All the kids are smart.” Angie checked her watch. “Speakin’ of the girls, I figured we’d drop some lunch off fer ‘em. Don’t want ‘em to use their hard-earned money on junk food or somethin’.”
“It’s their money, they can spend it on what they want.”
“We have perfectly fine food at home. They shouldn’t spend money to buy ice cream from the lil shop across the street,” Angie said firmly. Stan raised an eyebrow.
“There’s an ice cream shop across the street from the golf course?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s get goin’.” Stan grabbed his car keys. Angie sighed. “Ang, we’ve been over this. I can be immature as long as I’m technically still more mature than the kids.”
“I hate when ya nickel ‘n dime stuff like this,” Angie muttered. Stan kissed her forehead.
“Don’t act like yer not in the mood fer ice cream, too.”
“…Maybe,” Angie conceded. Stan waggled his eyebrows at her. “All right, we can get ice cream.”
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When the Stanleymobile turned onto the street the golf course was on, they immediately saw the line.
“What the hell?” Stan muttered. “Is golf really that popular here?”
“Given how long we’ve lived in Gravity Falls, I think we’d know if golf was the most popular pastime fer folks,” Angie said. “There’s got to be some other reason folks are lined up like that.” She leaned forward. “Looks like the crowd’s in the parkin’ lot. Ya best park at the ice cream shop.”
“Gladly.” Stan turned into the ice cream shop’s parking lot, came to a stop, and turned off the car. He looked at a poster on the outside of the shop, advertising a new flavor. “They’ve got yer favorite flavor, Ang.”
“Really?!” Angie looked over. She gasped. “Places almost never have peaches ‘n cream!”
“So we’re definitely stoppin’ after we give the girls their lunch?”
“Oh, definitely,” Angie said firmly. She and Stan got out of the car. Angie grabbed the bag lunches before closing the passenger side door. Stan looked across the street. Now that they were closer, he could see the cause of the crowd. There was some sort of stand set up in the parking lot.
“What’s that stand sellin’ and where do I get some cheap?” he asked idly. Angie rolled her eyes.
“You sell more ‘n enough as is.”
“We’ve got smart kids that need to go to college.”
“Yes, and ‘cause they’re smart, they’ll get scholarships. Like I did.” Angie began to walk away. “Or did ya forget?” she called over her shoulder. Stan jogged briefly to catch up with her.
“I know they’ll get scholarships, but you gotta be prepared for everything,” he said. “The kids sometimes have issues in school. What if they lose their scholarships over that?”
“By the time college comes ‘round, they’ll be better equipped to handle what causes issues fer ‘em,” Angie said.
“Yeah, but-” Stan came to a sudden stop. He’d heard a familiar voice. He looked at Angie. Judging by her expression, she’d heard the same thing. “Are ya sure the girls wanted to come here to collect golf balls?”
“They didn’t actually tell me what they were doin’. I assumed.”
“Ya know what they say about assumin’,” Stan muttered. The familiar voice from before carried above the chatter of the crowd.
“That’ll be five dollars, thank you, sir.”
“They’re not collectin’ golf balls,” Angie said quietly.
“Not unless somethin’ stole Daisy’s voice like when I got my face stolen that one time.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Angie sighed. “Should we get in line?”
“What? No! We’re their parents. That makes us VIPs,” Stan said firmly. He grabbed Angie’s free hand and pulled her through the crowd, ignoring people scolding them for cutting ahead. When they got to the stand, they could see it was surprisingly well-made. A sign at the top read “D&D’s Homestyle Treats”. And behind the stand stood their thirteen-year-old twin daughters, Danny and Daisy.
“Uh-oh,” Danny mumbled quietly. Daisy, however, grinned toothily.
“Hi Ma! Hi Dad! Do you want some homemade stuff?” she asked. Angie crossed her arms.
“Homemade?”
“Yep!”
“I don’t recall ya makin’ lemonade ‘n cookies at home ‘fore ya left.”
“You’re getting older, maybe you’re forgetting,” Daisy suggested. Danny gasped. She punched her twin’s shoulder.
“Daisy don’t say somethin’ so rude!”
“What? It’s true. Anyways, Ma and Dad, could we have this conversation a bit away from our customers?”
“Smart,” Stan said with a nod. He and Angie walked a few feet away. Danny carefully placed a sign that said “Back in ten minutes” on the stand, then she and Daisy joined their parents. “All right you two. Spill.”
“We’re just bein’ entrepreneurs like you raised us,” Danny said. Angie frowned at her. “What?”
“Are ya actually sellin’ homemade goods?”
“Uh, no,” Daisy said. “They’re store-bought.”
“Then why are ya claimin’ it’s homemade?”
“There’s better money in it,” Daisy said simply. Stan nodded again.
“Smart,” he repeated. Angie gave him a look. “What? It is! I think we should be proud of the girls fer bein’ so savvy.”
“I-” Angie kneaded her forehead. “I didn’t raise y’all to lie.”
“Too bad,” Daisy said with a shrug. “Dad did.”
“We’re not completely lying,” Danny put in. “There’s an asterisk on the sign after the word ‘homemade’ and if anyone asks we’ll tell ‘em the truth. We’re also saying the asterisk out loud, but since asterisks don’t make sounds, they can’t hear it.”
“Heh!” Stan grabbed his daughters and gave them affectionate noogies. “That’s my girl! Havin’ a way out on a technicality! I’m so proud of you two!”
“It…is very clever,” Angie said slowly. She sighed. “Did yer Uncle Fidds help ya set up the stand?”
“Yep!” Daisy chirped.
“Where is he?”
“The ice cream shop across the street. Don’t worry, he’s been keepin’ an eye on us,” Danny said. Angie nodded.
“Good. Good. I’m fine with the two of ya doin’ things unsupervised, but even in Gravity Falls, I feel more comfortable knowin’ yer sellin’ stuff to strangers if’n ya have someone we trust nearby to watch ya.”
“Especially in Gravity Falls,” Stan corrected his wife. “Or did you forget when the gnomes tried to kidnap Danny?” Danny shuddered.
“Stupid weird little men,” she muttered. Angie sighed again.
“All right, all right. I’ll let this slide. You two can go back to makin’ money by lyin’.”
“We did learn it from Dad,” Daisy pointed out.
“That’s precisely why I’m lettin’ it slide.” Angie smiled fondly. “Ya best get back ‘fore yer customers get impatient.” Stan let Danny and Daisy loose. “First, take yer lunches.” Angie handed over the lunch bags. The girls quickly gave each parent a hug before scurrying back to their stand. Stan looked at Angie.
“Yer proud of ‘em. I can tell.”
“I can’t deny that you were right ‘bout this bein’ savvy behavior,” Angie said. “Thinkin’ things through like this will help get ‘em far in life.” Stan put his arm around Angie’s shoulders.
Hi, to contribute to the HMU on the original Stanley McGucket, one thing in the sequel that I would like more light on is Fidds reintegrating with the family after escaping his cult. Especially Fidds with the kids. I remember liking an older short in the same verse with Danny time traveling and running into Fidds, I'd love more interactions between Fidds and his son, nieces & nephew. Both before and after the memory gun problem.
So...I got this ask over a year ago. I planned on doing a write for it, but that plan fell to the wayside after I got busy with other things. But then I felt like I wanted to do something for the 10 year Gravity Falls anniversary, and I felt like revisiting my OG AU, the Stanley McGucket AU, would be a good way to do so.
Anon, it took a year, but I finally wrote up some Fidds interacting with his nieces. Hope you enjoy it.
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Fiddleford carefully screwed the last screw in. He slapped the side of the air conditioning unit. With a shudder, it came back to life. Fiddleford sighed in relief and tucked his screwdriver into his back pocket.
‘Bout time. Summer’s comin’ up. Can’t have folks sweatin’ in the roadside attraction Stan decided to run fer some reason. He scowled. No, don’t think so negatively. His business is what enabled him and Angie to take care of Tate fer so long. In fact, Tate had only moved back in with Fiddleford last month, after Fiddleford managed to find a place and prove he could maintain it to Angie’s standards.
“Uncle Fidds?” Fiddleford turned around. Danny, the older of his eight-year-old twin nieces, stood before him. He smiled politely. Similar to how he had only just gotten custody of Tate again, he hadn’t been allowed to be around his nieces or nephews if they were alone until he stopped having his memory lapses. His nieces in particular were still getting used to him, so he felt the need to be on his best uncle behavior around them.
“Did ya want somethin’ from me, honey?” he asked. Danny clasped her hands in front of her.
“Daddy wants to know if the air conditioner is fixed yet,” she said dutifully. Fiddleford nodded.
“Sure is!”
“Oh, wow.” Danny’s rich brown eyes, which she had inherited from her father, widened. “Daddy’s been shouting at it for weeks and you got it fixed so fast!”
“Why didn’t he ask fer professional help sooner, if it’s been causin’ trouble fer so long?” Fiddleford asked. Danny shrugged.
“Daddy says he doesn’t wanna spend money on somethin’ he can do himself.”
“He still could’ve called me fer help. I’m more ‘n happy to do this work fer free. It’s the least I can do after yer parents took in Tate while I was…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Is yer dad plannin’ on payin’ me, then?”
“Mama wants to. Daddy doesn’t.”
“Sounds about right,” Fiddleford muttered to himself. One of the things Stan and Angie frequently butted heads over was Angie’s insistence on paying for things, versus Stan’s desire to spend as little money as possible. “Well, you can tell yer dad I don’t want to be paid. You can also tell ‘im that if yer ma tries to pay me, I’ll send the cash back.” Danny nodded. She cocked her head in a manner exactly like Angie.
“How’d you fix it?” she asked slowly.
“First, what I did was-” Fiddleford started. He cut himself off, an idea coming to him. “Do ya want me to tell ya or show ya?” Danny bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly.
“Both, please!” Danny paused. “Unless it ruins all yer work.”
“Aw.” Fiddleford gave her an affectionate noogie. Her hair wasn’t nearly as curly as her twin sister’s, but it was just as thick, catching on his fingers. He extracted his fingers carefully to avoid tugging. “Sweet potata, I already fixed it once. I can fix it again just as easy.” Danny beamed. Fiddleford took his screwdriver out of his pocket.
“That’s a screwdriver, right?” Danny blurted out.
“Yup. Want to look closer?”
“Yes!” Fiddleford handed his screwdriver to his niece. Danny looked it over with a careful eye.
A future engineer’s eye. Fiddleford could feel his heart swelling with pride. She’s always liked takin’ things apart and puttin’ ‘em back together. And the things she’s built with her blocks, why, they’re on par with what an adult could do.
“I thought screwdrivers had X’s on the point,” Danny said slowly.
“We call that kind of screwdriver a Phillips head screwdriver. What ya got right there is a regular ole screwdriver, so it’s a bit different. They work the same way, they just use dif’rent kinds of screws.”
“Oh. Okay!” Danny handed the screwdriver back to Fiddleford.
“Any other questions ‘fore we start?” Fiddleford asked. Danny shook her head. “Then I’ll go ahead and get started.”
Fiddleford had managed to re-break the air conditioner and was halfway through fixing it again when his impromptu lecture was interrupted by the arrival of Danny’s twin, Daisy.
“Daddy wants to know if the air conditioner’s fixed,” Daisy said dully. She stared at the partially disassembled air conditioner. “Guess not.”
“Oh, I fixed it,” Fiddleford said. Daisy blinked.
“But you’re still doing stuff,” she pointed out. She gasped. “Are you making it better? Like in Mama’s stories?” Fiddleford chuckled.
“Nope, I ain’t soupin’ it up like when I tried to upgrade things ‘round the house as a kidlet.”
“Oh, boo.” Daisy pouted. “Mama said you got fire to come from the sink instead of water.”
“Do ya want somethin’ like that?” Fiddleford asked. Daisy shrugged.
“Sometimes.”
She must get those tendencies from Stan. Angie was never destructive on purpose, she just was energetic and clumsy. Daisy seems like she wouldn’t mind burnin’ down the house just ‘cause she’s bored. Fiddleford smiled fondly. Lord above, Stan and Angie are goin’ to have their hands full when Daisy takes her first chemistry course.
“If you fixed it, why are you still doing things to it?” Daisy asked.
“I broke it again so’s I could show yer sister how to fix it.”
“Huh.” Daisy frowned thoughtfully. Her eyes, blue like Angie’s, lit up. “Can I watch, too?”
“Are ya sure?” Fiddleford asked. “I didn’t think ya had an interest in machinery like yer sister.”
“Nah.” Daisy sat down on the floor next to her twin. “But this is more interestin’ than playing with my brothers or helping Daddy.”
“You like helping Daddy,” Danny said. Daisy shrugged.
“With the taxid- tax- taxider-” She grunted in frustration.
“Taxidermy,” Fiddleford supplied. Daisy nodded.
“That. I like that. Daddy’s not doing it right now, though. He’s counting money.”
“That’s an important part of ownin’ a business, keepin’ track of what comes in,” Fiddleford said. Daisy rolled her eyes.
“Yeah. But it’s boring. This sounds better.” She grinned, the gap from her most recently lost baby tooth on full display. “Machines stink, but I like you, Uncle Fidds. You’re weird.” Fiddleford smiled.
Anyways, the book series that inspired my Superhero/villain AU actually had a new installment published recently. When I started reading the newest book, I remembered that the original way I envisioned my Superhero/villain AU lined a bit more with that book series, with Stan finding out he’s got kids after said children have been born. And I got inspired to write something for that original version. So here is...far too much of that. Enjoy.
On the doorstep of a house he’d never been to before, Stan groaned loudly. He looked over at Ford.
“Why am I here, Sixer?”
“It’s Fiddleford’s birthday,” Ford replied, ringing the doorbell.
“Yeah, he’s your boyfriend. Not mine. Why did you drag me here and threaten to teleport me back if I tried to run?”
“His family wishes to meet you.”
“That’s not how it goes. You’re supposed to meet his family, he’s supposed to meet yours, and I don’t meet his until the wedding,” Stan said firmly.
“Yes, well, his family is rather unconventional,” Ford said. “They were very insistent upon meeting my twin brother. Particularly Fiddleford’s younger siblings. They’re twins themselves.”
“Ford-”
“You’ll get free food if you stay,” Ford said flatly. Stan crossed his arms.
“…Fine. I’ll stay. But only for the food.”
“That is the precise reason I mentioned it, Stanley.” Ford looked at him. “By the way, before we go inside-”
“If we go inside,” Stan grumbled. “Why are they taking so long to answer the door?”
“-I should warn you about Fiddleford’s younger sister,” Ford said, ignored his interruption. “She has two young daughters who, from what I understand, can be rather chaotic. I’ve told you everyone in the McGucket family has powers, correct?”
“Yeah,” Stan grunted.
“Her daughters are no exception, and they inherited elemental abilities, so their powers manifested early. Just…stay on your toes, okay? I’m sure it will be fine, but don’t be too startled by them.” Stan huffed. Ford sighed. “What?”
“There aren’t even any cute chicks to hit on here, are there?”
“Stanley.”
“I mean, you said Fiddledork’s younger sister has kids, so she’s married. Or at least dating someone.”
“No, she isn’t, actually. She’s a single mother,” Ford said. Stan nodded slowly.
“I can work with that.”
“Stanley, please don’t hit on my boyfriend’s family,” Ford hissed. The door opened, revealing Fiddleford. Fiddleford beamed.
“Howdy!” he chirped.
“Fiddleford, happy birthday!” Ford said cheerfully. Stan said nothing. Ford elbowed him roughly.
“Yeah, happy birthday, whatever,” Stan muttered. Fiddleford looked askance at Ford.
“He’s not pleased that I brought him with me.”
“Ah. Well, my folks are excited to meet you,” Fiddleford said to Stan. Stan grunted in response. “Come on in, we’ve got cake and-”
“Fidds, she’s makin’ a break fer it!” a voice shouted. Something short and dark-haired shot past Fiddleford and out the door. Instinctively, Stan grabbed whatever it was before it could escape. He stared down at the young girl, no older than four, whom he was holding by her shirt. She scowled at him and burst into flames. Ford jumped back, startled. Stan raised an eyebrow at her.
“You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?” he asked. The girl’s scowl deepened.
“No, ‘m Daisy!” she said, stomping her foot.
“Nope. You’re a firecracker. You’re too little to be a full firework,” Stan retorted. The girl – Daisy – furrowed her brow, visibly confused.
“You’re not hurt,” she said quietly. Stan ignited his hair. He could hear Ford grumbling something, but didn’t care. Daisy was now staring up at him with rapt attention, her eyes wide. “Like me,” she whispered. Something in Stan crumbled. Giving in, he got down on his knees and grinned.
“Yep. I’m a pyro, too.” Still aflame, Daisy beamed. Someone cleared their throat. Stan looked over. Fiddleford still stood in the doorway, but now someone else was behind him. A short, young woman with a carefully guarded expression. Something about her hair, caramel-colored and cut to a short bob, seemed strangely familiar to Stan. For a moment, he attempted to remember where he might have met her.
Eh. Probably nothing. It’s just that she and Daisy look alike. She’s probably the kid’s mom. They had the same, large distinct nose. The same nose that Fiddleford had.
“Stanley, thank you fer grabbin’ my niece,” Fiddleford said. “She’s a bit speedy.”
“No problem. I don’t get to meet many other pyros,” Stan replied. Fiddleford frowned thoughtfully.
“Yes, it’s obvious now that yer a pyrokinetic. I didn’t know that.”
“Really?” Stan asked. Fiddleford shook his head.
“Honestly, I didn’t think ya had powers at all.”
“Rude,” Stan muttered. The woman standing behind Fiddleford pushed ahead of him and held out her hand for Stan to shake.
“Thank you fer catchin’ Daisy. I was dealin’ with her twin sister and she slipped away. The name’s Angie.”
“Stan,” Stan said, shaking the offered hand. “I’m Ford’s twin brother.” Angie knelt down and reached out her arms to pick Daisy up. “Uh, I wouldn’t do that. I’m immune to my fire and fire made by other pyros, but unless you’re a pyro too-”
“Ain’t no problem,” Angie said. A strong gust of wind blew past, putting out not only Daisy but also Stan’s hair. Angie picked Daisy up and set her on her hip. “I can put out fires pretty easily, ain’t that right, muffin?” Angie said playfully, poking Daisy’s nose. Daisy giggled. Angie looked at Fiddleford. “We should prob’ly let these guests of yours inside ‘fore any other children escape.” Stan and Ford followed the McGuckets inside.
“Are there other children here?” Ford asked.
“Nah, just Angie’s sweet lil babies,” Fiddleford replied. “I don’t think we’d be able to handle any children in addition to Danny ‘n Daisy.” He looked over at his niece. “Though mostly it’s Daisy who’s causin’ trouble.” Daisy covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Stan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He glanced at Ford, who had gone pale as well.
That kid’s not just a pyro, she’s a polydactyl. The hand covering Daisy’s mouth had six fingers instead of five. This family is fucking weird.
“You- um-” Ford stammered. Angie and Fiddleford stopped to look at him.
“Yes?” Fiddleford asked. Ford swallowed.
“You didn’t mention that your niece was a polydactyl.”
“Didn’t think it was relevant,” Fiddleford said with a shrug. Ford frowned at him. “What?”
“Fiddleford, you didn’t think I might be interested in that?” Ford hissed, holding up his hands. Daisy gaped.
“Twelve!” she shouted eagerly. Daisy held her own hands up. “Eleven!” Ford smiled weakly at her.
“That’s correct. I have twelve fingers and you have eleven,” he said softly. One of Daisy’s hands had five fingers, while the other had six. Daisy grinned. Fiddleford was now frowning thoughtfully. Stan could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He looked at Angie, who quickly glanced away from him.
“Well, at least you know now,” Fiddleford said after a moment. “C’mon, we still haven’t reached the living room!” Fiddleford set off, Angie, Stan, and Ford close behind.
When they arrived in the living room, Stan was immediately met with a blast of cold air to his left side. He turned in that direction. An older couple was trying to calm down a girl that seemed to be Daisy’s age. The girl was sobbing uncontrollably, her hands covering her face. Ice spread from where she was sitting.
What the fuck is happening?
“Oh, dear,” Angie said under her breath. She handed Daisy to Stan and quickly strode over to the other girl. “Danny, sweetie, it’s okay. I’m here.”
“Mama!” the girl – Danny – wailed, wrapping her arms around Angie’s torso. Stan looked down at Daisy in his arms. She grinned at him. Stan looked at Fiddleford.
“Uh, why did your sister give me her kid?” Stan asked dumbly.
“Most likely because you were the closest,” Ford said, answering for Fiddleford. “I doubt you need to keep holding her. You can probably set her down.” He looked at Fiddleford as well. “Right?” Fiddleford, who once again had a studious expression, startled.
“Pardon?” he asked.
“Your sister gave her daughter to Stanley to hold. He can set her down, right?”
“Sure, sure,” Fiddleford said. Relieved, Stan set Daisy on the floor. “Sorry ‘bout all this chaos. I knew it would be a bit of a mess if I invited Angie’s daughters to come, but I couldn’t help it. I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with ‘em.”
“It’s fine,” Ford said. “It’s your party, after all.” He held out the present that Stan had wrapped before they left. “Here’s your gift, by the way.”
“Oh, thank you!” Fiddleford said, taking the box. “And it’s wrapped so nicely!”
“That’s all me,” Stan said. “Ford couldn’t wrap to save his life.”
“Well, thank you both, then,” Fiddleford said, beaming. He seemed to have abandoned whatever he’d been thinking about so intently before. “Stanley, I should introduce you to the rest of my fam’ly-” Stan felt something tug on his pants.
“Mister?” a small voice said. Stan looked down. It was the girl that had been crying earlier, Danny. She stared up at him. Something uncomfortable began to uncurl in Stan’s gut. “You can fire?”
“Uh…” Stan could only stare numbly at Danny as he picked up on facial features he recognized intimately. A large, ruddy nose. Chubby, rosy cheeks. Wide, familiar brown eyes. Danny blinked at him.
“Daisy says you fire,” Danny said firmly.
“Um, yeah, I- I fire,” Stan finally said. Danny’s eyes sparkled.
“Show?” she asked timidly. Daisy promptly appeared by Stan’s side so quickly that it almost seemed like Ford had teleported her.
“Yeah, I can- I can show you,” Stan said. He looked more closely at Daisy now, remembering that Angie had mentioned they were twins. Daisy looked very similar to Angie, but with thick, rambunctious dark curls. Curls that Stan could distinctly remember his mom struggling with and swearing over any time they had to dress up nice.
“Show,” Daisy prompted. Stan realized he hadn’t done anything other than stare at her, despite promising to show off his abilities.
“Um. Yeah. Yeah.” Stan knelt to the girls’ eye-height and held out his hands facing up. Flames manifested above his open palms. “You- you girls have a favorite color?” Stan asked weakly, still reeling but trying not to let it show.
“White,” Daisy said.
“Red,” Danny said, more quietly than her twin.
“White and red coming right up.” The flames formed into two spheres, one per hand, floating about an inch or so above Stan’s skin. The sphere closest to Daisy paled until it was as white as the ice Danny had produced earlier, while the sphere by Danny darkened to a ruby red. Danny and Daisy clapped their hands. Stan grinned at their sweet enthusiasm.
“Mama, can I do that?” Daisy asked, looking over at Angie. Stan decided not to look at her, still struggling with the implications of his observations.
“Maybe someday, sweetie,” Angie said softly.
“Can do something else?” Danny asked Stan.
“Uh, whattaya wanna see?” Stan asked her. Danny frowned thoughtfully.
“No, let’s- let’s leave Stanley alone,” Fiddleford interrupted. “He’s not here to entertain you two, he’s here as a guest.” Stan extinguished his flames and stood to his full height, still avoiding eye contact with Angie.
“That’s a very good point,” piped up a man standing nearby. He looked like Fiddleford, but shorter and with dark hair. “I’m here to entertain you two.”
“Lute…” Fiddleford sighed. Lute just grinned at Fiddleford, then gestured for Danny and Daisy to follow him.
“C’mon, kidlets, let’s find us somethin’ to do,” Lute said breezily. He walked out of the room, Danny and Daisy scampering after him.
I need a few minutes to myself, this is getting disturbing.
“Where’s the john?” Stan asked.
“Oh, it’s-” Fiddleford started.
“Please, Fiddleford, let me,” Ford interrupted. “It’s your birthday. I can show Stanley where the bathroom is.”
“O-okay,” Fiddleford said. Ford set off. Stan quickly followed him. Once they were far enough from the living room that they wouldn’t be easily heard, Ford came to a stop. He spun around to glare at Stan.
“What the hell was that?” he hissed at Stan. Stan held up his hands.
“Don’t look at me, I didn’t come here to distract two ankle-biters!”
“No, not-” Ford closed his eyes. “I saw how you were looking at them. You see it, too.”
“…See what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Stanley. They don’t just look like Angie. They look like you.”
“Who?”
“I’m not joking,” Ford said, his voice almost a growl. “Danny and Daisy. Angie’s daughters. Daisy clearly inherited your abilities, while Danny- no one outside of our family has that nose.”
“Maybe they’re Shermie’s, or yours.”
“Shermie’s been married for five years, they’re clearly younger than five.” Stan opened his mouth. “Don’t you dare suggest Shermie would cheat, you know he’s not the type.”
“They could be yours,” Stan repeated. Ford glared at him. “Right. You’re gay.” Stan leaned against the wall and put his face in his hands. “Fine, fine. They’re- they’re obviously mine. But I don’t know how!”
“I know we never got proper sex ed, but-”
“No, not- I know where babies come from, Stanford, I’m not an idiot,” Stan snapped. “I just- I don’t remember having sex with Fiddleford’s sister.”
“You have a lot of one-night-stands.”
“Yeah, but I remember all of ‘em. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to avoid them at the grocery store. And I don’t remember Angie.” There was a pause.
“I don’t have any answers for you, Stanley.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Stan let his hands fall from his face. “I don’t wanna go back in that room.”
“I don’t want you in there, either,” Ford said firmly. Stan frowned at him. “Today’s Fiddleford’s birthday. I haven’t been able to spend much quality time with him lately, so I want this to go well. It won’t go well if his family connects the same dots we have.”
“Yeah, I think it’s too late for that. Fiddlesticks was obviously thinking pretty hard.”
“Yes, but his family members wouldn’t have gotten a good look at you yet.”
“So, what, you want me to leave?” Stan asked. Ford nodded. Stan scoffed. “Really. You said you would teleport me back if I tried to leave.”
“That was before I knew you had a one-night-stand with Fiddleford’s younger sister and sired two children. It would be for the best if you went back to our place.”
“Fine. What are you gonna tell his family?”
“I don’t know.” Ford frowned thoughtfully. “You just asked to go to the bathroom…I could say you developed horrible diarrhea and had to go home.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Stan hissed. “Don’t say that!”
“Why not? It makes sense.”
“No it- I don’t want anyone to know I’ve got the shits.”
“But you don’t,” Ford said slowly.
“I-” Stan shook his head. “I’m not gonna have this argument again. Look, just say that something came up and I had to go home.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know, maybe I had to go into work or run an errand I forgot about. Just say anything that doesn’t have to do with me getting sick, okay?”
“All right, but the lie will fall apart the second someone asks for more information.”
“If Fiddlesticks’ family is anything like him, they won’t question it. Just- go. I’ll see you back home.” Ford nodded and went back to the living room. As quietly as he could, Stan made a break for the front door. His hand was on the knob when he heard a noise. He turned around. It was Lute, holding the hands of Danny and Daisy. Lute looked at him.
“Why the sudden exit?” Lute asked.
“Something- something came up, I gotta go,” Stan fibbed. Lute searched Stan’s face. His eyes widened with realization. “Uh, see ya.” Stan tore the door open and ran out of the house.
“Hey!” Lute shouted after him. At the end of the driveway, Stan burst into flames and took off. As he flew over the house, he could see Lute in the front yard, looking up at him.
The further away he flew, the more his heartrate slowed. The fifteen-minute drive was only about three minutes flying. Stan quickly landed in the backyard of the house he and Ford were renting, then shut off his flames. He collapsed onto the ground, his mind racing.
Well, that wasn’t the worst way I’ve ever exited a party.
-----
Stan looked at the text conversation again, to make sure he was in the right place.
“Stanford gave me your number. This is Fiddleford’s younger sister Angie. From the party yesterday?”
“Yeah. I remember you.”
“Meet me at Café à la Mode at noon.”
“OK. See you then.” Café à la Mode was off the beaten path, so it wasn’t very busy. However, it had the general aesthetic of the trendy cafés Stan hated just walking by.
But when the chick who might be your baby momma asks you to meet her, you meet her. Stan swallowed. Even if you still don’t remember actually having sex with her. In an attempt to avoid as much of the hipster material as he could, Stan had bought a small black coffee and chose a table outside, away from the indie music playing inside.
“Sorry I’m late,” a voice said. Stan looked up from his cellphone. Angie took a seat across from him. “Danny’s goin’ through a clingy phase right now. It was difficult to get away from her.”
“No problem,” Stan mumbled. He cleared his throat. “What- what’s Danny short for?”
“Danica,” Angie replied.
“Good,” Stan said. Angie frowned. “I mean- I thought it was short for Danielle, which I don’t like as much as Danica.”
“Ah. Well. I liked the sound of it.” Angie took a breath. “Speakin’ of the girls…”
“Are they mine?” Stan blurted out. Angie closed her eyes. “I’m not a genius like my brother, but I’m not an idiot, either. They’re mine, right? Daisy’s a pyro. I asked Ford. He said that pyrokinesis doesn’t run in your family. And Danny’s-”
“Stanley.”
“Call me Stan.”
“…Okay. Stan.” Angie opened her eyes. “Yes. They are yours.” Stan’s heart plummeted to his feet.
“I have two kids?” he whispered. Angie nodded. “I-” Stan swallowed. “Good,” he repeated. Angie managed a small smile. “Look. I’m not trying to insult you – it wouldn’t be smart to insult the lady who had my kids. But I told Ford this and he can’t keep a secret, so it’ll come out at some point, so…” Stan took a breath. “I don’t remember sleeping with you.” He winced, ready for the tongue lashing he was about to receive.
“I figured,” Angie said. Stan stared at her.
“Wait, what?”
“I figured you didn’t remember sleepin’ with me…” Angie met Stan’s eyes determinedly. “Flamethrower.” Stan’s heart skyrocketed back to his throat. He took a sip of his coffee to soothe his nerves.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said calmly.
“C’mon, Stan,” Angie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you recognize me?” Her southern accent was gone. She twirled one thin, elegant finger. A breeze ruffled Stan’s hair. “I know you saw me put out Daisy yesterday. Don’t you remember all the times I did the same thing to you?” The sip of coffee was threatening to come back up.
“Sirocco,” Stan choked out. Angie nodded.
“You don’t remember knockin’ boots with Angie McGucket, ‘cause ya didn’t.” Her southern accent had returned. “You did it with Sirocco.”
“You’re- you-” Stan stammered. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Angie folded her hands in her lap, waiting patiently. “How’d you figure out I was Flamethrower, though?”
“When I met Stanford, I caught on pretty quickly that somethin’ was fishy. Not only is Daisy a polydactyl like him, but he and Danny look awful similar. Of course, I knew that Stanford wasn’t Flamethrower. He wasn’t a pyro. Not to mention, he’s gay.”
“Yeah. He can’t even pretend to like women. Not well, at least. It always comes out forced.”
“Some people are better actors than others,” Angie said mildly. She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “But I asked Fidds ‘bout Stanford’s fam’ly, and he said he had two brothers what didn’t have powers.”
“Why did he think that?” Stan asked. “I don’t show off my powers to every Tom, Dick, and Harry, but I don’t exactly keep it a secret, either.” Angie shrugged.
“Honestly, I wonder if Stanford told him that, to try to keep anyone from realizin’ you were Flamethrower.”
“It clearly didn’t work,” Stan grumbled.
“No, it did. When Fidds told me that, I figured that the similarities between the girls and Stanford were just coincidences. Mighty strange ones, but coincidences nonetheless. Their father was Flamethrower, a pyrokinetic. Not a normie.”
“But you figured it out,” Stan prompted. Angie nodded.
“Yes. Yesterday. Daisy got away from me and I went runnin’ after her, and before I got to the door, I heard someone say they were a pyro, too. Someone whose voice I recognized. Before you even looked up, I knew who you were.”
“Damn, I need to up my secret identity game,” Stan mumbled. “I didn’t realize you were Sirocco until you told me.”
“I had a leg up. Like I said, I’ve been suspicious of Stanford since I met him. I was prepared to recognize his brother, even if I had been told he was powerless.” Angie grinned crookedly at Stan. “You had no reason to suspect yer brother’s boyfriend’s sister would be a supervillain.” Stan leaned forward.
“Now that you’ve brought him up... Does Ford know? About you being Sirocco?”
“No. He’s completely out of the loop as to what my fam’ly does.”
“Your family?” Stan asked, aghast. Angie winced. “You didn’t mean to let that slip.”
“No. No, I didn’t.” Angie swallowed. “But ya might as well know. Yer daughters are McGuckets, and the McGuckets are well-known in the…law-avoidant community.” She frowned at Stan. “Don’t tell Stanford. Fidds will tell him when he thinks he’s ready.”
“No problem. Ford can’t keep a secret, but I’m pretty good at it,” Stan said with a shrug. “I’m not thrilled about the idea of my kids being raised as villains, but I guess that’s something we can work out later.”
“Oh? I would have expected that you would want to take care of that right away.”
“Yeah, but, first…” Stan chewed on the inside of his cheek. He met Angie’s eyes just as she had met his moments ago. “Why now?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you telling me all this now?” Stan demanded. Angie leaned back slightly, evidently startled by his fervent tone. “How old are Danny and Daisy?”
“Three,” Angie replied quietly.
I missed out on three years of their lives. Stan fought back the tears that were beginning to well up.
“So for basically four years, you knew I was a dad, and you never told me.” Stan took a shuddering breath. “Why are you telling me now? And don’t try to say you didn’t know who I really was before. You coulda told me any of the times we saw each other while we were in masks.”
“Well, Fidds and Lute saw you at the party, figured it out, and won’t stop harassin’ me,” Angie said, attempting a smile. At Stan’s stony expression, however, the weak grin was wiped away. “Okay, no jokes.” Angie looked down at the table and brushed imaginary dust off it. “…You were so sweet with ‘em yesterday,” she said softly. “Daisy especially. She actually cried when you left. At least there’s a cryokinetic in my fam’ly that Danny can spend time with. Daisy’s never met another pyro before.” Stan thought back to Daisy’s rapturous expression when she realized he was pyrokinetic as well. He smiled faintly.
Those big blue eyes, sparkling like I just told her I was Superman.
“You didn’t know they were related to you, you hadn’t even met ‘em before. But right away, you were makin’ ‘em laugh and smile.” Angie leaned back and looked up at the sky. Stan was surprised to see the corners of her eyes glistening. “Even villains can feel guilt. And it’s pretty damn difficult not to feel guilt over all this. For the past four years, I’ve been tellin’ myself all sorts of things. You wouldn’t want kids. You wouldn’t like kids. You act tough and crass and brash because that’s who ya are all the way through. You don’t have a lick of the softness or kindness that would be necessary to raise children.” Angie looked at Stan, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I knew all of those things were lies. I’ve gotten to know ya pretty well over the years we’ve been fightin’. But I could keep lyin’ to myself and keep that guilt away. Until I saw, firsthand, how monstrously false those lies were.” A single tear broke free and traced its way down Angie’s cheek. “I can’t keep ‘em away from ya no more. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Since when does a villain care about what’s right?” Stan asked. Angie cocked her head and managed a watery smile.
“Always, Stanley. I always care about what’s right. It’s just that what I consider right don’t always line up with what, say, the government considers right.” She quickly rubbed her eyes. “Now, we’ve got some things to figure out, but I reckon if yer able and willin’ to try to co-parent, I can do that with ya.”
“Uh, yeah. Obviously,” Stan scoffed. Angie’s smile widened.
“There’s that bluster I know so well.” She cleared her throat. “Would- would ya like to head to my place? Maybe- maybe have a proper introduction to the girls?” Stan beamed.
“Hell. Yes.”
“Excellent.” Angie got up from her chair. “Oh, but one thing.”
“What?” Stan asked. He downed the rest of his coffee, which had gone cold, and stood.
“I don’t plan on tellin’ my fam’ly that yer a hero. Not yet, at least. You fine with that?”
“As long as you don’t tell my folks that you’re a villain.” Stan held out his hand. “Shake on it?” Angie shook the offered hand.
“But of course.” She turned around. “C’mon. I live nearby.” Stan quickly caught up to her.
“So, uh, your whole family is made of villains?” Stan asked. Angie nodded. “Even Fiddleford?”
“Especially Fiddleford.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Let me tell ya ‘bout all the fancy colleges he got expelled from…”
I got in a Spy AU mood randomly the other day and we actually talked a bit about it on the Discord and came up with some new things (that I think I will try to write a ficlet to introduce at some point). And as I went through my Spy AU word doc, I realized that I had a decently fluffy scene written that I never posted. It’s basically a follow-up to this. Enjoy.
———————————————————————————————————–
With some difficulty, Angie shuffled the bags of groceries around until she could open the door. She stepped inside the house. Immediately, she heard footsteps run towards her.
“Mama!” Daisy shrieked, colliding with Angie’s legs in her excitement. Danny followed her twin at a slightly more sedate pace. “Mama! Uncle Fidds brought us a kitty!”
“I heard,” Angie said calmly. “I brought some things fer the kitty while he stays with us.”
“Do we get to keep him?” Danny asked.
“No, we’re just takin’ care of him until his home is ready,” Angie answered. Danny and Daisy pouted. “He’s not ours, sweetlings, he’s someone else’s. We can’t keep him.” Stan poked his head out of the nearby kitchen.
“Hey, Ang.”
“Hey, yourself. If you want to put away the groceries, I’ll get food ready fer the kitten.”
“On it.” Stan walked over and took the groceries from Angie. “By the way, he’s hiding somewhere. I think he got sick of getting his whiskers pulled.”
“He’ll show up,” Angie said confidently. “Girls, go ahead and get back to colorin’ or whatever it was you were doin’. Yer dad and I will call ya when dinner’s ready.”
“Okay,” Danny said dutifully. She and Daisy wandered off.
“I think Ford already regrets deciding to stay here,” Stan said in a low tone. “We can’t leave him alone in a room with the girls. They’re too excited to realize he doesn’t like getting tugged on.”
“I figured as such,” Angie replied. She followed Stan into the kitchen. “But other than bein’ subjected to our daughters’ enthusiasm, how’s he doin’?”
“He hacked up a hairball on the living room rug, got tangled up in a ball of yarn, and fell asleep in my lap for fifteen minutes. So I think he’s adjusting to being a cat pretty well,” Stan said. Angie chuckled. She dug out the canned wet food from one of the grocery bags, along with a small food dish.
“Makes ya wonder if he was meant to be a cat all along.”
“Well, Fiddlesticks said that whatever Ford got splashed with is supposed to reveal your inner self. Or somethin’ like that.”
“Ah.” Angie opened the cat food. Much like when she walked through the door, the response was immediate. Claws sounded on the hardwood floor. “Someone must smell their dinner.” Angie felt something tug at her pants leg. She looked down, expecting to see one of her daughters. Instead, it was a kitten resembling a lion cub, with feathery wings on its back. It clung to Angie’s clothes, staring up at her with wide eyes. “Howdy.” The kitten meowed. “How are you, Stanford?”
“If you must ask, I suppose that I’m fine,” Ford said, “but I need to ask, is that food mine?” Ford looked at the can of food.
“Yes, it is yours,” Angie said. Ford meowed again and began to climb further up her leg. “Wh- hey! Don’t do that!” Ford ignored her, continuing to climb. “Stan? Some help?”
“On it.” Stan grabbed Ford. “Ford, what the hel- heck?”
“I’m hungry, of course! I could eat a horse!” Ford moaned.
“Using Angie as your own personal jungle gym won’t make your food get ready faster,” Stan said. Ford hissed quietly.
“Here, eat up,” Angie said, setting the food dish on the floor. Stan carefully put Ford down. Ford rushed over and began to eat voraciously. “Slow down. The food’s not goin’ anywhere.”
“Feathers is eating!” a voice squealed. Stan and Angie looked over. Danny and Daisy were standing in the entryway to the kitchen, watching Ford with wide eyes.
“Oh.” Stan looked at Angie. “I guess it makes sense for them to come up with something other than ‘the kitty’.”
“I wanna play with Feathers,” Daisy announced, marching over to Ford. Ford stopped eating and watched her approach, his back arched, fur standing on end.
“No, leave him alone,” Angie said. She picked Daisy up. “Would you like it if a giant kept pokin’ ya while ya tried to eat yer dinner?”
“…No,” Daisy mumbled.
“Exactly. Let Feathers have a few moments of peace while yer father and I make dinner, okay?”
“Okay.” Angie set Daisy down. She exited the kitchen with her twin, glancing back at Ford on her way out.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Angie said to Ford. Ford didn’t respond. He had resumed eating with gusto. “Geez, if ya keep eatin’ so fast, you’ll-” Angie blinked. Before she could finish her sentence, Ford had successfully emptied his bowl. “You were hungry, huh.” Ford sat back on his haunches and nodded, his tail swishing idly.
“Are you still hungry?” Stan asked. Ford nodded again. Stan looked at Angie. “Should we give him more food?”
“We have to be careful with cats. They’ll eat themselves into obesity if ya don’t regulate their intake.” Angie frowned. “But then again, Ford had a massive change today, which would definitely be drainin’, and kittens need enough food to grow.” She chewed her lip, thinking. After a minute, Stan prompted her.
“So?”
“Dry food,” Angie said decisively. Ford’s tail drooped. “We’ll give him dry food.”
“Just because I’m a cat, you’ll feed me that?” Ford said.
“Uh, yeah. It’s what cats eat,” Stan said. Ford glared at him. Angie picked up the food dish. While she poured dry food into it, Ford began to wash his face.
“Okay, that’s adorable,” Angie said. Ford huffed quietly, but continued to clean himself. He paused, a strange expression on his face.
“Shit,” Stan muttered. “He made that face earlier.” Ford wheezed loudly. “Did you really lick yourself enough that you have to do this again?” Ford wheezed twice more. “Come on, Ford, don’t-” With a loud hack, Ford coughed a hairball onto the flecked linoleum. “Dammit, Ford.” Ford mewed quietly. Stan grunted in displeasure. “Now I gotta clean it up.”
“Use a paper towel, dear,” Angie said. Stan nodded. He grabbed a few sheets of paper towel from the roll on the counter. When he knelt next to Ford to clean up the hairball, Ford let out another soft meow. Stan looked at him.
“You all right?” Stan asked. Ford looked down. “I’m not angry at you. Cats can’t help coughing up hairballs.” Ford meowed again. Stan frowned. “You know you can speak English still, right?”
“Today, it’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve done,” Ford muttered. “Coughing up two hairballs, not merely one.”
“Oh.” Stan paused. “You gotta do it, you gotta do it, right? Same reason Angie got you a scratching post and a litterbox. You’re a cat. Cats do this stuff.” Ford’s eyes widened. “…You didn’t know Angie got you a litterbox.” Ford shook his head. “If you tried to use the pot, you’d fall in.” Ford looked away. “We’re gonna put the litterbox in the guest room, okay? The girls don’t go in there ‘cause they think it’s haunted. You’ll get some privacy.” Ford looked pointedly at the hairball. “Yeah, I can’t do anything about you hacking up hairballs in front of people. You’ll have to figure it out on your own.” Stan shrugged. “Just hide when you feel like you’re gonna do it.”
“I suppose I can try to run off next time.”
“Exactly.”
“Here,” Angie said, setting down Ford’s food dish again. It had a mixture of dry and wet food.
“I thought it was just gonna be dry food,” Stan said.
“It was, but then Ford was cute and sad,” Angie said. Stan scratched the top of Ford’s head. Ford started to purr.
“See? Things are already looking up for the world’s nerdiest kitten.”
46 - Skies (maybe glowing alien!Gucks AU? How often do the kids want to go out flying when they're older? Does Angie? DO THEY END UP WITH CRAYON DRAWINGS ALL OVER THE CEILING?)
46. Skies
Uhhh this ended up a lot longer than I planned. Sometimes I just can’t shut up. And I wanted to write some fluff, since things are currently going down the drain. So here are some flying glowing Gucks. Enjoy.
Prompt List
——————————————————————————————
Stan slapped a mosquito that hadlanded on his arm.
“Damn bugs,” he muttered. Fussing sounded from the baby carrier to hisright. He quickly checked the infantnestled inside, Danny. “Princess, youall right there?” Stan held out hishand. Danny grabbed his finger andgummed it excitedly. “I get it. You just wanted your chew toy.” While Danny chewed on his finger, he watchedAngie pace back and forth on the lawn. “Babe?”
“I’m goin’ to do it,” Angiemumbled to herself. She clenched herhands into fists. “I can do it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with notturning into a giant bug and flying away,” Stan said. Angie looked over at him. “We’ve been perfectly fine so far with justbeing human.”
“But I’m not human,” Angiesaid. “Not fully human.” She looked up at the night sky, filled withstars. “Part of me has always been drawnto the skies, Stan. Now I know why. That’s where that part of me is from.” Stan’s stomach churned. “I know yer not that comfortable with all ofthis-”
“That’s an understatement.”
“-but I need to try. If nothin’ else, it’ll help me make thingseasier on the girls when they get older. They’ll need to learn how to control their alien sides,” Angie pointedout. Stan grunted, not willing to admitthat she was right. “Okay. I’m goin’ to do it now. I’ll do it.” Stan watched with bated breath.
Angie stood still on the grass,damp with dew. She closed her eyes andleaned her head back, her posture relaxed. After a moment, a faint shimmer spread across her skin. Immediately after that, color rippled overher features as her pale tone was replaced with a pulsating, faint pinkglow. Her limbs, already slender, grewunnaturally thin, while her ears grew up and out until they resembled adeer’s. Two feathery antennae sproutedfrom her forehead. Angie opened hereyes, revealing that they had turned pure black. The stars spilled across the sky reflected inher eyes.
“Well, you turned bug, time tocall it quits,” Stan said brusquely. Angie looked over at him. A chillran down Stan’s spine at her obsidian gaze.
“No.” The only good thing Stan could say about herother form so far was that her voice was the same. “I need to try…” Her pink glow became interspersed with alight turquoise. “I need to try flying.”
“Flying? Ang, no!”
“Ma can do it. The girls can.”
“They float, Angie.”
“That’s flying.” Angie looked back up at the sky. “I need to try it, too.” Stan pulled his legs closer to his chest,dread mounting. Angie took a deepbreath. She stared at the heavens asthough looking for an answer. A momentpassed. Then another. Finally, right before Stan was about to tellher that they should definitely call it quits for the night, Angie rose off theground.
“Fuck,” Stan swore softly,staring. Angie’s feet hovered a fewinches above the tips of the blades of grass. Angie let out a joyful laugh, like bells chiming. Her feet slammed back onto the lawn. She promptly sat down. “…You all right?”
“Yes.” Angie beamed up at the stars. “I am.”
-----
It was balmy summer evening. Fireflies danced in the air. Once again, Stan sat between two babycarriers on the lawn, watching Angie tap into her extraterrestrial side. But this time, two others were doing the samething. Stan adjusted his hold on Emmett,who was going through an incredibly fussy phase and wouldn’t calm down unlesshe was being held. In contrast, Emorywas fast asleep in his carrier, not caring about anything happening around him.
Wish I could be asleep rightnow. Then I wouldn’t have to watch mykids turn into bugs. Stan hadlearned quickly to keep his opinions about Angie’s alien appearance tohimself. Not only did it upset Angie,but it upset Danny and Daisy, too. Astime had passed, he’d gotten more used to Angie’s alien side, as well as hisdaughters’, but he couldn’t help preferring them in their human form.
“Okay, girls, time to shift,”Angie instructed, already alien in appearance. Danny and Daisy, standing in front of her, quickly morphed. Their skin glowed a faint gold, antennae sproutedfrom Daisy’s forehead, and Danny’s eyes turned a solid, milky white. “Good work.”
“Now we fly?” Daisy askedeagerly. Stan grinned at the excitementin her voice.
“Yup!” Angie chirped.
“How?” Danny asked.
“Close yer eyes and imagine whatit feels like to be weightless. Like yerin a swimmin’ pool, just floatin’,” Angie instructed. Danny and Daisy closed their eyes. After a moment, they both began to lift offthe ground. Danny opened her eyes,yelped, and fell back down. Daisy,however, upon opening her eyes, soared higher. She did an excited twirl in the air.
“This is great!” Daisy cheered.
“Don’t drift off,” Stan saidquickly. While Angie checked on Danny,Daisy flew over to Stan. She landed infront of him. “Hey, pumpkin.”
“Dad, did you see?” Daisysquealed. Stan nodded. “I love being part alien!” Daisy spun around, her sundress billowingaround her.
“Yep,” Stan said in a tightvoice, his smile forced.
“How’s my brothers?” Daisyasked. She peered closely at Emmett, whostared back at his older sister. “When’she gonna start glowing?”
“I don’t know, sweetie, he-” There was a flash of light. Stan blinked away the afterimages and lookeddown at Emmett still in his arms. “…Nevermind, I guess he’s gonna start glowing now.” A moment ago, Emmett had been a regular human infant, with thick browncurls and a large, distinctive nose. Those two traits remained the same, but he now looked anything buthuman. Unlike Danny and Daisy, who had amixture of human and alien traits, Emmett was looked exactly the same as Angie’sbrother Lute, when he was in his alien form. Stan stroked Emmett’s bangs out of the way. Emmett stared up at him with wide,pitch-black eyes.
“Wowie zowie, he looks likeUnclute!” Daisy gasped.
“…Yep,” Stan mumbled. One of Emmett’s antennae twitched.
“Sweetie, come back, you can lookat yer brothers later,” Angie called. Daisy looked over.
“Ma, Emmett’s glowing!”
“Is he? Good fer him.” Angie sounded pleased. “But we can look at him when we’re done learnin’to fly, okay?” Daisy sighed.
“Okay.” She skipped back over to Angie and hertwin. Stan looked back at Emmett. Emmett made a mewling sound and stretched oneof his minute hands out. Stan’s heartsoftened.
“Hey there, sport,” he whispered,holding Emmett more tightly against his chest. Emmett nestled against him and smacked his lips in a satisfiedmanner. His antennae twitchedagain. Stan kissed Emmett’s glowingforehead. “Wanna watch yoursisters? That’s gonna be you someday.”
-----
Stan sat on the grass, ignoringthe damp dew soaking into his pants and the blades tickling him.
I’ve really gotta mowsoon. Or better yet, get Daisy to do it. He watched sixteen-year-old Danny and Daisydo loop-de-loops in the air, glowing bright pink. They’re in good moods right now. I’ll tell her to do it later. Angie was giving ten-year-old Emory andEmmett the same instructions she’d given Danny and Daisy when they startedflying. Emory bounced on the balls ofhis feet excitedly, already in his alien form, which looked identical to hishuman one, with the except that he was glowing. Emmett, however, was still human, looking down at his feet, visiblydreading what was about to happen.
“Now, don’t worry if it takes abit to kick in,” Angie said. Herantennae twitched in the faint spring breeze. “Just keep tryin’. If nothin’happens tonight, we try again tomorrow.”
“I think we can manage,” Emorysaid proudly, puffing out his chest. Angie chuckled and ruffled his caramel-colored curls.
“I know you can, sugar-cube.” Angie looked at Emmett. “Emmett, you ready?”
“I think…I think I’m gonna go sitwith Dad,” Emmett mumbled. Angieblinked. “I don’t- I don’t feel good.”
“Okay, but-” Angie started. Emmett walked away silently and sat down nextto Stan. Stan put a hand on his shoulder.
“You all right there, sport?” heasked softly. Emmett pulled his legsclose to his chest. “C’mon, kid, talk tome.”
“I don’t like being alien,”Emmett said quietly. Stan stared athim. “I’m already weird enough, since Igot twelve toes. I don’t like that there’sthis other thing that makes me so different.”
“You’re only a quarter alien.”
“Then how come I look full alien?”Emmett asked.
“That’s just how things worksometimes. If I’ve learned one thingabout genetics, it’s that you can’t predict it as much as you think you shouldbe able to.” Stan scratched hischeek. “Of course, I learned that fromlistening to your mom and Uncle Ford talk about the alien thing, but still.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Yeah.” Stan’s hand fell to his lap. He chewed on the inside of his cheek,debating whether or not to tell Emmett. Hetook a deep breath. “I didn’t, either.”
“What?” Emmett stared at Stan. “Dad, what do you mean?”
“When we first found out about thewhole alien thing,” Stan said, waving a hand vaguely, “I didn’t like it. Every time your mom turned alien in front ofme, I wanted to leave the room. I hatedhow sometimes your older sisters looked like…” Stan glanced back at Danny and Daisy. “Don’t tell them this, but I said that they looked like bugs.” Emmett’s jaw dropped.
“But yer so casual about all ofit!”
“It took a while before I couldbe casual,” Stan said. “I didn’t wantany of this, I didn’t like it.” Stantook a breath. “But then I got used toit. And after I got used to it, Istopped feeling so uncomfortable. Andafter I stopped feeling so uncomfortable, I started liking how you kids lookwhen you’re all glowy.” Stan ruffledEmmett’s hair. “You being alien isn’t abad thing. So what if it makes youweirder? Is anyone in this familynormal?” Emmett managed a small laugh.
“I guess you’re right.” Emmett took a deep breath. Like when Angie transformed, there was aripple of color that passed over his skin as his human appearance was wipedaway. In alien form, Emmett shifteduncomfortably. He glowed a tense darkgreen.
“Think you’ll take a stab atflying now?” Stan asked. Emmett shookhis head.
“I think I’ll just start bygetting used to the antennae. It’s beena while since I’ve had them.”
“No worries,” Stan said with ashrug. “Take your time. You can stay grounded with your old man.” Emmett nodded silently. Angie walked over.
“Emmett, you ready to start flyin’?”she asked. Emmett shook his head. “That’s fine. When yer ready, just let me know. Emory ‘ll be happy to fly with ya.” Emmett nodded. Angie turned toStan. “Come with me, darlin’.”
“…What?” Stan asked. Angie grabbed his hand and pulled him up.
“How’s that fear of heights ofyours?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Want to find out?” Angieasked. She pulled him close. Stan felt his feet leave the ground. He looked down. He and Angie were hovering a few inches abovethe lawn. His stomach turned over. He looked at Angie. Her large, black eyes caught the lightemanating from her skin.
I got used to Angie lookinglike this, I should be able to get used to heights. I can always close my eyes if I need to. Like he had when Angie first learned to fly,Stan quashed the churning in his stomach and grinned at Angie confidently.
“Let’s do it.”
“Gross, Dad,” Emmettmuttered. Stan frowned at his son.
“No flying, no opinion,” he retorted. Emmett rolled his eyes. Angie wrapped her thin arms around Stan’s torsoand rested her head against his chest, her antennae tickling his chin. Stan returned the gesture, embracing her. He closed his eyes as they ascended into thenight sky.
I’ve had part of the scene where Ford meets his new sister-in-law (aka the queen of a small European country) written out for a while, but last night I finally finished it up. So here, enjoy Ford making a fool of himself in front of royalty he is now related to.
“Unkel Ford!” Danny chirped excitedly. Ford smiled at her.
“Yes, dear?”
“Spect! Spect!” Danny held up a completed coloring page.
“I see it. It’s very pretty. Good job,” Ford said kindly. Danny beamed. “Daisy, are you done yet?”
“Non,” Daisy said, shaking her head. She said something in Lironian. Ford frowned.
“What?”
“She said that she wants to make sure it’s perfect,” Fiddleford translated.
“Ah. Okay.” Ford and Fiddleford were supervising Danny and Daisy for a few hours while Stan ran an errand he had been incredibly vague about. At the moment, they were watching the girls color in the dining room. Ford relished the opportunity to spend time with his nieces.
Particularly time that won’t involve Stan scowling at me. Fiddleford said something in Lironian to Daisy, pointing at her coloring page. Daisy pushed his hand away. Fiddleford chuckled. A door opened.
“Okay, take another step,” Stan’s voice said. Someone laughed. Danny and Daisy’s heads shot up.
“You’re being even more fussy than when I was pregnant, dear,” a female voice said. “I didn’t think that was possible.” Danny and Daisy leapt to their feet and ran out of the room.
“Mámá!” the girls screeched at the top of their lungs. Ford looked at Fiddleford.
“Is that…”
“Yep.” Fiddleford got up. “Sounds like the queen is home.” Ford’s mouth went dry. “Come on. You need to meet your sister-in-law.”
Ford followed Fiddleford through the halls to the main entrance of the castle. When they arrived, Stan was frantically trying to keep his daughters from swarming the woman next to him. He seemed to be attempting to pick up Daisy, but she evaded his grasp. Danny, who was already in his arms, was squirming to break loose. The woman let out a laugh.
“Stanley, it’s fine. I haven’t seen my babies in ages. They can hug me,” she said cheerfully. Stan looked at her with a strained expression.
“The doc said to reduce excitement. I’m not completely sure what that means, but you probably shouldn’t get tackled by two hyperactive toddlers.”
“There’s no need to fuss so much,” the woman said. Stan’s gaze traveled to her right arm, which was in a sling. “I’m fine.”
“Angie…”
“Do you want me to pull rank on you, dear?” the woman – Angie – threatened. Stan managed a weak smile.
“…Fine.” He set Danny down on the ground and gave her and Daisy a short command in Lironian. Danny and Daisy nodded. Daisy lunged forward to wrap her small arms around Angie’s legs. Angie chuckled. She crouched down and began to coo at her daughters in Lironian. Stan ran a hand through his hair anxiously. “By the way, I know you said you wanted to meet my brother, but-”
“No buts about it,” Angie said. She looked up. Her eyes met Ford’s. She stood. “Looks like he found us, anyways.” Stan’s face soured.
“Great,” he muttered. Ford stood stock still, uncertain of how to behave around a queen. Fiddleford grabbed his hand and dragged him over.
“Angie, this is my research partner, Stanford Filbrick Pines, PhD,” Fiddleford said. “Stanford, this is my younger sister, Queen Angie the First, Ruler of the State of Lirone, Ambassador to the Deep Forests-”
“Fidds, he doesn’t need to hear my long list of titles,” Angie said, waving a hand airily. “He’s probably heard Stan’s a million times, and I don’t want to subject him to any more.”
“Can you blame me for showing off?” Stan asked. “Or for showing off the girls?” Angie frowned at him.
“Wait, did you insist on rattling off Danny and Daisy’s list of titles, too?”
“…Yeah.”
“Pfft.” Angie snorted in amusement. “Bet you had quite the dry mouth after that.”
“It was worth it,” Stan replied. Fiddleford elbowed Ford.
Right! I’m supposed to bow. Ford swallowed nervously and bowed to his sister-in-law.
“Your highness,” he said solemnly. To his surprise, Angie laughed. Ford straightened. Angie’s eyes twinkled with merriment.
She and Fiddleford have the same lovely blue eyes.
“At least you got the bow right,” she said jovially. Ford opened and closed his mouth. “You got the wrong form of address, though.”
“…Oh. I did?”
“Yes. A monarch should be referred to as ‘your majesty’, not ‘your highness’.” Angie gestured to her daughters, who were still embracing her legs. “Danny and Daisy are princesses, so they are called ‘your highness’. Stan and myself are monarchs, so ‘your majesty’.”
“Ah.”
“I told you to call us ‘your majesty’,” Stan grunted.
“I thought you were pulling my leg,” Ford said. “I mean, you told me to address everyone as ‘your majesty’.” Angie gave Stan a weary look.
“Stanley…”
“He was being a…” Stan looked down at his young daughters embracing Angie tightly. “D-I-C-K. I was just treating him the way a D-I-C-K should be treated.” Ford raised an eyebrow.
“Whatever happened to ‘I’ll teach my kids swears when they’re young, it’ll prepare them for the real world’?”
“Yeah, when I said that, I wasn’t planning on my kids being literal royalty,” Stan snapped. “If I swear and they repeat it, we could cause an international incident.”
“I feel like the royal family is overly concerned about international incidents,” Ford remarked. “I mean, I’ve been told I could cause one.”
“Stanford,” Angie said in a clear, carrying voice, “don’t speak ‘bout things you don’t fully understand.” Ford blinked. He opened his mouth. “You might have a PhD in physics, but I have multiple degrees from the finest schools in Europe, one of which is a political science degree, another of which is in international relations. I also know intimately how politicking between heads of nations works, and am one of the very, very few royal monarchs to currently be running a country.” Angie leaned in. Her voice went deathly quiet. “Stan was right when he said you could learn how to keep your mouth shut.” Stan laughed. Angie frowned at him. “Don’t act all high and mighty, my love. You had to learn how to do that, too.” She straightened. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work I need to do.” She walked away regally, her daughters trailing after her.
“Angie,” Stan said, frustrated, “the doc said…” He got too far away for Ford to make out the rest of his sentence. Ford turned to Fiddleford. Fiddleford shook his head.
“She’s right, you know. You’re not an expert in this, so keep your mouth shut.”
“I may not be an expert, but even I know that a young child mindlessly saying an improper word without knowing what it means won’t result in World War III,” Ford snapped impatiently. Fiddleford nodded.
“You’re right about that. But…” Fiddleford sighed. “Look. The politics of Lirone are complicated and private. We keep to ourselves, we always have. That’s how our unique culture has survived this long. We keep our people safe.
“My pa and Angie, they’ve started opening up the country more. It’s a risky move for our more…vulnerable residents, so they have to play their cards exactly right to ensure our country doesn’t tear itself apart.” Fiddleford looked away. “Or get torn apart by others.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I should go help Stan keep Angie from doing work. She needs her rest. You know your way back to your room by now, right?” Ford nodded. “Good. See you later.” He walked away. Ford frowned at him as he left.
That was…odd. Even for Fiddleford, who is an admittedly odd individual. What did he mean by “vulnerable residents”? And who would tear apart a small country that hasn’t gotten involved in any international conflicts? Ford rubbed his chin. Something’s not right here. I need to figure out what it is. He turned around and began to make his way to the room he had been staying in. A flash of light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked down.
“What is this?” he mumbled to himself, kneeling to inspect it further. He cautiously poked at the pile of sparkles resting on the carpet.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was fairy dust. Ford looked at the sparkles for a brief second before shaking his head. No. I’m much too far from Gravity Falls for that to be the case. He stood to his full height again and continued on his way.
Once his footsteps had faded, a small, winged figure poked its head around a potted plant in the part of the hallway Ford had just vacated. The fairy’s wings fluttered in an agitated manner and it spoke angrily in Lironian, before flying off in the opposite direction.
Hey, here it is. The follow-up to the ficlet I posted yesterday, where Ford discovers his estranged twin went and married himself a princess. I’m posting this because, once again, I could not control myself. Enjoy some stuff from Stan’s point of view. Oh, a quick note: when characters are speaking out loud and it’s italicized, that means it’s in Lironian, aka the language of the country that Stan is now king consort of.
Stan walked through the spacious garden, holding the hand of his youngest daughter, Daisy. Normally, Daisy would have his full attention, but he was distracted by the new responsibilities he had been given. He chewed on his lip as he skimmed the list the chief of staff just handed him.
I mean, you gotta take on some of this stuff while Angie’s recovering. He let out a soundless groan. I can’t even be with my wife while she’s in the hospital, ‘cause somebody’s gotta run the damn country.
“Duckie!” Daisy gasped in Lironian. Distracted, Stan didn’t tighten his grip in time. Daisy slipped from his grasp to run after the duck she had spotted. The shot from a few days ago echoed through Stan’s mind. Fear jolted him into action.
“Daisy!” Stan screamed. He stuffed the list into his pocket and chased after her, panic coursing through his veins. Daisy looked back at him and grinned. She continued to run. “Daisy, this isn’t a game!” After too long for his liking, he finally caught up to her, at the driveway that led to the castle main entrance. “Don’t do that,” he hissed in Lironian. Daisy’s eyes widened.
Fuck. I know that look. Daisy began to wail loudly. Goddammit.
“Pumpkin, it’s okay,” Stan reassured, bouncing her in an attempt to calm her down. “I got scared, that’s all. Don’t run off like that for a while. Not until they find the bad guy that hurt your mom.” After a moment, Daisy nodded morosely. “Good.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Love you, Daddy,” Daisy mumbled. Stan smiled weakly at her.
“Love you too, you little gremlin.” Someone cleared their throat. Stan turned around. His jaw dropped. “Ford?” he choked out. His estranged twin stood a few feet away, apparently just getting out of a town car. Ford nodded.
“Hello, Stanley,” he said hesitantly. Someone else got out of the town car.
“Fidds?” Stan asked.
“Yep,” Fiddleford said, closing the car door. “How are you doing?”
“I’m-” Stan cut himself off. He glared at Ford. “How I’m doing can wait. Call security.”
“I think that’s a bit of an overreaction,” Fiddleford said.
“No, it’s not. I’m dealing with enough as it is. I don’t need to hear about how I screwed up Ford’s life while I’m trying to run a damn country.” Stan winced at the swear that had slipped out while he was holding his daughter.
Angie’s gonna be pissed. At least the girls don’t know that much English yet.
“Seriously, Fidds, call security,” Stan said firmly.
“Stanley, I invited him,” Fiddleford said. Stan held Daisy tighter.
“Why?” Stan snarled.
“He-” Fiddleford looked at Ford. “He should actually explain it himself.” Ford swallowed nervously.
“I saw you on the news the day of the, ah, attempted assassination,” Ford stammered. Stan continued to glower at him. “I’m incredibly sorry that such a thing happened.” The hot anger throbbing at the back of Stan’s head began to change to cold guilt. He looked down at the ground. “I’m also sorry that we’ve been so distant that you wouldn’t tell me about the major events happening in your life. I would have liked to have known I had a sister-in-law and two nieces.” Stan sighed. All the anger he held towards Ford drained away.
“Fine. You can come in,” he ground out. “I’m too stressed to be pissed at you.” Daisy patted Stan’s face. “What is it, pumpkin?”
“Who’s that?” Daisy whispered, staring at Ford. Stan let out another sigh.
“That’s your Uncle Ford.”
-----
Ford hovered uncertainly near a sofa.
“Just sit down,” Stan snapped. He, Ford, and Fiddleford were in one of Stan’s favorite places in the castle: a small, isolated room that he went to if he needed to be alone for a while. Ford immediately took a seat. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, back up. Why are you here? Money? ‘Cause you could’ve just called.”
“Stanley, I told you. I wanted to reconnect.”
“Really. Just like that, you show up outta thin air?” Stan asked. “Just ‘cause you wanted to ‘reconnect’?”
“Please just listen to him,” Fiddleford said gently. Stan waved his hand.
“Whatever. Fine. Talk, Ford.”
“Like I said, I saw the attempted assassination on the news. I was completely blindsided to see my own twin giving a press conference,” Ford said. He swallowed. “I know we’ve drifted apart, but why didn’t you tell me you married? Or that you had two children? Or that your wife was injured after an attempt to take her life?” Stan slowly sat down on a second sofa, across from Ford. He sighed heavily.
“I just- I was pissed, Ford. I mean, I took the Stan O’War out to sea and no one cared. I washed overboard, got picked up by a fucking European royal family and no one cared. I spent five years here before I even got engaged to Angie. And no one fucking cared.” The upset from before came surging back. “Ford, I completely disappeared, and Mom never tried to contact me. Shermie never tried to contact me. You didn’t try to contact me. Why didn’t I tell you I was getting married? ‘Cause you didn’t care about me when I was your no-good dropout twin. I didn’t want you to pretend you cared just ‘cause I was marrying a princess.” Stan looked away. He could feel his face reddening from a combination of anger and embarrassment.
Damn McGuckets made me get into the habit of actually talking about my feelings and shit like that.
“…Oh,” Ford said softly. Stan blinked, the gears in his head turning.
“Wait. How do you know Fidds?”
“I’m Stanford’s research partner,” Fiddleford replied. Stan stared at him.
“You’ve been my twin’s research partner and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“But you told him about me.”
“No, he didn’t,” Ford interjected. “I figured it out on my own. Fiddleford didn’t tell me anything except confirm my suspicions after I asked him upfront.”
“And how’d you figure it out, huh?” Stan asked.
“The news showed pictures of your wife. Your wife and Fiddleford are eerily similar.”
“Well, they’re siblings,” Stan mumbled. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I guess- I guess that checks out.”
“I’d just like to catch up. Maybe bury the hatchet.”
“I don’t know if we can do both,” Stan grunted. “But…you’re already here, so you might as well spend a week or whatever.” Ford beamed. “My kids don’t understand a lot of English, and they speak even less, so you’re gonna need a translator whenever you wanna spend time with ‘em.”
“But I will get to spend time with my nieces,” Ford said. After a moment, Stan nodded.
“Yeah. But, uh, you’re not royalty, so you gotta bow whenever they enter a room. Actually, you should bow whenever I enter a room, too. Or any of the McGuckets. Just bow whenever you see someone, really.”
“Stanley, come on,” Fiddleford said in Lironian. “Aren’t you going to be somewhat polite?”
“No. I don’t need to be polite. He’s a commoner and I’m a fucking king,” Stan replied. Fiddleford raised an eyebrow.
“A king consort.”
“I’m still running the damn country,” Stan said, spreading his arms wide to indicate the large area he was in charge of. Fiddleford sighed. “Actually, I gotta get back to it.” Stan stood. Ford looked back and forth between Stan and Fiddleford.
“…What’s going on?” Ford asked.
“Stan’s being a bit…what’s the word?”
“Asshole-ish?” Ford suggested.
“I’ll throw you in the dungeon,” Stan muttered. “Don’t test me. Fidds, find him a room or whatever. I’ve gotta go do a million things to keep the country going while my wife’s in the hospital.” He walked out of the room. As he left, he heard Ford speak to Fiddleford.
“I’m surprised by how well that went,” Ford said in an undertone.
“That went well?” Fiddleford asked, bemused.
“I was expecting him to throw me out of the castle and ban me from the country. So, yes, that went well.”
I usually like to include in the title of the post what AU the write is from, but this particular AU has such a long name that I don’t really want to. This takes place in the Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU, and is a rare write that takes place from Lute’s perspective. It’s not quite as Lute-centric as the thing I’ll be posting tomorrow, since it focuses a bit more on Stangie memories. But still, we get some good Lute thoughts into what is going on in this tragic AU.
“Uncle Lute, look!” Lute looked up from the dishes he was currently in the process of washing. His niece Daisy ran over, proudly holding a piece of paper. Lute smiled and dried his hands.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“My teacher left a note on my project, sayin’ I’ve got potential in science she’s never seen before!” Daisy enthused. Lute chuckled. He took the piece of paper. It was the results of her fourth-grade science fair project. Angie had helped, but Daisy had insisted on doing the majority of the work on her own.
“I ain’t all that surprised,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Yer quite the smartie. Just like yer ma.” Daisy beamed. “Ya told her when she picked ya up, I assume?” Daisy nodded. “Good. I can put it on the fridge right away, then.” Lute walked over to the fridge and stuck the paper on the door with a magnet shaped like a salamander. He heard the front door open again.
“Ma, are ya goin’ to tell us?” Emory’s voice asked eagerly.
“Yes, sweetie, just let me take a seat in the livin’ room, okay?” Angie’s voice said. Lute pursed his lips. Angie was frequently tired, particularly since she started to help Ford with his research on the Gravity Falls anomalies, in addition to her own. But the exhaustion in her voice wasn’t physical. It was emotional. And that pointed to his missing brother-in-law.
I knew they’d start askin’ about him eventually. The breadcrumbs Danny ‘n Daisy have, or what all Stanford ‘n myself tell ‘em isn’t enough. They want to hear about Stan from their mother.
“Don’t start without me!” Daisy said suddenly. She darted out of the kitchen. Lute took a deep breath and followed her into the living room. Angie entered and took a seat on the couch. Emily and Emmett, six years old and just done with their first week of school, climbed up next to her. Daisy sat on the floor in front of the couch. Danny joined her.
“Angie,” Lute said softly. Angie looked up. In the seven years that had passed since Stan’s disappearance, the bright caramel color of her hair had started to fade, and she’d been forced to wear reading glasses regularly. Lute couldn’t help but wonder if the stress of everything that had happened was what caused her to age so quickly.
“I’m fine, Lute,” Angie said with a forced smile. Lute leaned against the wall.
“You don’t have to talk about him. I can tell ‘em another story.”
“No, we wanna hear about Dad from Ma!” Emmett protested from Angie’s lap. Lute blinked, surprised. Emmett was the black sheep of his siblings, quiet and unsure. He very rarely raised his voice, and even more rarely wasn’t willing to compromise.
Maybe he’s finally gettin’ some stubbornness in him. Lute smiled. Good. Stan wouldn’t want a kid who’s willing to back down.
“It’s fine, really,” Angie said to Lute. She took a deep breath. “It’s been seven years. I can talk.”
“Okay,” Lute replied. He stayed where he was, determined to step in if Angie became too emotional to carry on.
“What do ya want to hear about, babies?” Angie asked, stroking Emmett’s hair.
“What was Dad like?” Emmett asked. Angie smiled faintly.
“It’d take a long time to explain everything about him,” she said. “Like all people, he’s complex.”
“Ma,” Danny piped up. “Don’t dance around the question.”
“All right, all right. He’s stubborn. Stubborn as a mule. Loyal, willin’ to do anything to protect those he cares about. He has issues showin’ emotion in front of people at times. He’d try to downplay anything he did to be kind as him doin’ just ‘cause it didn’t inconvenience him. His voice would get all gruff when he talked about yer sisters, ‘cause it was the only way to hide how proud he is of ‘em, and how much he loves ‘em.”
She’ll never stop usin’ present-tense, will she.
“How did you two meet?” Danny asked. Angie raised an eyebrow.
“I know you’ve heard that story.”
“Yeah, but not from you.” Danny leaned forward. “Did ya know he was the love of yer life the second ya laid eyes on him?” Angie laughed.
“Not by any means. I was sixteen and hadn’t even left the state before. I couldn’t feel any emotion other than curiosity until I got to know him.” Angie looked over at a photo on the wall, of her and Stan’s high school graduation. “Most of the first interactions we had, I was confused how someone could be so obtuse. He was a real fish outta water on the farm.”
“But he got better,” Daisy said. Angie nodded.
“Yes. He got better.”
“How did ya know he was the one?” Danny asked. Lute let out a small huff of amusement.
There she goes, the hopeless romantic. Lord, am I goin’ to have fun terrorizin’ her dates when she gets older.
“I’m not quite sure,” Angie replied after a moment. She untangled a knot in Emmett’s hair. “It wasn’t one moment. It was a series of moments that all built up.”
“What were-” Danny started.
“Where is he?” Emmett interrupted. Angie’s face broke. Lute stood straighter.
“…I don’t know,” Angie whispered.
“We’ve answered that question, Emmett,” Lute said. Emmett looked over at him.
“Yeah, but yer lyin’,” Emmett said firmly.
“No, we were tellin’ the truth.”
“No. It doesn’t make sense,” Emmett insisted.
And already his new stubbornness is comin’ to bite us in the butt. He really is Stan’s son.
“Honey, yer Uncle Ford was there,” Angie said gently. “He saw what happened.”
“Yeah. Right after he and Dad had a big fight. Uncle Ford could be lying to cover his tracks. He probably is. ‘Cause it doesn’t make any sense fer Dad to be- be wherever Uncle Ford’s machine took him!”
“Junior,” Lute snapped, using the nickname he had come up with when Emmett was five and wanted to go by his middle name, Stanley. “Yer on thin ice.” Emmett glared at him.
“I just want to know what really happened!” Emmett said, crossing his arms. “Dad shoulda been here! He wasn’t! If it’s Uncle Ford’s fault-” A single tear traced its way down Angie’s cheek and landed on Emmett. He looked at Angie, startled. “O-oh. Sorry, Ma.”
“I’m fine,” Angie said. She rubbed her eyes. “I just don’t like thinkin’ ‘bout- ‘bout where yer dad is right now.” Emory embraced Angie.
“Ma, don’t cry,” Emory said softly. Angie smiled through her tears.
“Fer you, I’ll hold ‘em back.”
“I’ll be quiet now,” Emmett mumbled.
“You don’t need to be fer my sake, honey-bun,” Angie said. Her voice was still thick with tears. Emmett shook his head.
“No, I- we should talk ‘bout the good things,” he said. Angie stroked Emmett’s cheek. “I don’t wanna think about him bein’ somewhere bad, either.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Angie took a shuddering breath. “Danny, the first time I knew yer father and I had somethin’ was when we moved in together. He jumped at the chance to move out of yer grandparents’ house, across the country, with no plan fer a job or anything. Just so he could live with me. Everything that happened after just made me more sure of it. Our bickerin’ over the thermostat, me draggin’ him to museums and forests, him draggin’ me to sporting events. The way- the way he’d just laugh if I jumped onto his back, takin’ on the challenge to carry me to whatever my destination was.” Angie’s eyes grew misty with memory. “The way he smelled and felt. And…the day he proposed, blurting it out without thinkin’, without even havin’ the ring on him.” Danny’s eyes widened.
“Wait, how did Dad propose if he didn’t have a ring?” she asked. Lute cocked his head, curious as well.
I don’t think she ever told anyone how Stan proposed. Angie smiled fondly.
“We were down in the mines, and yer father kept tryin’ to get me to go to this fancy restaurant I liked. But I ignored it, said I was fine traipsin’ ‘round underground. I didn’t pay attention to what was goin’ on, and yer father had to rescue me from bein’ eaten by somethin’. He tackled me, we rolled down a hill, and there, at the base of the hill, with me starin’ up at him, he asked me to marry him.” Angie let out a small wistful sigh. “Never did find out what exactly prompted him to pop the question then and there. Knowin’ him, it probably just felt right. And it did. It was special. Way more special than if it had happened at a restaurant.”
“Aw,” Danny gushed.
“I can see why ya kept that story a secret,” Lute said softly. “It’s a sweet one.”
“Yep. And Stan’s got that hard shell. He wouldn’t want folks to know he’s secretly sappy.”
“He’s gonna come back, right?” Emory asked. Angie nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “He will.” Lute’s heart sunk.
She’s never goin’ to move on.
“I think that’s enough story fer today,” Angie said briskly. “Y’all have some homework, and I have some data to write up.” The children grumbled, but gradually dispersed. Once all four children were gone, Lute joined Angie on the couch. She was staring at the photo on the mantel of Stan, Angie, Danny, and Daisy during their first Halloween as a family. Stan and Angie were dressed as robbers, and the infant Danny and Daisy as sacks of money.
“Banjey, it’s not right to get their hopes up like that,” Lute said in an undertone.
“I know you don’t think he’ll come back,” Angie said softly. “But I know my husband. He’d do anything to come back to his fam’ly. It’s not gettin’ their hopes up to let ‘em know that one day, their dad will be back. It’s preparin’ ‘em fer the future.” She stood. “I really do have research to work on.” She walked away. Lute sighed.
“Learn to keep yer darn mouth shut, McGucket,” he said to himself. He stood up and walked over to the mantel to pick up the Halloween picture. In the background, he could just make out Ford with his back turned, helping Tate go trick-or-treating.
If there was anyone who could bring Stan back, it’d be Stanford. And if there was anyone who could survive alternate realities to come back home to his family, it’d be Stan. He set the picture back on the mantel. Maybe I should try bein’ optimistic like Angie fer once. It’d sure be better than assuming my brother’s dead. He let out a sigh.
“Somethin’ to ruminate on,” he said quietly. He turned away from the mantel.
