NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 6 - Part of the Job
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Summary: Stanford Pines is used to finding odd things in his house. But even this is a bit much. AU suggestion from @tea-and-tipulidae. [Neverhuman AU]
Word count: 872
Ford could hear Stan’s contented humming long before he entered the kitchen.
“You’re up early,” Ford remarked, standing in the doorway. His twin shrugged.
“Gotta make breakfast for the gremlins.”
“Actual small creatures that have a fondness for destroying machinery, or Dipper and Mabel?” Ford asked. Stan looked up at him with a slight scowl. “Given your new…employment, it’s a valid question.”
“Fair enough,” Stan muttered. He poked at the mass of eggs and meat in the skillet in front of him. “Dipper and Mabel. I don’t see many real gremlins around here. They like bigger cities.”
“Interesting.” Ford cocked his head. “Did one of the fey creatures here tell you that?”
“Nah.” Stan tapped his skull. “I got that info locked up tight in my own noggin. It’s a part of the job. Sorta a dictionary of magical-slash-supernatural-slash-weird creatures.”
“Remarkable,” Ford breathed. Stan rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to whatever he was cooking. “And the breakfast…will you be partaking in it?”
“I’ve seen you eat before,” Ford said.
“Yeah. I can. Doesn’t mean I always wanna. I mean, yeah, usually I wanna eat, but most times, human food just doesn’t do it for me. Not anymore.” Stan grimaced. “I’m too magicky now.”
“So does that mean you have-”
“Special fey food? You bet.” Stan sighed. “It’s not the same as bacon, but it’s pretty damn good.”
“Uh, the fridge?” Stan said. He watched with minor interest as Ford crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge door. Ford frowned thoughtfully. “It’s got a glamour on it to keep the kids from eating or seeing it.”
“Can you take down the glamour?”
“I guess.” Stan waved a hand. Ford immediately let out a yelp and jumped backwards. “See why I keep it hidden?”
“Holy Moses! Stanley, I- I’ve seen my fair share of disturbing things, but that…”
“Since it spooked you, does that mean I don’t have to worry about you eating it?” Stan asked. Ford paused to think. “Geez, that’s never a good sign. If you have to think about whether you’ll eat something that looks disturbing like my fey food does, you’ll probably end up eating it. If only so you can brag about eating it.”
“I’m a scientist. I like to collect data,” Ford protested.
“Uh-huh. And do you like being able to eat human food?” Stan asked.
“Don’t eat the fey food. If a mortal eats it, they can’t eat human food ever again. Turns to sawdust and ash in your mouth, or something like that.”
“…Oh. Fair enough.” Ford closed the fridge. “I- I think I saw your fey food move.”
“Yep. That happens,” Stan said casually.
“Why?” Ford asked. Stan shrugged.
“Beats me. Stuff just sorta acts weird around eldritch beings, y’know?”
“Actually, yes, I do know,” Ford said softly. He sat down at the kitchen table. Stan froze.
“How the hell do you know that?”
“You can’t have met them here. If you’d met any of the eldritch people in Gravity Falls, they woulda told me when I got the job.”
“No, even I knew better than to attempt to contact the powerful old fey more than twice.”
“More than twice, he says,” Stan muttered to the eggs. “If you didn’t meet ‘em here, where?”
“During my journeys across the multiverse, of course.”
“…Of course you did,” Stan mumbled.
“I know what the multiverse is, Poindexter. It’s the sum of all the alternate realities and dimensions, as well as different planes of existence. They border each other, and those borders can be breached by magic, high science, or a combination of the two,” Stan rattled off. Ford blinked.
“I didn’t think I was that in depth in my research.”
“Nope.” Stan tapped his head. “Learned that when I took the job, too. Where’d you think the fey came from?”
“They’re from an alternate reality?” Ford asked. “I had theorized they might be, but I wasn’t completely sure.”
“Bzzt. Wrong answer. They’re from a ‘higher plane of existence’. Different from an alternate reality.”
“…True,” Ford conceded. He leaned forward, his curiosity continuing to pique. “Does this mean that you-”
“Yep.” Stan stirred the mess in the skillet. “I’m basically an alien. Surprised me. Always thought it was gonna be you.”
“Heh.” Noises drifted down from the attic. “The children are up.”
“Yep. Just in time. Breakfast is done. And…if you want, Stanford, you could join us. Scrambled meat and eggs,” Stan said. Ford thought about it for a moment.
“For a short while, yes, I’ll sit with you. I won’t stay for long, since I have work and research to attend to.”
“Figured.” Stan paused. “I, uh, appreciate it, or whatever.”
“Mind getting the orange juice out?” Stan asked, clearing his throat.
“Sure.” Ford walked over to the fridge and opened the door. He grimaced. “Your fey food is still visible.”
“Damn, forgot about it. Should probably fix that. The kids ‘ll have nightmares for weeks.”
“Seriously, why does it move?”
“Yeah, but not sentient,” Stan said. He sighed softly. “I should probably eat it before that happens. Sentience tastes gamey.”
