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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Stan leads you to a log circle a few yards away from the Mystery Shack, and points to a log facing the forest with his flash light. "Siddown right there- you're gonna really appreciate this," he says.

"Oh kayyyy..." you say uncertainly, but sit down as he asks.

"All right, I gotta set this up," he hands you the flashlight. "Hold this, will ya toots? I'll be right back," he says, grabbing something out of the cooler and walking to the edge of the forest.

You watch as he tosses something on the ground, then backs up a few paces and throws it again. As he comes closer, you can see it's... marshmallows. He's creating a trail of marshmallows leading to the log circle.

You feel equal parts worried and excited. You've heard stories of the things that lived in the woods in Gravity Falls, and hope Stan knew what he was doing. He probably wouldn't do something too dangerous... right?

You don't want to think about that question too hard, but luckily Stan has backed into the log circle, forcing you back to the present. "Hey, aim that flashlight over here," he says. You point it towards him, and he throws you a mischievous look over his shoulder. "Enjoy the view," he says, then squats down to arrange more marshmallows on the ground.

Well. Those jeans looked pretty dang good on him.

"Yes sir!" you tell him, and he laughs, then lets out a sharp sound. "Stan, are you OK?" you stand up, worried.

"Just... just need a little help up," he says through gritted teeth, and you hold back a laugh as you race to help him.

He waves you off when he has halfway straightened out, and the two of you walk back to the log. Stan takes back the flashlight and turns it off, and in a few moments all you can see are the stars and the silhouettes of the trees against the moonlight.

"Now what?" you ask after a few seconds of silence.

"Shhh," Stan says. "They're a little skittish around newcomers. They love comin' up to me though. They're like feral cats," he says.

Before you can ask what he's talking about, you notice a glow coming out of the woods. It's close to the ground, and your imagination runs wild. A gnome? A fairy? Some sort of land version of those freaky fish that live at the bottom of the ocean and have those lure lights?

It comes closer, and you grab Stan's arm in fear.

But Stan just chuckles, and says. "Don' worry. I gotcha."

You look up at him, able to see his features in the moonlight, and the tightness in your chest eases at his grin.

You turn back to watch the glow, and soon...

A little fire is slowly walking up to you, using tiny little logs as legs for a body made out of pure flame. It toddles over to the next marshmallow in line, bending over so the flames can devour it, then straightens up again until it catches... sight of? smell of?... the next marshmallow, and starts again.

"Oh Stan," you breathe in fascination.

"You like that, huh?" Stan asks, and you can hear the pride in his voice. The two of you watch as the little fire makes its way towards you, finally settling down in the middle of the log circle to munch on the pile of marshmallows Stan left there. He nudges you, and you manage to tear your eyes away from the walking fire to see he's holding a marshmallow skewer, preloaded with two marshmallows. "One for you, one for him. When he burns up his, it's time to take yours out."

You take the skewer, shaking your head in awe. "This is really amazing, Stan," you say, looking up into his big brown eyes sparkling in the firelight. Despite the magical, living fire in front of you, you don't want to break his gaze...

A cry in the night like nothing you've ever heard before rings out from the woods, and you are so startled you drop your skewer and bury your face in Stan's chest, arms around his torso as you think of the awful things that could be out there. He immediately wraps his own arms around you, keeping you close. "Hey, it's OK," he murmurs. "If the little fire's not scared, we're fine," He lets you go, and you slowly and- yes, a little reluctantly- move out of his arms.

But before you can move back too much, he gently takes your chin and tilts it up so you are looking directly into his eyes. "Listen, babe," he says in a low voice. "You're safe with me, OK?"

You can't help but give him a soft smile. "OK," you say. You comfortably stay there for a few heartbeats, and then, as naturally as taking a breath, you move a few inches to give him a kiss. Stan immediately returns it, and turns the kiss into something long and slow.

You don't get any toasted marshmallows that night, but you don't mind.

You got something better.

Chapter Text

"That is the last time I ever let you talk me into anything, McGucket!" you hear Stan say angrily behind the diner.

"Oh come on now Stanley," McGucket- Fiddleford, you know him as- responds mildly in his adorable Tennessee accent. "It was just a double date. How were we supposed to know the barf fairies would decide to swarm in the diner-"

"That's not the point!" Stan says, and somehow his voice is muffled.

You make your way around the corner to see Stan in the middle of taking off his barf-fairy-stained shirt. Fiddleford was holding out a spare sweatshirt he had procured from his car and wearing another spare himself, holding his own stained shirt in the other hand.

You know it's impolite to stare, after all, that's why the boys walked around the diner so they didn't have to change in front of everyone- but Stan's chest was... well... huge. A combination of strength and a few too many burgers suddenly made your hands itch to reach out and-

"Then what is the point?" Fiddleford asks patiently.

Stan finishes struggling with his shirt and makes a face as he drops it on the ground, snatching the clean sweatshirt from Fiddleford's hands. Then he mumbles something.

"What was that?" Fiddleford asks.

"I said I really like this girl, an' I don't want her to think of barfing fairies when she thinks of me!" He struggles a little bit with the sweatshirt, and you feel slightly disappointed as he finally tugs it down over his torso. It's still a little tight though, and you can see the definition of his pectorals, his little gut, and... those arms. "An' if it wasn't for your stupid double date idea, we wouldn't have been in this mess!"

Fiddleford snorts, then makes eye contact with you. You open your mouth to apologize for being a creep, but he winks and puts a finger to his lips. "For one thing, it wasn't my idea, it was Emma May's... but if you want to talk to her about it..."

"No," Stan interrupts quickly. "That wife of yours scares me t'death."

"Only because she's one of the few people who can put you in your place," Fiddleford says smoothly. "That's one of the things I love about her- she ain't afraid to speak her mind."

"Yeah, well, me neither, and I'm tellin' you..." Stan pauses, then seems to almost... deflate. "Look, Fidds, this girl... she's real important, an' I just wanna impress her, an' make her happy..."

You can't help but melt into a grin, and Fiddleford nods towards you with a smile of his own. "She looks pretty happy to me,"

The blood drains from Stan's face as he sees you. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he says.

"Maybe try whispering next time," you say in a teasing voice, but your eyes are shining as you walk towards him. "Do you really like me that much Stan?"

"Well, look," he says, clearly flustered. "Y'know, we've only been on a coupla dates, but I could... I mean I... but look, we..."

You put your hand in his. "Because I really like you too, Stan."

Stan's grin could have lit up the entire night sky. "Thanks. Me too. I mean, me too that I like you. A lot. Yeah." he gulps.

Fiddleford clears his throat, and makes some pulling motion with his hands. Stan frowns. "Pull? Taffy? Stretch? Stretch! Stretch what?" you see Fiddleford smack his forehead out of the corner of your eye. Then he points to his watch. "Watch? Stretch watch- stretch time! Yeah, stretch-" he turns back to you, and despite the total disaster you find it all so endearing. "So..." Stan says, suddenly trying to be smooth. "Since we didn't get to eat much, wanna come back to my place for ice cream?"

Your heart flutters. "Yes, that sounds great!" you say.

Fiddleford clears his throat again. "Ah, well, y'know, me an' Emma May would love to join ya, but we'd better get home to Tater Tot," he looked at Stan again pointedly, then over at his wife, then again at Stan. "An' maybe we'll try this again."

"Anything you say, Fidds," Stan says, and begins escorting you to the car.

"An' tell that brother of yours to stop working so hard!" Emma May calls from the McGucket truck. "We'll find 'im a real nice girl and make it a triple next time!"

"Will do, Emma May!" Stan said, and you feel as if he is resisting the urge to salute, and can't help but laugh as you take his wonderful arm and let him take you to his car.

~*~*~*~*~Spooky ending starts here~*~*~*~*~*~*

You are laughing at a long joke Stan told that you had no idea was a setup until you reached the punchline, and he opens the front door to the house he shares with his twin brother Ford. You are about to ask for another joke when you hear Stan say "Huh. That's weird,"

"What?" you ask.

"The lights aren't comin' on," Stan answers. He puts you behind him and calls out "Ford?" Nothing. "Ford?" the house is still quiet. "Stanford?"

"Do you want to split up?" you ask. "I'm sure he's probably just asleep somewhere..."

Stan snorts. "Yeah, probably. But we'd better stick together- Ford and Fidds have got some crazy stuff running."

You gulp and nod your head, gripping onto Stan's hand.

He leads you through the living room/lab, and the creepy feeling disappears for a brief moment as you admire the T-Rex skull in an aquarium. But Stan once more calls out for his brother, and you feel worried again.

The two of you stop just outside of the swinging door that leads to the storage room. But before you can go through it, Stan pulls you back and puts a finger to your lips. You blush at the contact, and despite the situation, Stan winks.

Then he leans over, listening intently, and you follow suit. You hear what sounds like a one sided conversation, complete with pauses as if waiting for the second party to participate.

"So ya see, Sixer," comes Ford's voice. "I can do anything I want like this! Build that portal, enslave your family, and," here he drops to a whisper. "Make it so you can never use your body again."

In a split second Stan bursts through the door, keeping you behind him and brandishing brass knuckles (you have no idea where those came from) in an offensive stance. "Wh-" he stops in confusion. And he has every right to, because despite what the two of you heard, it was just Ford standing there in the middle of the storage room- no one else in sight. "Ford?" Stan asks. "I thought I heard you talking to someone..." he trailed off as Ford tilted his neck to one side, so you can see his glowing yellow eyes with the narrow pupils.

"WHOA!" Stan says, jumping back. "You ain't Ford! Who are you? Where is he? What did you do to him? What did you mean he can never use his body again?"

The man-who-is-not-Ford gives the two of you a creepy smile.

"Oh don't worry," he says, showing way too many teeth. "He's fine! Just... floating around! Nothing can hurt him! Of course," he pauses, and his smile becomes even more manic. "Nothing can help him either. But as for you two..." he begins to walk forward "Bad things happen when you witness whispers you're not supposed to hear..."

Chapter Text

"There you are!" your sister says frantically as you walk through the back door of the bakery the two of you run. Her arms are covered in flour and she is elbow deep in kneading dough. "I was starting to think I'd have to open the shop myself, and then this batch of cinnamon bread would have gone to waste!"

"Relax, Anna," you say. "I made it back in time- we don't open for another two minutes. And I was just making the usual deliveries, no harm done!"

"You were twenty minutes later than you usually are," Anna points out. Then she gives you a Look. "You were chatting up that Stan Pines out at the Mystery Shack again, weren't you?"

You feel your face get hot. "'Chatting up'? Please. He's just a really fun guy to talk to. Aren't girls and guys allowed to talk to each other?"

"Yeah, that's why you're blushing." your sister says. "Just girls and guys talking to each other."

"Blushing? Are you kidding me? This kitchen is full of ovens- of course I'm going to be red." You give her a mischievous grin. "Not as red as you are."

"You know he's just trying to get a discount," Anna ignores you and grunts as she picks up the enormous hunk of dough then slams it down on the counter. "Everyone in town says he's a cheapskate and kind of a con man."

You cannot believe the audacity of your sister. But when you open your mouth to tell her off, you hear the front door to the bakery rattle as someone tries to open it. You point a finger at Anna. "We're done talking about this," you say, and go to open up the bakery.

You put on a big smile as you walk through the kitchen door to the customer area of the bakery, and within a couple of minutes you have the door unlocked, the music playing, and have made the first sales of the day.

The morning rush has ended, so now you can start letting your mind wander as you wipe down counters. And of course it goes back to the conversation with Anna. 'Just trying to get a discount.' As if you would be swayed by someone flirting with you to give them a discount. And not Stan. Your conversations were sincere... weren't they? It was mostly him talking about all of these weird situations he had found himself in... in fact, you barely could call it flirting at all! Because it wasn't! It was just a man telling great stories while he flashed a grin at you, making you feel like the two of you were the only people in the world. Just you and...

"Stan!" you say suddenly, startled out of your musings by the very person you were thinking of.

"Heya, toots," he says, leaning on the counter with one elbow. You feel your face go hot again. Those stupid ovens really made everything warm, didn't they? "How's it hanging?"

"Good, good," you say, still trying to recover from the surprise. "What are you doing here? Was everything OK with your order?"

"Oh yeah, it's great, thanks. I, uh... I wanted to bring you back your phone- you left it behind at my place this morning." He holds out the phone, giving you a slightly wicked grin as if aware of what that may have sounded like to anyone who would overhear.

"Geez, thank you!" you say frantically as you take it back. "I didn't even notice it was missing!" You put it in your pocket then look back at Stan. "Thank you for coming all the way out here to give it back!"

"No problem," he says. "I just wanted to... wanted to ask...uh," he seems to suddenly be sweating, and you once more curse the ovens in the back. "Oh, uh, try a pumpkin croissant!" he points to the cabinet.

"Oh!" you say, and for some reason are slightly disappointed. "These are one of my favorites- they're seasonal, so if you like it and want them in your order you'll have to specifically ask." You grab the tongs to take out the pastry. "For here or to go?" you ask.

"Here." he says immediately, then clears his throat and says, "I mean, the Shack's tours don't start for another hour. Not like I got anything better to do."

"Good choice," you say, happy that you get to talk to him a little longer, and ring up the croissant for which he pays full price.

Take that, Anna.

~*~*~*~*~*

The next week after you make deliveries, he shows up with your wallet. You can't believe you dropped something again at Stan's place, but once again thank him, and he once again orders a pastry (an apple cider whoopie pie) to eat at the bakery while the two of you chat.

The third week this happens, you can't believe your carelessness. You somehow had left the clipboard with the delivery receipts on the counter in Stan's gift shop, even though you swore you didn't even take it out of the van. But, as was becoming tradition, Stan ordered a pastry (a maple muffin) and stayed to talk to you in the bakery.

As you close up shop for the day, Anna emerges from the kitchen. "So... maybe I was wrong."

"You'll have to be more specific," you tease, but Anna just rolls her eyes.

"This Stan guy. He seems to really like you. I mean, why else would he drive all the way out here every time you forget something from your deliveries?"

"Ha! See, I told you he wasn't a conman," you say happily.

"I didn't say that," Anna responds.

"Oh come on, he pays full price-" you start, but Anna interrupts you.

"Don't you think it's weird the things left behind are always at his place?"

Things suddenly click for you, and after a moment of outrage you smile to yourself and start to ponder your next move.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next week at around the same time as Stan would usually show up, you get a phone call instead. Since there are currently no customers at the bakery, you pull out your phone and answer it. "Hello?"

"Heya," comes Stan's voice from the other end of the line. "So... what's up with the paper you, uh, dropped?"

"Well, as you can probably guess, it had my phone number on it," you say lightly.

"Yeah, but, 'stop stealing from me just call'?" he reads off the paper you stuck in your pocket on purpose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know you've been picking my pocket when I come do deliveries for you," you say. "As an excuse to come talk to me more."

The line is silent for a moment, then Stan says. "I ain't admitting nothin'... but, uh hypothetically if that was what happened, would you..." you hear him gulp. "Would you be mad at me?"

You laugh. "Nah. It's actually... actually kind of sweet." you make a face. "In a really weird way."

He chuckles. "Yeah, OK. But... so... uh, now that I got your number... you wanna go bowlin' or something with me Thursday night?"

It takes all you have not to jump up and down that your plan worked. "Yeah, that sounds great!" you say, trying to keep your cool.

"All right," Stan answers. "See you then."

"Wait, before you hang up," you say quickly. "How did you get my clipboard?"

"Ha, nice try toots," he says, and you can hear his smirk through the phone. "I got no idea what you're talkin' about."

You sigh and can't help but grin. "Hypothetically, if one were to grab my clipboard out of my delivery van without me noticing, how would one do it?"

Stan chuckles again, then says, "Hypothetically, one would get my handyman to grab it while we were talkin'," he pauses. "But of course, I didn't take anything. You just left 'em behind."

"Oh of course," you say seriously, even though you are unable to quit smiling. "And I'm sure glad I did."

Chapter Text

You wake up with a gasp, sitting up with a start and trying to get your breath back. Your eyes wildly go back and forth, taking in your surroundings as you try to process what is going on.

You scramble up off the snowy ground, too confused and scared to let the cold bother you, remembering Stan teasing you for complaining about snow in October-

Wait... Stan. You were... you were walking home with Stan. The two of you had been running into each other around town for months, and tonight at the grocery store, you found yourself inviting him over to your place to cook dinner. Ha, yes, that's right, he was skeptical that any recipe with that many vegetables could taste good, so you challenged him to come over and see. Yes, even then you knew he was probably setting you up to invite him over, but you didn't care. It was time to see where this thing between the two of you was going to go.

And sure enough, your grocery bags are sitting a few steps away from you, leaning against a wall and apparently unharmed.

Wait. You are nowhere near your place. What were your groceries doing neatly waiting for you? Why would you stop halfway home?

Oh.

Yes, Stan had been teasing you for complaining about the snow. You told him it wasn't funny, that you seriously were cold, and that the two of you needed to walk faster to get back home. But instead of letting you grumpily speed walk through the town, Stan took your grocery bags and leaned them against the wall so nothing would fall over.

You sighed. "What are you doing?" you remember asking.

"Tryin' to warm you up," he said with a little smirk as he walked back to you.

You remember being completely confused and a little annoyed, but before you could say anything-

He kissed you. He put his hands on both of your cheeks and brought your mouth to meet his in a perfect, passionate motion. You remember your little noise of surprise that quickly turned into a blissful hum, and you felt your entire body relax and your eyes close. You slid your hands up his chest, feeling his warmth even through his jacket, and grabbed his collar to bring him in closer-

But... that was the last thing you could remember.

So where was Stan?

The panic you had already been feeling in the back of your mind began to grow, and you started calling his name, each time more frantic than the last. What happened?

But then you see it.

Blood on the snow.

In terrified clarity, you see that the blood has left a trail, leading to the woods. You start running, still calling out Stan's name as you race through the trees, not caring if you find your way out again, knowing it won't matter if you don't find-

And there he is, sitting on the ground and leaning against a tree with his eyes closed, covered in red and blessedly breathing heavily.

"Stan!" you say, joy and horror fighting for dominance, and you race over to him to kneel down near him. "What happened? Are you OK?"

He opens his eyes and gives you a weak smile. "Yeesh, kid, I'm glad you're OK. That thing knocked you right out."

Your eyes widen. "What thing?"

Stan motions with his chin to a lump a few steps beyond the tree he's leaning against. You get up and cautiously walk over to see something that looks very much like a large dog or...

"I'm pretty sure I killed it," he says, and you turn back to him to see the silvery glint of a knife in one hand. "But it got a few hits in too..."

Suddenly your brain starts working again, and you quickly go back to Stan. "We have to get you to a hospital- you've lost a lot of blood."

He shook his head then chuckled for a split second before sharply inhaling with a wince. "Nah." he says, "It ain't my blood. At least, most of it ain't." he said. "I think I mighta broken some ribs though..."

"Then we still need to get you to a hospital," you say firmly. "You-"

"Hey kid," Stan says suddenly. "What... what do y'know about... werewolves?"

Your blood freezes. You've never met any before, but this is Gravity Falls, so it's not unlikely you'd run into one... "Why?" you ask, your voice shaking. "Do you think you were bitten?"

"No," Stan says, then swallows and moves his chin towards to your left arm. "But I think you were."

Chapter Text

Mr. Mystery's default expression is a false smile.

Yes, it's huge- he's always grinning, always laughing, always putting on a show. The smile never reaches his eyes, but he is too loud and too quick and too entertaining for people to notice. They leave the Mystery Shack with lighter pockets, some goofy photographs, and an interesting anecdote about their vacation to tell their neighbors and coworkers, never sparing the proprietor a second thought.

But when they leave the Mystery Shack, Mr. Mystery disappears and becomes Stan Pines, his smile immediately dropping to a tired frown as he locks the door to the gift shop and flips the sign to read "closed".

You are one of the few people to see the transformation, and it hasn't changed since you started working at the Mystery Shack. You also are probably one of the few people to ever notice his smile is fake, and, meddler that you are, make it your mission to see what Stan Pines looks like with a genuine grin.

You've been failing for months.

Your attempts at being extra hardworking just make him tell you he's not paying you extra. Your cheerful conversations as he counts the money and you get the gift shop set up for the next day are met with sarcastic replies. And yes, your jokes make him laugh, but only in a bitter, sardonic way, which is almost worse than if he didn't laugh at all.

But you won't give up.

Even if you are running out of ideas.

It's a slower than usual day, so you decide to turn on the radio while dusting the shelves. Having the entire gift shop to yourself has you feeling a bit giddy, and you sing along to the 70s songs playing, finding yourself taking an extra shuffle here and a little twirl there as you move through the room. You start to spin around and around during one particular guitar solo, holding the dust rag above your head like it's some sort of scarf-

and nearly run into Stan.

"Oh Mr. Pines, you scared me!" you say, and back away so there is a little more distance between you. "Sorry, sometimes I don't always pay attention when I dance-"

"You call that dancing?" he asks, his eyebrow raised and a slightly... mean look on his face. You recognize that look- it's the one he wears when he's about to laugh at someone for slipping and falling or saying something stupid.

You sigh. "I just really like the song. And," you add slightly defensively. "It's not like anyone's here to see me."

"An' what if a customer walked in? They'd see your terrible moves and instantly walk back out," he said, shaking his head.

And it's then that you have had it.

All the months you have worked here, all the extra things you've done to try to make him happy, all the times you've been nice to Stan Pines, and he still acts like a jerk. And this was it. You're not going to try to be nice anymore.

"I'd like to see you do better," you say tartly. "I bet you'd send them running with how bad you would look."

He lets out a bitter laugh. "Shows how much you know, kid. I've won prizes for my dancing."

Now it's your turn for a dark chuckle. "What prizes? Worse Rhythm? Most Likely to Lose to a Plank of Wood?" you shake your head. "There's no way you can dance- all you do is fake people out and scowl when no one's look-"

But you're cut off as he sweeps you into his arms and begins dancing with you in perfect time to the current song.

Your shock soon fades away and you begin to relax into the music, noticing that Stan not only knows the steps, but knows how to guide you with him. His hands are strong and steady and his footwork is fast but sure, and the two of you glide around the gift shop, getting lost in the song. You can't help but laugh with joy as Stan spins you out, and to your surprise you see a smile- a real, honest, reflected-in-his-eyes smile on his face as well.

The song fades away and the DJ starts talking, and suddenly you realize the two of you have stopped moving. Stan is still holding you close against him, one hand on the small of your back and the other holding your hand. You stare into his eyes as the two of you try to get your breath back, both of you breathing in sync. A bead of sweat falls slowly from his temple, and your eyes follow it until you get distracted by his lips, framed by his perfect stubble-

Stan suddenly steps back and lets you go, looking away from you for a moment before meeting your gaze again, and to your chagrin he has put on a smirk. "Toldja," he says. Then he scowls. "Now get back to work." He turns to go into the museum.

"Thank you," you blurt out, and he turns around. You feel like withering under his expectant look, but you are still so full of adrenaline and... something else... that you have the courage to press on. "That was really fun."

He looks surprised for a moment, then his face relaxes into another sincere smile. "Any time, toots." he says. He looks at you for a few moments, and your heart begins to race, then he turns away quickly and ducks into the museum.

Well. Mission accomplished, you guess. You got to see Stan's real smile.

And you can't wait to see it again.

Chapter Text

You were not having a good night.

Somehow two rival biker gangs had decided they both wanted to stop at your little watering hole in the middle-of-nowhere-Mississippi at the same time. The tension in the room had been building all evening, but you did your best to diffuse it by loading the jukebox with feel-good songs, giving everyone an extra big smile and bringing out your cheesiest jokes. But as the night wore on, it was clear nothing was going to help. And just as you decide to shut down early and start reaching for the closing bell-

All hell breaks lose.

It seems like five fights start at once, and before you know it bottles are being smashed, chairs are being thrown, and every table had been flipped over. And before you can digest everything that's happening, the mirror behind the bar shatters, causing you to duck under the bar counter, a billiard ball that someone had thrown rolling to a stop by your feet.

You need to shut this down now. You turn slightly to the shelves under the counter to grab your shotgun, intending to use it to get everyone's attention and get them out of there-

but the shelf where it's supposed to be is empty.

You stare at the blank space dumbly, panic welling in your chest. What are you going to do? They were going to destroy everything, not to mention the possibility of someone getting seriously hurt or worse... and here you are, defenseless, with nothing but a bar between you and what was rapidly becoming a violent mob-

A gunshot echoes through the room, and suddenly everything is silent.

"Where's the bartender?" a gravelly, authoritative voice asks.

A cop? No, not out here; it was was too remote...

You slowly stand up, ready to take charge no matter who it was-

and to your relief you see one of your regulars, Andrew Alcatraz standing in the doorway-

standing in the doorway with your gun.

It's pointed at the ceiling, still smoking from his attention-getting shot, and even though you are used to seeing him being charming and giving you cheesy grins to get a free drink, right now his face is solid, menacing stone.

He owns the room.

"I'm right here," you say in a clear, strong voice. And before the spell can be broken, you say, "And these gentlemen were just leaving... weren't you boys?"

The brawlers glance at you, then at Andrew with the shotgun. He's still holding it up in the air, finger not on the trigger, but there's a lazy yet dangerous smile on his face, and it's obvious he means business. "Guess I'd better get outta the way then," He deliberately steps to the side, extending his free arm to the door. "After you," he growls.

Everyone is frozen, until one of the leaders nods and breaks the spell, silently moving out of the bar, everyone else following. You and Andrew both don't change position, calmly watching the bikers leave.

When the sound of the last motorcycle engine fades away, you take a few steps to leave the bar counter, your despair growing as you survey the damage. This was going to take forever to clean up...

"You OK, toots?" Andrew asks. You tear yourself away from looking at a broken chair, and see what seems to be real concern in his eyes.

"Yeah..." you say in a faraway voice. Then suddenly your temper flares up as you remember something. "What are you doing with my gun?" you yell.

"Whoa, hang on there!" he says, and puts the gun down carefully, putting up both hands. "I needed it for a clay pigeon shooting contest down the road- I didn't think you'd need it-"

"You were wrong!" You shout. "And why didn't you just ask me..." suddenly all the fear and hopelessness and betrayal seems to wash over you, and you start sobbing. "...in the first place?"

Andrew's eyes widen, and before you know it he has enveloped you in a hug, gently stroking your hair as you cry into his chest.

After a few moments you get a hold of yourself, and back out of his unresisting arms. "Thank you," you say. "And thank you for saving me."

"Heh. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't need me t' save you," he says, embarrassed. Then his expression suddenly changes into concern. "Aw, no, you're bleeding," he says, and you look at your upper arm to see some sort of cut.

"It must be from the broken mirror," you say, but even before you finish the sentence, Andrew is behind the bar, grabbing a clean rag and your first aid kit.

"How did you know where-" you start, then shake your head. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"I've worked at a lotta bars in my day," he says, and rights two chairs, gently pushing you down in one and sitting in the other. "They usually are pretty much the same." He starts to clean your arm.

"Even with shotguns under the counter?" you ask wryly.

"Yup," he says without a hint of shame, opening the first aid kit and easily taking out the iodine and some bandages.

You roll your eyes. "So how did the competition-" you stop and hiss at the sting as the iodine hits your cut. "turn out?"

"Not bad," he says. "I got second place. Not as big of a cash prize as I was planning, though." He shrugs as he wraps the bandage around your arm. He finishes with the bandage and deftly puts everything back in the first aid kid. "There ya go."

"Thank you," you say softly.

He looks slightly embarrassed. "It's the least I can do."

You snort. "Yeah it is... or you could help me clean up, and I'd say we're even."

He lets out a low chuckle, but to your surprise he nods. "All right, I guess that's fair."

You look at him in surprise, but he just winks at you. "All right," you say, slightly nonplussed, but get up to get the broom. You turn around to see Andrew put a few coins in the jukebox, playing one of your favorite songs and shaking his hips as he rights the furniture, already lightening the mood.

And just like that, your night is starting to look a little better.

Chapter Text

"Give us one good reason why we shouldn't take him with us," the nymph behind Stan sneers. Her nails dig into his shoulders, and her other two sisters are holding either arm with inhuman strength.

"Look, ladies," Stan starts with a nervous chuckle, "Not that you ain't gorgeous, but you don't really want-" but he is cut off with a strangled sound as flowers poof into existence in his mouth, acting as a gag and preventing him from continuing to speak.

"We didn't ask you," the nymph says sharply, then once more looks at you with feral intensity. "Now. Why do you think you can tell us what to do with our rightfully captured prey?"

"I-" you start, "He... he means a lot to a lot of people! He's a brother and an uncle and a mentor and explorer... and really brings some color to the town-"

"You have said many words, but did not answer our question," the head nymph interrupts. "What gives you the right?"

"He's... he's my boss..." you say helplessly. "Er... my boss' boss..."

The two nymphs holding Stan's arms titter in mocking laughter, and the head nymph looks incredibly unimpressed. She begins some sort of song in a language you don't recognize, and the nymphs slowly sinking back into the trees, bringing Stan with them.

Stan looks at you with panic and hope in his face, and you know there's only one more thing you can do, even if you'll never hear the end of it.

"I love him, OK?" you shout, tears of embarrassment and fear starting to collect in your eyes. "He's so funny and charismatic and brave and so incredibly loyal to his family and friends!" And now that the dam you had carefully built over the whole time you knew Stan has burst, you can't stop the flood of reasons why you've fallen in love. "He tells such stupid stories but I'm always hanging on every word, and his terrible puns make me groan but I secretly think they're really clever! And he dances and speaks Spanish, and he boxes and he's so strong and his hair just falls perfectly over his forehead, and his laugh is so loud but hearing it makes me know he's happy, which is all I've ever wanted!" Tears are now streaming down your face, and you stare down the nymphs with a fierce gleam in your eyes. "I love Stan Pines and you cannot take him!"

The nymphs look shocked for a few moments, then their faces fade into misty smiles, changing their fearful faces to something sweet and beautiful. "Well. We cannot interfere with true love." The head nymph nods to you, and she and the other two release Stan, and soon disappear into the trees.

You run towards Stan, not fast enough to catch him before he falls to the ground. "Stan!" you shout, sliding down into a kneel to help him up. He frantically claws the flowers out of his mouth with both hands, and after a solid minute of coughing and spitting, he takes a deep breath and relaxes against a boulder, looking up at the sky and closing his eyes.

"Are you OK?" you ask tentatively.

"Yeah." he says. "I dunno what it is with these supernatural babes..." He opens his eyes and moves to face you, but you can't bear to look at him. "Hey," he says, "Did you really mean all that stuff?"

"I-" you start, then he interrupts.

"An' don't lie t'me. I'm a world class liar, I can tell when I'm bein' lied to."

You take a deep breath, still not looking at him. "Yeah. I really meant it all."

"And why am I just findin' out about this now?" he asks, sounding annoyed.

You turn to face him, ready to plead your defense. "Oh come on, Stan. What would be the point? You're my boss's boss, you're traveling all the time, we're so different to the point where it might just be scandalous, and of course who knows if you even like me back! And why would you? I'm just-"

"Kid," Stan says wholeheartedly. "Shut up."

And before you can respond, he has you in a kiss.

It's everything you've ever imagined it to be and more, because this time his scratchy stubble and strong arms are real. He brings you closer to him against the boulder, to the point where you are kneeling on either side of him, savoring the way the two of you seem to fit together perfectly and thinking the kiss would never end.

When you finish he shifts so the two of you are sitting against the boulder, still holding each other close, and just enjoying the silence after.

You don't know what's going to happen next, but in this moment Stan is yours and you are his, and that's all that really matters.

Chapter Text

"One for Forgotten Oath, please," you say to the girl working the ticket booth at the Glass Shard Beach Movie Theater.

You hear a snort behind you and turn around to see your classmate Stan Pines, wearing his usual jeans and white T-shirt, along with a mocking look on his face. "Forgotten Oath? Seriously? You're wastin' your money on a re-showing of that corny old stuff?"

"For your information, it is a classic." you say primly, and quickly turn around and thank the cashier as you take your ticket. "The medieval costumes alone are worth the ticket, but the sweeping love story about the princess and knight is just..." you struggle to find a word and finally settle on "perfect. They just don't make movies like that anymore."

"Yeah, 'cause they're dumb," Stan says, unimpressed.

You cross your arms. "And I'll bet you're here to see Giant Bug Blood Splatter II ?"

Stan looks up at the marquee, then nods casually. "Yup."

Now it's your turn to scoff. "You wouldn't know a good movie if it hit you over the head,"

Stan just shrugs and gives you a smirk, "What can I say? I know what I like,"

You roll your eyes, then throw up your arms in defeat. "Fine. Whatever. I don't know why I'm wasting my time with you; I need to grab a seat." And you turn around without another word and walk into the theater lobby.

The familiar smell of movie popcorn instantly lifts your sour mood, and makes you wonder why you care so much what Stan Pines thinks of you. He's just a guy from school! A funny, exciting, mischievous, and, um, really good-looking guy from school...

with terrible taste in movies.

The fact shakes you out of your thoughtfulness, and you head to the snack bar.

~*~*~*~*~

The theater is packed. You weren't lying when you told Stan it was a classic, even though it was coming up on being a 30 year old movie, people still love to see it. Most of the seats were taken by couples or groups, but you are able to find a seat near the edge, keeping an open space between you and the next group. As the minutes count down until showtime, all of the seats are taken except the one next to you on the right. Not a bad deal.

The lights go dim, and you straighten up in anticipation. The music swells and the title card flows elegantly across the screen, soon fading into the list of the cast...

But for a split second your view is blocked by someone slipping by you to sit in that last empty seat on your right. You look over to smile at them to let them know it's OK-

and see Stan.

Your jaw drops. "What are you doing here?" you hiss.

"I'm not," he mutters. "You never saw me."

"No!" you whisper indignantly. "You were just outside making fun of this movie-"

"I didn't want anyone to know I was here, OK?" Stan hisses back. "I love this movie, but if anyone saw me I'd never hear the end of it!"

"Oh." you say. That actually made sense... in a dumb, teenage boy way. "Well, you didn't have to make fun of-" but you are cut off by the angry shushing of the person in front of you, and they turn around to glare.

"Sorry," you whisper, and settle into your seat. You take one last look at Stan, who winks at you, and you can't help but smile.

~*~*~*~*~

The final scene fades to the words "The End" before the screen turns black and the lights go up. You are wiping tears from your eyes- the ending still gets you- and look over at Stan to see his eyes are red too.

"Pretty good ending, right?" you ask.

"Enh, it's fine, I guess. I really just like the sword fights." he sniffs.

You hand him a tissue, which he takes and blows his nose. "They really gotta work on cleanin' this theater better. All this dust is makin' my nose run."

"Right, the dust," you say as you stand up. Stan follows suit, and the two of you filter out of the theater with the rest of the crowd.

But right before you get to the lobby, Stan takes you by the hand and pulls you into a corner. You are surprised at how close the two of you are, and it seems all of your senses are suddenly hyper-focused on him...

"Look, you gotta promise not to tell anyone I was here, OK?" he asks.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, then let out a little laugh. Of course that's what he was doing. "Promise." you say. He starts to sag in relief, but then you put up an index finger "IF-" you start.

"If what?" he asks suspiciously.

"If you promise not to tease me about the movies I like anymore." you say.

Stan relaxes. "Aw, c'mon toots, I was just tryin' to throw you off the scent..." he says. "The plan was that no one would see me, but when you did, I had to make a big deal about not seeing Forgotten Oath. I was going to sneak in the theater after the movie started so you wouldn't be the wiser, but... well, you know how that turned out."

You give a little laugh. "Yeah. You know," you say, "I didn't mind sitting next to someone who enjoyed the movie as much as I did,"

"Yeah. Me neither." he says.

"Um, so... if you ever need someone to watch cheesy old movies with, let me know." You wink at him. "And if someone sees us, you can always say I made you go."

"Yeah?" Stan brightens. "Heh. I like that." The two of you smile at each other for a few heartbeats, then Stan starts to move and you follow.

"I think Measure of a Promise is playing next week," you say, "What do you think?"

Stan has mischief in his eyes as he answers, "It's a date."

Chapter Text

"Rahr!"

The unexpected shout combined with the shock of a horrific corpse face suddenly in front of you causes you to let out an involuntary shriek and slap the monster in the jaw.

"Ow!" the corpse says with a muffled complaint, and once the momentary fright has left you, you realize it's just Stan in a mask, even before he struggles out of it, silver hair sticking out in all different directions.

"Sorry!" you say, mostly sincere and mortified, although a little part of you thinks he deserved it. "That's why I don't like going through those haunted houses- when I get startled I hit things!" You gently put a hand on his chin. "Are you all right?"

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, giving the inside of your wrist a little kiss, and smiles when you slightly shiver. "Yeah, I am now."

"Glad to help," you say softly.

He snorts, breaking the moment. "It was your fault in the first place."

Your jaw drops in indignation. "But it was your fault-" but you stop because he's grinning at you, knowing exactly what he's doing. "I swear, Stanley..." you say, slapping him on the arm, but this time on purpose and very lightly.

He shrugs. "Anyway, I was thinkin' this might be great for Soos' first Halloween party at the Shack- it'll scare the pants off the kids!" he says excitedly.

"Put it in the cart!" you agree happily. The two of you continue down the aisles of the Halloween store. "Oooo, look at this!" You pick up a box with a photo of a bubbling cauldron in it. "It says it's a cooler for drinks!"

"That'll be perfect. An' afterwards, me an' Ford might take that with us next time we go out on the Stan O'War II," Stan says approvingly. "Put 'er in,"

The cart is full when you and Stan go to wait in line to check out, and you idly are looking through the impulse items on the shelves as you wait for your turn. It's mostly Halloween makeup, but one piece catches your eye.

"Stan! These glow!" you hold out a package of contacts. "So people can see your eyes in the dark!"

Stan looks at them for a moment, then shudders. "Nah, too creepy." he says.

"Too creepy?" you look at the cart. "Stan, what have we been doing this whole time if not trying to get things to get creepy?"

Stan shrugs. "Look, we just... we don't do glowing eyes in our family."

You are slightly nonplussed. "That's... that's a weirdly specific thing to avoid. What, did you have a bad experience with some knockoff contacts?" you ask, only half joking.

Stan looks you in the eye, and kind of looks... serious. "How long have we been dating?"

"Six months and three weeks," you say promptly.

He raises his eyebrows. "That long, huh?" he asks. "Well, wait another six months, and if you're still around, I'll tell you the story. It's... kind of a weird one, and kind of... personal for the family."

"If I stick around?" you ask indignantly. "If? Of course I'm sticking around!"

"You'd be the first one who did," Stan says casually, as if it's a fact and not the very sad statement it is.

"And I'll be the last," you say firmly. "Come on, Stan," you slip your arms around one of his. "The only way to get rid of me will be to dump me yourself. Otherwise I'm in it for the long haul."

Now it's Stan's turn to look nonplussed. "Oh. Well, I- really?" he takes a deep breath, then chuckles. "OK," he says.

Satisfied with his reaction and loving Stan enough to not pry, you give his arm an extra squeeze and the two of you take another couple of steps in the cashier's line.

It's not until the El Diablo's out of the parking lot, full of Halloween goodies, that Stan says, "so this story is real personal to Ford an' Dipper an' Mabel an' me. We... don't always look perfect in this story, but we were just actin' the best we knew how at the time. Can I count on you to keep it close to the vest?"

You nod, not smiling to show how serious you are, and to not scare him off with excitement.

"OK- and no leaving because of it," he says. "It'll sound crazy, but I swear it's all true."

"I trust you, Stanley," you say, "And like I said, I'm not going anywhere. And I swear I won't tell another soul."

"Fine." he lets out a long breath of air, then looks over at you. "Whaddya know about demon possession?"

Chapter Text

You stare up at the ceiling of the cheap motel, wishing you were anywhere else.

You've cried the last tears you had hours ago, and now all you have to your name is a duffle bag, some cash, and a car that just broke down on the side of the road. The future looks impossible and bleak.

You hear what sounds like an tense conversation from the other room. You wouldn't even have to put your ear against the paper thin walls to make out the actual words, but you're too busy trying to figure out what to do with your life... or even how to survive the next day- to worry about someone else's problems.

When suddenly a man crashes through the wall of your motel room, his back hitting the side of your bed. You shriek and roll off the other side to get out of the way, completely confused as to what's happening. He coughs weakly from the impact and the drywall dust, and takes a moment to observe his new surroundings. He makes eye contact with you and gives you a sly yet slightly concussed smile. "Am I dead?" he slurs. "'Cause I think I see an angel."

Before you can even think of a response, another man slowly walks in, carrying something long and scary looking in one hand, and tapping the other end against his upright palm. Geez, is that a crowbar?

"Give up, Forrester," Crowbar Man says to the guy who crashed into your room.

"It wasn't me, Frank!" the first man- Forrester, you guess is his name- says. "I know better than to mess with the ponies- where's the fun if you know how it's gonna end?"

Frank shrugs. "Some people like money. Like me. And I hate getting cheated out of it."

Forrester unsteadily stands up, holding up his hands. "C'mon, pal!" He quickly looks over his shoulder at you again, then turns back to Frank. "You don't wanna do anything with witnesses, do you?"

Frank doesn't even make eye contact with you. "You're acting like this is my first rodeo. I'll take care of her too."

Your jaw drops in shock at the supreme unfairness of it all. You weren't even supposed to be here, but you did everything you could, and now your life was about to end...

But maybe you could do something about this.

You grab the heavy lamp on the nightstand and shout "Take care of this!" before you fling it. OK, so it wasn't a good line at all, but you had more pressing matters, like hitting Frank in the head.

Apparently it wasn't good aim either, for the lamp crashed rather pathetically on the floor next to Frank.

He looked down at the shattered pottery, then back at you with hatred in his eyes...

which was just enough of a distraction for Forrester to punch Frank hard in the jaw with a left hook, unbalancing him enough that Forrester is able to grab the crowbar out of Frank's hands, then with a heavy grunt, hits Frank upside the head with it.

And Frank crumples to the ground.

Forrester stands there for a few moments, breathing heavily, then shakes his head violently as if to wake himself up, a puff of drywall coming off his short brown hair, and begins coming toward you.

You take a step backward, but he puts up the hand not holding the crowbar. "Whoa now Angel, it's OK. I ain't gonna bite." He swallows. "But we gotta get outta here now."

"Is he dead?" you whisper, horrified.

Forrester looks at him, then back at you. "Nah, he'll be fine. But we won't if we don't leave." He takes your hand, and you barely think to grab your bag before he drags you out the door.

"Who... who are you?" you ask.

Forrester looks at you. "I'm Hal- Andre- Stets-," then he rolls his eyes. "I'm Stan, OK? An' I'm sorry you got mixed up in this, but I swear I'm gonna keep you safe." He looks around the parking lot. "You got a car?"

"Yeah, but it's... it's broken down about a mile up-"

"Good, it's easier if we take mine." He leads you to a sixties-style El Diablo, opening the passenger door, then takes your bag and tosses both it and the crowbar in the back seat. "C'mon, get in."

Still in complete shock, you dumbly do as your told. He's in the driver's seat and gets the engine running in moments, and soon the two of you are roaring down the highway into the night.

"Where's home?" Stan asks after a few minutes of silence. "I'll get you there, then you can pretend like none of this happened,"

"Oh, uh... I don't really have one," you say. "It's... a recent development."

"Heh," Stan says. "Been there. Lotsa times. Apparently now again, too."

"I'm sorry," you say in sympathy.

"Enh, it happens," he answers. "As you know."

This close to him you can see his hair is starting to get a little shaggy, but it looks kind of good. He hasn't shaved in a few days, but it works in a rugged adventurer way. As your heartbeat finally starts to slow down, your thoughts start working again. "Thank you," you say. "For saving me."

He glances at you, and one of the streetlights reflects off of his grin. "Well, I wasn't about to let a pretty girl like you get in trouble for bein' in the wrong place in the wrong time," he says. "But thank you for the lamp thing. Couldn't've done it without ya." He chuckles a little. "Guess you really are an angel."

"I don't follow," you tell him hesitantly.

"Y'know, like a guardian angel? Ain't those supposed to be a thing?" he sighs. "Mine's been slacking off for the past few years."

"Yeah, mine too," you say.

He chuckles. "We should write a nasty letter to the complaints department," he says.

The thought of an angel complaints department is such a silly picture you can't help but laugh.

Stan looks over at you again, and then back at the road. He's silent for a few moments, then says. "Hey, since we both seem to have been ditched... wanna try being each other's guardian angels for a while? We probably should at least get outta the state, so we'll be together anyway..."

You pause. Not like you have anything better to do. But it's more than that. Despite being in a car with a strange man, despite almost being killed, and despite everything that has happened to you in the past few days, you feel... peace.

"Yeah, OK," you say. "Thank you." You give him a smile, and even though his eyes are mostly on the road, he smiles too.

Maybe you don't have to write a nasty letter to the guardian angel complaint department after all.

Chapter Text

It had been a week. A week since the best kiss of your life. You've played it over in your head at least a hundred times the past seven days- talking to Stan as the two of you closed up the gift shop, chatting and laughing about the shenanigans that happened throughout the day.

And, ha, how you were walking around the cashier's desk to grab the little trashcan to empty it, when you took a wrong step and tripped. Stan was close enough that he automatically put out his arms, preventing you from falling, and within a few moments he had straightened you up, holding on to your arms and standing an inch away from you.

Even now, you remember how that moment crystalized. How all you could see was his eyes, the pupils dilated as he stared at you, the two of you drawing together, slowly at first, and then-

You suddenly were locked in a deep, passionate kiss with Stan Pines.

Everything was a blur as the two of you staggered around the room, hands alternately caressing and grasping, gasping instead of wasting time to properly breathe. You remember the feel of his cheap dress shirt, the contours of his biceps, the thickness of his hair, the heat of his kisses as he greedily continued drinking you in-

and then you heard Soos call for Stan, and the two of you immediately separated and went back to what you were doing before. Soos never suspected a thing.

But it's been a week, and... he's still acting as if nothing happened.

You are driving yourself crazy wondering what to do next. Your feelings for Stan have only increased since the kiss, but you have no idea how he feels. But judging by the way he's acting, it's not the same as you do.

By the end of the day you've made up your mind to quit. You can't continue to act as if nothing has changed, not when you see him every day, telling dumb jokes and long stories, when all you can do is remember that kiss.

"Stan," you say after the last customer leaves. "Can I, uh, talk to you?"

He chuckles nervously. "Can't say I ever liked a conversation that started with that,"

"No, I just wanted to give my notice." It takes everything you have, but you look him right in the eye. "Soos can run the register until you find-"

"Hang on, kid," Stan interrupts you. "You can't leave. You're great here! We work well together!" His face darkens. "You're not goin' to another tourist trap, are you? That guy from Upsidedown Town? Poachin' an employee is low, even for him-"

"I'm just an employee to you?" You ask, working hard to keep your emotions in check.

"Uh..." Stan says, starting to get a hunted look in his eyes. "Why do I get the feelin' I'm not supposed to say yes?"

Tears start to form in your eyes. "No, I'm sorry," you shake your head. "I have my answer."

"What answer?" Stan asked, completely bewildered.

And you finally can't take it anymore. "I don't want to be just... just a secret you regret!" you burst.

Stan stares at you, then starts laughing.

And you've had enough. You grab your bag and head towards the door-

But Stan stops laughing and grabs your hand, pulling you back so you once more end up in his arms.

"Hey," he says in a low voice, looking down at you. "I didn't bring it up because I thought you didn't want it brought up," He cracks a smirk. "But let me tell you- kissin' you was something' I've wanted to do for a long time,"

"Really?" you ask, your eyes shining.

"Yeah," he answers.

"Me too," you say softly. Then you let out a little laugh. "Maybe next time we should be better at talking about it,"

"Next time, hunh?" Stan growls, and pulls you in a little tighter and you feel your blood fizzle in anticipation. "If there's gonna be a next time... we'd better get started."

Chapter Text

When you became the assistant of one Stanford Pines, Ph.D (twelve times over), you expected long hours in a lab, some exciting field work, and, if the rumors were true, a run-in or two with creatures that might not be as fictional as everyone said...

What you didn't expect was to be sitting in a surveillance van outside of the back entrance one of the fanciest seafood restaurant in Oregon with Dr. Pines, getting his twin brother Stan ready to infiltrate a top-secret poker game.

"I think that'll do the trick, Sixer," Stan says, adjusting the bugged cufflinks on his shirt. He brings his wrist up to his mouth and says, "Testing, testing,"

You wince and rip off your headphones.

"No need to speak directly into the bugs, Stanley," Dr. Pines says matter-of-factly as you rub your ears. "They are very sensitive and will pick up the sound without you speaking directly into them."

"Pretty fancy," Stan responds. He looks at you. "You OK?"

"Yeah," you say, trying to smile at him. "Just startled." Your normal bubbly personality seems to shut down around him, and you barely can hold a conversation. You suspect it's because you subconsciously want him to like you, which is weird- he's not the brother you should be trying to impress.

But there's something about him that you just really... like. And you want him to feel the same way. Which unfortunately means that in every interaction you come across as really shy or, even worse- boring.

"Heh," he chuckles. "Maybe that's a good thing- you could use a little excitement in your life!"

You give him a weak smile before Dr. Pines jumps in. "I think helping infiltrate an illegal poker game full of local crime lords is excitement enough," he says wryly.

Your eyebrows jump up. "Crime lords?" you ask.

Stan glances at his brother. "You didn't tell her what we were doing?"

"I said we needed a certain voice to say certain words, and this game was the best way to record it," Dr. Pines responds, slightly impatiently. "I think it would be implied that the voice would need to be someone important, and the fact that it's an illegal game would lend itself to the inference that we would be recording crime lords."

"Ah," you say, a pit in your stomach. "I guess."

Stan rolls his eyes, then gives you a friendly nudge. "Don' worry about it kid, there ain't too many people who can read ol' Poindexter's mind- even if he forgets that sometimes!"

Dr. Pines looks a little embarrassed. "Guilty as charged!" He then looks at his watch. "You'd better head out now, Stanley,"

"Gotcha," Stan says, and stretches his neck back and forth. "Here we go."

"Stan," you say suddenly. He stops and the two brothers look at you expectantly. "Be careful." you say quietly.

Stan gives you a big grin. "Really kid, you gotta loosen up a little. I've done way crazier stuff than this- this'll be a walk in the park." He opens the sliding door of the van and gives his brother a two fingered salute. "See ya in a few," he says, and slams the door shut.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mr. Pinington," one of the crime lords drawls. Stan was so close to getting him to say the last word, but it was clear his fellow poker players were getting suspicious. "Where did you say you were from again?"

You hear Stan laugh nervously over your headphones. "What're you, a cop?" he jokes. No one else laughs.

"We've got to get him out of there!" you say to Dr. Pines.

"I'm working on it," he says, fiddling with something. "I just need a few more minutes..."

"I don't think he has a few more minutes," you say helplessly.

"What we need is a distraction," Dr. Pines says. "Ironic, since I'm working on a distraction to get him out,"

You wrack your brain on how to help Stan... then a wild idea hits you. "I'm on it. Just... please hurry,"

You grab your purse and jump out of the van, not wanting to do this in front of Dr. Pines.

You unbutton your blouse probably one button too low, then take the bottom and tie it up so it fits tightly around your waist. You roll your skirt up a few inches, then take the spare makeup out of your purse and quickly create a smoky eye. Finally, you lean over to fluff out your hair, and with a deep breath, put on a sultry smile and head into the back of the restaurant.

The flickering lights of the hall leading to the poker game don't help with the fear you were trying to push down, but you manage to keep the confident air about you as you push open the door to the game room.

After all, Stan's life depends on it.

"Who are you?" you recognize the voice of the suspicious crime lord as you walk in the room.

"I'm Steve Pinington's girl," you answer, a touch of bitterness in your voice. "But I might not be much longer if he keeps leaving me in the car," You slowly walk over to Stan, very deliberately swinging your hips for the crime lords staring at you. You give them all a little flirtatious smile, and take special pride in Stan's dumbstruck expression, then lean down to his ear. "Your brother will get us out in a few minutes," you barely breathe, then give him a sultry kiss right below his earlobe.

Stan turns to look up at you, and you notice he's redder than usual. He opens his mouth with a croak, then clears his throat and tries again. "Aw c'mon kitten, I toldja it'd only be an hour." He tells you casually.

You pout and slide into his lap, noticing with satisfaction that most of the criminals seem absolutely fascinated by your presence. "What do you boys think?" you ask. "Would you abandon your girl to play a game?"

"That's a real scummy thing, Pinington," one of the men pipes up and smiles at you. "I'd never do that to my girlfriend,"

"See?" you say. "You should listen to your friends,"

Stan gives you a wicked grin. "How do I make it up to you?" he growls, and takes you gently by the chin to bring you closer-

"Pinington," says the suspicious crime lord- you guess he must be the leader. "Is she going to be a problem?"

"Nah," Stan says. "Are ya, toots?"

"Only if I don't have to wait in the car anymore," you giggle.

The leader lets out an annoyed sigh. "Enough," he says, and pulls out a gun. Stan pushes you off of him and out of the way, then puts up his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, Carmichael, what's goin' on?" he asks.

"You've been fishy this whole time, Pinington." he says. "An' I don't like fish."

Stan scoffs. "Good thing you're runnin' this game in the back of a seafood restaurant, then, isn't it?" He slowly stands up, his hands still up.

And then all of the fire sprinklers go off.

Stan doesn't waste the precious few seconds of everyone else being distracted, and before the crime lords can process what is going on or how to stop it, Stan has you by the hand and you are halfway to the door before the first gunshot goes off.

Stan swears but doesn't slow down, and soon the two of you are running down the hallway and out to the van.

Dr. Pines is waiting in the driver's seat with the van's sliding door open, and Stan practically throws you in as he jumps in himself, yelling "Floor it!" as soon as he gets in. You think you hear gunshots as Dr. Pines peals away, but choose not to think about that as you shakily find somewhere to sit and buckle in.

"You OK?" Stan asks when the the van is safely on the freeway.

"Yeah- you?" you ask.

"Yeah- Carmichael is a notoriously bad shot," he says. Then he looks you up and down. "Nice show you put on there," he tells you with mischief in his eyes.

"Yes, you bought me the perfect amount of time to trip the sprinklers!" Dr. Pines calls from the driver's seat. "And Stanley, you'll be happy to know we got the final sounds from Carmichael when he said 'fishy'!"

Stan nods. "Yeah, that's great, Sixer." he says. Then he focuses on you again. "See, I told ya you just needed to loosen up,"

You grin at him. "You should be honored- I don't do this for just anybody," you tell him.

Stan's smile grows. "Just guys who are about to be killed?"

"Hey, it's a nice last thing to see before you go," you tease, and Stan laughs.

And you realize you don't seem to be tongue tied anymore.

Guess Stan was right. All you needed was a little excitement.

Chapter Text

You look around the bar in annoyance. It's full of people from all over the multiverse, people of every shape, color, species...

and every single one of them is a slob.

You stick out like a sore thumb, still in your black skirt suit and heels, not a hair out of place. But it doesn't matter. You aren't here to blend in, you're here to find him.

"Excuse me!" You call for the bartender, someone who was probably from dimension 195^0, judging by his four arms. He ignores you, even after you shout to get his attention. Finally you pull out your credit device with a sigh and hold it up, and within moments he comes up to you with a smile.

"And what can I help you with today?" he asks, two hands folded on the bar and the other two cleaning a glass with a glowing rag that looks like it's emitting some sort of UV light.

"I'm looking for Piranha Pines," you say. "They said I could find him here."

The bartender blinks at you with a patient expression, but remains silent. You try to hold in an impatient sigh as you say "and get me... whatever your favorite is."

"Of course," he says, plucking your credit device out of your hand and bustling over to the register. You find yourself tapping your foot and do everything you can in order to avoid looking at your chronometer- you still need the information, and don't want to risk alienating the one who can get it for you.

He comes back a few minutes later with your device and a drink, an unappetizing-looking brown liquid with little glowing blue spots in it. "Thanks," you say, but don't pick it up. "So... Piranha Pines?"

The bartender scans the room for a bit, then his face brightens. "The guy alone over in the corner," he points with one of his hands. "I'd watch out though- he can get real weird when he's not sober."

You give the bartender a frosty smile. "I can handle it." You nod to him, then indicate the drink. "Treat yourself," you tell him, then stride towards the corner.

To your dismay, the famed Piranha Pines, Feared Hunter of Fords, is passed out in the corner booth, face down on his folded arms on the table, surrounded by what looks like empty bottles of cosmic sand. You look around, then pick up a cocktail menu and poke him sharply a couple times on the arm.

"Wha-" he choked and lifted his head to see what was bothering him.

He seems to be human, but his long, brown, matted beard tangled with his his equally unkempt brown hair makes it difficult to see his face. One eye is covered with a black eye patch, sporting a golden angular version of a fish with an open mouth and a triangle. The other eye looks at you blearily. A mouth appears in the beard, "Jus' keep the drinks comin, honey, y'know I'm good for it," He begins to put his head down again, but you quickly slap the cocktail menu under his chin to prevent it.

"I'm here to hire you," you say, not even bothering to hide your disgust. "Although I'm starting to have second thoughts."

His eyebrows raise, then he lazily slides into an upright position. "People don' hire me, toots," he slurs. "I work for one guy, doin' one thing." He looks you up and down, and a drunken smile crosses his face. "But if you're interested in being hired..."

"Ugh," you say, making a face in revulsion, and he laughs. But you press on. "You hunt Fords. We need a Ford to be hunted. This one has already evaded three of our bounty hunters, and if we don't catch him soon-"

Piranha waves a hand. "I already toldja," he says, sounding slightly annoyed. "I only work for one guy, and no one else-"

"Yes. We know. Bill Cipher wants all Fords dead. We want this particular Ford dead. We have a mutual goal- it shouldn't be a problem."

Piranha looks at you, still with the bleary gaze. "Y'keep sayin' "we", but I only... only see one of ya..."

"'We' meaning The Company," you say primly. "We hired Ford to help us develop several technologies for us, but he has stolen some highly sensitive prototypes and we know he plans to use them for his own gain."

Piranha snorts. "Sounds like 'im. But so what? You guys only make one zillion instead of two zillion?" He chuckles to himself as he picks up an empty bottle of cosmic sands and tries to down it.

"The technology he stole has the potential to destroy entire dimensions," you say.

There's a loud clunk as Piranha throws down the empty bottle, clearly disappointed. "That sounds like a you problem," he says. "Now either get me another bottle or leave me alone so I can-"

And then his expression changes.

"Hey, wait," he says, his smile suddenly too wide, his drunken gaze suddenly sharp. "Did you say destroy entire dimensions?"

You are unsettled by the change but keep your ground. "Yes." you answer steadily.

The smile somehow grows bigger, and you swear his visible eye seems as if it's glowing yellow. "That's kinda interesting. Hey Fish, you can go ahead and take the job. We'll talk about it later."

"I'm sorry?" you say, but before he can answer, you watch Piranha suddenly go boneless, hitting his head on the table.

Then he whips his head up and shakes it. "Looks like the boss wants me to work with you," he says. "There gonna be any money in it?"

"Uh, yes, we are prepared to pay you the bounty we have been offering," you say, trying to keep cool even though you are thoroughly freaked out.

"Great," he answers, still slurring slightly. "Now whyn't you get those guys to come help me outta here."

"What guys?" you ask casually.

"Those guys you had waiting in the wings to save you if something didn't go right," he says. Then he looks up at you, a smirk somehow showing through his beard. "I might be drunk, but I ain't stupid,"

You swallow, then nod to the four security guards you had indeed brought with you, and they helped Piranha stumble out of the booth, leading him to the transport. You follow them, even more on edge than you were when you first came to the bar.

This might be more dangerous than you thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day you've put your fear away, deciding there must have been some sort of illicit substance in the air of the bar, causing you to be more frightened than usual. But you've acquired the Piranha, he said he'd work with you, and the two of you were leaving to find your Ford and the stolen technology as soon as Piranha sobered up. Everything was going to be fine.

You are feeling pretty proud of yourself for calming down as you put the last item in your travel bag, but all the calm goes out the window when you hear footsteps behind you, and you quickly whirl around, ready for the attack.

But what you see makes your jaw drop.

Piranha Pines stands there in a black leather jacket, white shirt, and dark pants and boots. His posture is different than from last night; instead of being hunched over, he's standing up straight, muscles you didn't notice last night straining his shirt. His beard is completely gone and his hair is cut to a perfectly roguish shoulder length. But what really is killing you is his gaze. It's no longer half focused and bitter, but now full of confidence and mischief, making your heart beat slightly faster.

"So they say you're comin' with me," he drawls, leaning against the doorframe and once more looking you up and down. "Can't say I mind, even though I usually work alone."

You smirk at him, hoping he doesn't notice the effect he's having on you. "You think we'd trust you to go alone? Someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't end up passed out on cosmic sand again."

He chuckles softly to himself. "Nah, that's only between jobs." He frowns slightly. "I get... thoughts... or memories, or... whatever... that don't make sense, an' I gotta push 'em out somehow," he says, shrugging. Then he flashes you a toothy grin. "Don't need that when I'm on a hunt."

"Good," you say, trying hard to focus on the task and not just stare at the man in front of you. You instead grab your bag. "Shall we?"

"Happy to follow you, sweetness," he says, and cracks his knuckles. "Let's go."

This absolutely was going to be more dangerous than you thought, and in more ways than one.

Chapter Text

You cannot believe this isn't a dream.

You are standing in one of the guest rooms of a mysterious castle out in the country, inspecting yourself in the mirror. You are wearing a gorgeous white ball gown, beautiful in its own right, but made extra special by the loose fabric attached to the sparkling white loops around your arms and sewn to the sides of your bodice, so when you spread your arms out it looks as if you have wings. The effect is magnified by the beautiful pattern of feathers on the back of the fabric, a slightly eccentric touch that is just perfect for this masquerade ball.

The social season ended in August, and you were once again left with no prospects of a match. You swore off all balls, dinners, hunts, and any other thing that would require you to participate in any type of revelry.

But then you received The Invitation.

It was sent to you shortly after the season ended, inviting you to spend three days and two nights in October at a castle out in the country you had never heard of- a castle called Gravity Falls. The Invitation promised exploration of the forest, lively discussions on literature, fanciful dinners, and a masquerade ball to kick it all off. Most intriguingly, the activities promised were all to happen at night. The hosts were merely named as the Brothers Pines, and requested that you RSVP.

You immediately sent your regards, telling them you would be honored to participate. And within a few days, a response was sent back, thanking you for your prompt reply and sending you a list of items you would need for the activities.

Every item on the list made you smile with excitement, and you spent the last month and a half putting it all together. But the item that had you most thrilled was the assignment of your costume for the masquerade. You were to dress as a white dove, and would be partnered with a man dressed as a black raven, who would then be your partner for the duration of the event.

You know very well that there was a great possibility that you would be partnered with someone dull or crude, but your experiences during the various social seasons have equipped you quite well on how to deal with undesirable people. You have several strategies already on how to prevent your potentially horrible partner from ruining your time at Gravity Falls Castle, and do not dwell on the worry another moment.

But as you put the white dove mask over your face, leaving only your smile uncovered, you allow yourself to daydream a little. On the other hand... what if he's wonderful?

~*~*~*~*~*~

You stand in line at the top of the grand staircases with a group of other women, all decked out in beautiful costumes. They are all as excited as you are, and you think at the very least you will have left the event having made some great friends.

The Master of Ceremonies- a slim man with pince nez glasses perched on the end of his long nose and an accent that clearly indicates he is from the country- introduces the guests to both their partners and the group by calling out their costumes, at which point the woman would come from the left and her partner would come from the right, meeting together in the middle and descending into the ballroom together. You see "Cat and Dog", "Angel and Demon", "Moon and Sun"... so many you lose track.

"Dove and Raven," the Master of Ceremonies calls. Your stomach jumps, and you nod as you go to meet your partner.

A tall, broad man bedecked in an all black suit and cloak covered in black feathers bows to you and gives you a wink through his raven mask. You curtsey back to him, and he leads you onto the dance floor.

"Do you know the waltz?" he asks you quietly.

"I do," you say slowly, uncertain of the question- the waltz is one of the most basic dances that everyone in society should know...

"Good," he nods. "I suppose that means we will not have to wing it!" he pauses. "Get it? Because we're birds?"

He looks at you expectantly, and laughter bubbles up from your belly to your throat, and you have to cover your mouth to prevent yourself from bursting out in front of all the guests.

He gives you a satisfied nod and a grin. "We're going to have a great time tonight," he says.

As requested, the two of you do not introduce yourselves, but that doesn't stop you and the man from chatting about other things and, of course, laughing most of the night. He has the most witty yet awful jokes, is quite skilled at dancing, and the two of you try to one-up each other with crazy theories on who the hosts are and whether or not they have an ulterior motive.

Your partner is so different from the other men you have been meeting throughout the social seasons. Yes, he did have a slight self-satisfied air about him, but he was interesting about it. Whereas others would drone on about their land or contacts or family trees, this man tells stories about things he has done or seen- admittedly, some are so crazy you wonder if they are true- but he does it in such a joyful way you can't help but want to hear more. And despite his fine costume and dancing skills, there's something about him, something just below the surface, that is slightly... wild.

The night passes in a blur, and before you know it, dawn is approaching, and the time has come to remove your masks and introduce yourselves. The Master of Ceremonies leads you all in a countdown for the gentlemen first, and the whole room is filled with cheers and laughter as the ladies see who their partner is.

The man behind the black feathers is not someone you recognize, but gracious he is handsome. He's older than you expected, but he wears it well; and it somehow only adds to his roguish charm.

You feel your heart start to beat a little faster.

Then it is the ladies' turn to remove their masks. The Master of Ceremonies once more counts you down, and you remove your mask.

Your partner goes through a quick parade of expressions- surprise, then something that can only be described as... hunger, then a true, happy smile.

You grin back at him, and give him a curtsey, finally telling him your name. He gives you a sweeping bow back, and introduces himself as Stanley Pines.

You laugh. "Be serious!" You say. "You are not one of the Brothers Pines! All night we were trying to figure out what our hosts were about and speculating what kind of men they were and..." you trail off as you see his face. "Oh no," you say, mortified as you put your face in your hands. "It really is you,"

And Stanley laughs at you, a roaring sound that you would have found quiet pleasant if it weren't at your expense. "My dear, don't worry. I was encouraging it." He reaches out a gloved hand to lift your chin so you are looking right into his eyes. "And I enjoyed myself immensely."

You find you don't want to move, and are just content to look into his brown eyes. You move closer to him, and... he leans down and... you close your eyes and-

"There you are!" a voice causes you to step back, and you find yourself looking at a near-exact copy of Stanley, with the slight difference that this man's sideburns are much more prominent, and he has a cleft in his chin. He is dressed all in gold, and holding a sun mask- someone you had seen many times throughout the night.

Stanley sighs. "May I introduce my twin brother, Stanford."

You curtsey and give him a smile. "How do you do?" you ask. "This is a lovely party!"

Stanford grins. "Thank you! Stanley and I are very excited to," he pauses and suddenly looks a little ill, "put ourselves out into society," He seems to recover and takes his brother by the arm. "Stanley, Fiddleford says it's time to close out the ball by introducing ourselves as hosts."

"Of course, Sixer," Stanley sighs. Then he turns and nods to you. "I'll see you tomorrow evening," he says, and gives you a wink and another sweeping bow.

You respond with a curtsey and a wink of your own, causing him to laugh before he turns and walks away.

~*~*~*~*~

You have changed into your nightgown and are brushing your hair to finally go to bed, when there is a knock at the door. "One moment please!" you say, and quickly put on your robe and open the door.

Stanley stands there in the corridor, still in his black suit and wearing a slightly goofy grin.

"Stanley! What are you doing here?" you ask, pleasantly surprised.

"Just wanted to make sure you got back to your room safely," he says. "Apologies for shirking my duty as an escort,"

You give him a warm smile. "All is forgiven," you say.

"Good," he nods. You once more find yourself looking into each other's eyes, and suddenly-

He is kissing you.

You instantly melt, stepping forward so you can wrap your arms around him. He puts his hands on your waist, bringing you in as he deepens the kiss. You sense he is holding back, that there is something more passionate and powerful just out of reach, and you suddenly are desperate to get to it-

But he abruptly pulls away, a slight fear in his eyes. "Apologies, I can't-" He clears his throat. "Have a good sleep," he says, and slips down the corridor.

You stand in your doorway, trying to get your breath back and unable to stop smiling.

You still can't believe this isn't all a dream.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The campfire is just embers now, and even though Ford and Stan are still animatedly discussing a recent adventure to you, Dipper and Mabel have nodded off, leaning against each other.

Dipper suddenly snorts himself awake. "Then what happened?" he mumbles, not opening his eyes, then he starts to snore softly again.

Stan and Ford exchange glances, and Ford smiles fondly at the teens. "I supposed this story can wait another day," he says, and twists his torso a little before standing up and stretching.

You and Stan start to get up too, but Ford holds out his hands and shakes his head with a smile. "I can take care of the kids if you take care of the fire," he says.

"Thanks, Sixer," Stan rumbles, and the two of you settle back in again. You loop your arms around Stan's arm, snuggling into his side and putting your head on his shoulder, as Ford gently wakes up Dipper and Mabel and ushers the yawning duo back inside of the Mystery Shack.

You sit in silence, content to listen to the sounds of the forest and Stan's breathing, knowing you are loved and safe, and that when you're ready, there's a nice soft bed waiting for you and Stan-

"D'ya ever get so angry at how good everything is?" Stan suddenly says.

You sit up straight, blinking. "Uh... no." you say. "Why? Do you?"

Stan looks at you miserably for a few moments. "Yeah," he says finally.

"Oh," you say, and squeeze his arm a little tighter. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's just..." he pauses. "Never mind. It's dumb."

"Nothing you say is dumb to me," you tell him gently.

"Heh," he looks down at you. "Even... 'you wear too much make-'"

"Stanley Pines, if you finish that sentence I will take you into the woods and tie you to a tree and leave you for the wolves and bears to eat," you say sternly. Then you can't help but laugh a little. "OK, I guess there are a few dumb things you can say."

"There you go," Stan says smugly. You settle your head back on his shoulder.

"It's just..." he starts, then swallows, then starts again. "I got everything I've ever wanted. I go on adventures with Ford, I got money, I got the kids," he turns his head to give your hair a gentle kiss. "I got you..."

You feel warmth rush through your whole body and snuggle in a little more.

"But..." Stan sighs. "It took me forty years to get here. Forty years!" He pauses, then says, almost in a whisper, "So much lost time. And I can't help thinkin'... if I just stayed home that night instead of going to see Ford's perpetual motion machine..." he pauses again, and when he starts up his voice sounds a little thicker than usual. "I coulda had all this a long time ago."

You wait for him for a little bit, but he seems to be finished, so you shift up and pull away in order to look at him, staring glumly in the fire. "You don't know that," you say gently. "Maybe... Maybe you and Ford still would have separated after graduation. Or you could have gotten in an accident on your boat. Or had a falling out about something else, or..." you trail off, seeing Stan look even more miserable. "Look. I'm just saying... you can't just rewrite the past like that. You're practically trying to predict a future that never happened." You take his hand. "And think about how everything you've been through made you the amazing man you are today! Able to enjoy life and try new things and protect your loved ones..." you smile softly to yourself. "If things went differently, we probably never would have met..."

A chuckle rumbles through Stan. "We can't have that, can we?" he asks.

"Not at all," you say, and he puts his arm around you, pulling you in close.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he says, and helps you up. You grab the bucket of water to put out the fire and Stan stirs the ashes, then he takes you by the hand. "So I guess that means I should... make up for lost time, he says.

You nod seriously. "I would recommend it," you say.

"Thought you might," he answers with a wicked grin, "Guess I'd better get started." And the two of you walk

Chapter Text

Every single second feels like a century as you stand helplessly on the bridge, your hands tied behind your back and mouth gagged as a stranger holds a knife to your throat.

You still don't know why you're here- or even remember how you got here. All you can think about is all of the regrets in your life- places you've never been, experiences you've never had, and even putting off finishing that book- yes, you know they end up together at the end, but how?

But your biggest regret... is never telling Stanley Pines how you felt.

What, you were worried about losing a customer? You probably would save money if Stan stops coming around your gelato shop- you always end up giving him free servings. Worried about losing a friend? Come on, Stan needs you to be on his bowling league- there aren't a lot of other people who could handle him when he gets competitive. And who else would be his dance partner at the Gravity Falls parties? He wouldn't ditch you anytime soon. Worried about looking like a fool? You mentally let out a bitter laugh. You actually are a fool for never sucking it up and telling Stan that...

You love him.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by headlights coming towards where you and the assailant are standing on the bridge. Your stomach lurches as the different thoughts of who it could be- the person who will save you from this guy... or someone even worse.

But then the driver's door opens despite the engine running, and Stan himself steps out.

Tears of relief, fear, and who knows what else begin streaming from your eyes, as the stranger roughly readjusts his grip on you.

"Hey Pines," he says, his words tinged with insanity. "I got your girl."

Despite the gag, you inhale sharply. You weren't Stan's girl. You wanted to be, but-

"Joke's on you, Hennessy," Stan says casually. "She's not my girl. So you can just let her go."

"That's right!" you try to say through the gag, but of course it comes out as an unintelligible mush.

The sound of chilling laughter fills the air, and you can see Stan flex his fists. "Oh please," Hennessy says, the laughter still in his voice. "I found you weeks ago. I've been watching you, waiting to make my move. And do you know what I saw?" He readjusts his grip on the knife. "The way you always seek her out. How you waste so much time talking to her and not doing anything else. And the way you look at her, Pines!" Hennessy shouts. "A blind man could see you'd do anything for her!"

What?

You look at Stan, who looks like he's been slapped. Oh gosh. Hennessy was right.

So why did you never notice if even this creep did?

Probably because you were too wrapped up in yourself and your worry.

If you ever got out of this alive, you were going to have to make some changes.

Hennessy clears his throat and seems to be attempting to sound slightly saner. "So here's the deal. You trade yourself for her. You come with me, I get paid the nice bounty, and I'll let her go. Or," he pauses, and even though you can't see his face, you can practically hear his wicked smile. "I kill her right now."

"Yeesh, already at it with the threats," Stan gripes. "Y'know, there used to be rules to this sort of thing,"

"I've been looking for you for decades, Pines. All your stupid aliases and faking your death and... whatever that twin brother nonsense is... I think we're a little past rules." Hennessy once more gives you a little shake. "Now quit stalling. Your life or hers?"

Stan looks into your eyes, and you try to shake your head, try to tell him not to throw his life away just for you, but he doesn't seem to notice. "All right, fine. Just... promise she'll be OK."

"If you do what you're supposed to, she'll be fine." Hennessy says calmly. He nods to a pair of handcuffs in the middle of the road that you somehow hadn't noticed. "Put those on, then get in the car."

Stan nods, and you start to struggle, yelling helplessly through your gag as you watch him put on the handcuffs and slowly walk towards you-

And quick as a flash, Stan elbows Hennessy in the face, forcing him to let go of the knife and let go of you. You quickly run out of reach, kicking the knife over the bridge, as Stan gives him a barrage of punches- clearly not in handcuffs- until Hennessy is out cold.

Stan races over to you and unties your hands, and as soon as you're free you take out the gag. "Stan! Are you OK?" you ask frantically.

"Never better," he flashes you a grin, then pops his back. "I'm gonna feel that in the morning." He groans. Then he motions to Hennessy. "C'mon. Let's lock this loser in the trunk. See if he can chew 'imself out like he made me do thirty years ago." You lift up the heavy unconscious man with Stan and stager over to the trunk, heaving him in and slamming the door.

And then you start sobbing.

Stan instantly pulls you into his arms and starts stroking your hair. "You're OK," he murmurs, then pulls you back suddenly. "You're OK, aren't you? He didn't hurt you?"

You shake your head, unable to speak.

"Good," Stan says. "Look, we'd better get you taken care of. Come on." And he gently turns you around and leads you to the passenger side of his car, and soon you are driving away.

After a few moments of silence on the road, Stan clears his throat. "Look, I didn't mean for you to... putting you in danger isn't..." he exhales noisily. "I couldn't live without you, and... I'm sorry for putting you in such a crap situation just because I'm a creep who's in love with you." He stared straight ahead at the road. "I'll stop buggin' you around town now,"

"No!" you say. "Don't... Stan, if you stopped hanging out with me I would find out who put that bounty on you and bring you in myself!" you declare. "Because I'm pretty sure..." you pause, wondering if you should say what's on your mind, then, remembering the feeling of regret you had and not wanting to experience it again, press on. "I'm in love with you too."

"Yeah?" Stan asks after a few moments of stunned silence.

"Yeah." you answer simply.

"Well," he says, beaming. "We'd better do something about that."

"I think we should," you say.

Stan chuckles, then says. "He didn't happen to mention how much that bounty was, did he? 'Cause if it's good enough money, we really should figure out how we can collect!"

You don't know if he's serious or joking, but after the last couple of hours you need a laugh, and join in with Stan's.

You don't know what to expect tomorrow, but tonight, you're safe with Stan Pines.

Chapter Text

It had been a long, awful day. And to make it even worse, there wouldn't be any video chat with Stan to look forward to tonight. He had told you a few days ago he and Ford would have to be radio silent for the next week. Although you wanted to be brave and supportive, you were privately very annoyed, especially on days like today. So now, all you want to do is immediately get into your pajamas, heat up some leftovers, and climb into bed.

The sight of your door is a welcome one, and you shuffle up to it, your house key already extended to unlock the door. You insert the key into the lock and turn it-

But it doesn't turn.

It doesn't turn because it is already unlocked.

You sigh to yourself. You know you were in a hurry that morning, but it still was a weird mistake to make. And you start to feel worried as you think of who- or what- could have taken advantage of the open door.

Of course you'd have to worry about something stupid like this after such an exhausting day. Why couldn't you-

You stop dead at the sight of the kitchen.

It is a mess. You count at least three bowls with who-knows-what in them scattered on the counters, spices, onions, eggshells... your brain stops processing everything it's seeing, and instead telegraphs a very important realization.

Someone had been in your house. And worse yet, they could still be here.

You grab a rolling pin from off the counter, and slowly start to creep around. It wasn't long before you start faintly smelling something... something that was familiar, something that makes your heart leap in your throat.

It was the smell of Stan's cigars. Someone had been in here, made a mess in your kitchen, and was using Stan's cigars.

Anger boiled over in you, instantly replacing the fear. It was bad enough Stan wasn't here, bad enough you couldn't even talk to him, but the fact that someone had the audacity to come in and interrupt your night, and use your husband's cigars-

Your white hot rage only increases as you turn the corner into the bedroom, seeing the ashtray on the dresser, the ashes and smoke from the cigar perched on it making you so angry you can't even think straight. Then you hear the bathroom door open, and whirl around, raising the rolling pin high-

To see Stan in his burgundy bathrobe, hair wet, sailor's beard gone, and wearing an incredibly devastating smirk. "Heya, toots," he says. "How's it goin'?"

You drop the rolling pin and with it all of the fear, anger, and exhaustion, and run into his arms. He laughs as he picks you up and spins you around, then lets you down and gives you a hard, passionate kiss.

"What are you doing here?" you ask joyfully when you come up for air. "I thought you were still in Alaska!"

"I wanted to surprise ya," Stan says. "That's why I told you we had to go radio silent; you woulda figured it out- or Ford would've blown it."

You laugh, then shake your head. "I was ready to pound you to a pulp!" you tell him. "I thought someone had broken in!"

"Good," Stan says. "Glad to see you ain't totally helpless while I'm gone,"

"You are apparently," you say. "What's with that mess down there?"

Stan shrugs. "Thought I'd make dinner. I just put the lasagna in the oven, so we got a while yet."

"Wow," you sigh happily. "Stanley Pines, you're amazing."

"Yeah, I know," he says with a chuckle.

"Wait," you say, as an unpleasant thought crosses your mind. You step out of Stan's embrace and back up towards the rolling pin. "How do know you're not... that you're..."

"Y'mean that I'm really me, and not a shapeshifter or possessed or fairy illusion?" Stan fills in.

You nod your head slowly, and shift your stance to something casual that will still allow you to run if you have to.

Stan grins, and walks over to you, taking you by the waist and leaning over to whisper something in your ear, then leans back to watch you expectantly.

His words make you blush, but absolutely proves the man standing in front of you with the goofy grin and wicked glint in his eye is your husband.

Stan shakes his head and clucks his tongue. "Oh Mrs. Pines, you've been separated from me for way too long if you're having that kind of reaction."

"Shut up, you love it," you tease him.

Stan nods with his wolf smile. "You got that right," he agrees.

"You said dinner will take a while?" you ask.

"Yep, we got plenty of time," his eyes gleam with the answer.

"Then let's not waste another second," you say, then shriek with surprise and laugh as Stan scoops you up into his arms.

Chapter Text

The full moon is both a blessing and a curse tonight. It gives you enough light to easily see the lock you are picking, but then again, it means other people can easily see you.

But you make quick work of the lock, and the door gently clicks open. You slip inside the mysterious mansion, closing the door behind you.

The main hall is lined with enormous windows, the moonlight streaming through them making it easy for your eyes to adjust. You slowly and methodically creep through the hall, making note of places to hide and ways to escape-

"Couldn't stay away from me, couldja?" a familiar teasing voice asks, and the three chandeliers in the great hall suddenly blaze with light, hurting your eyes for a split second so you have to close them.

And when you open them again, he is standing right in front of you, in silk pajamas and a long, cozy bathrobe, giving you that familiar cocky yet excited grin.

To your credit, you don't jump from being startled, but just cross your arms and put on a smirk yourself. "May I remind you that you asked me to come here, Stan Pines," you tell him.

He shakes his head, still grinning. "I'm Hal Forrester out here," he says.

"Hal Forrester?" You repeat in disdain. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from names that were so close to your own?"

"Oh come on, it's not even the same initials," Stan protests.

"And yet you couldn't help it with the tree puns," you point out smugly.

Stan shrugs. "Heh. I gotta make it fun somehow. Speaking of not doing what you're supposed to," he raises his eyebrows, "I toldja to come tomorrow."

"Please, Stan," you say haughtily. "I know better than to agree to a meeting without scoping out the place first."

He laughs. "I don't know what I expected! But... I really am glad t' see ya," he gives you a warm smile- rare, since he's usually either smirking or overly cheerful- and you can't help but return it in kind.

Then you clear your throat. "We probably would have met sooner if you didn't leave London so soon after your recovery," you try not to sound sour, but don't know how successful you are. "And now you're in..." you swallow in distaste, "Idaho,"

"Hey, this is the easiest place to run pyramid schemes," he says. "The folks here are real trusting. An' y'know, it could be worse- I could be a couple hundred miles west and be in-" he makes a face, "Oregon."

"I suppose," you say unenthusiastically. "I've never been." Then you start looking around the hall, taking it all in with the better lighting, "You seem to be doing well for yourself. This is a very nice place."

Stan snorts. "Yeah. It ain't mine though. I'm just borrowin' it while the owner's outta town. Usin' it as an prop for people to buy into my, uh, investments."

You turn back to him. "Is this why you brought me out here?" you ask impatiently. "Because, as you recall, I am a highly trained thief, and pyramid schemes are not my forte nor my interest-"

"No! No," Stan says a little too quickly, holding out his hands. "I, uh... I know I kinda... disappeared on you,"

"I'm sure you had your reasons," you say casually, digging your fingernails into your palms to stay calm. "It didn't bother me,"

"It didn't?" he asks, surprised, then awkwardly laughs. "Ha, of course it didn't! Not like there was anythin' goin' on between us, or anything like that. Nope."

You give him a weak laugh and step towards him. "Ha, of course not. We just had a few chance encounters and I helped you out of the embassy out of the goodness of my heart." You swallow. "It didn't mean anything beyond that."

"Right."

"Right."

And the two of you are suddenly locked in a hard kiss, staggering across the hall until your back hits a wall, but Stan keeps kissing you and you keep kissing him until-

The grandfather clock in the hall chimes fifteen after the hour, breaking the moment. The two of you break apart and stare into each other's eyes.

"I missed you," Stan whispers, breathing heavily.

"Why... why did you leave?" you ask, trying to recover as well.

"I ran into the folks who hired me to get the Black Cat in the first place," he says. "I managed to avoid 'em... right onto the plane back to the states." He swallows. "They... knew I had a partner, an' I couldn't let 'em find you, so I couldn't contact you until now. When I had a completely new name and job. And," he backs up and pulls something out of his robe. "I didn't know how you'd act around me, so I know I had to make it worth your while." He hands the item- a long, folded up parchment- to you. "This is yours. As a thanks. For takin' care of me. And... I'm sorry."

You take the parchment and look at Stan with a question in your eyes, then you turn your attention back to it and carefully open it.

"It's... a map," you say, not knowing what to think.

"A treasure map," Stan says proudly.

You look up at him skeptically. "What kind of treasure?"

He shrugs. "An old one. Don't know much beyond that."

You deflate a little. "Stan, you might as well have handed me a key without a lock. How do you even know this is legitimate?"

He grins at you. "One of the saps... er, one of my clients, gave this to me as collateral. It's been in his family before anyone can remember. And apparently..." Stan's eyes gleam. "His ancestors were pirates."

You feel the familiar flipflop of a new adventure in your stomach, but temper it down. This is too good to be true. "Stan-" you start.

"I know you love old stuff, an' I had it inspected. Even if y' don't wanna go on the treasure hunt, the map'll get some good money at an auction."

You can't stop the glow that forces you to smile. Stan didn't just ditch you for no reason. He remembered you liked old things. He wanted to apologize. And...

he still was a really great kisser.

"Come with me," you say suddenly. "Let's find whatever this leads to- together."

Stan beams, and before you can even say another word, he is kissing you again.

Chapter Text

You lace your fingers through Stan's and lean your head on his shoulder as the two of you watch the sun set. You are sitting on the yellow couch on the porch, and although it is faded, torn, and you accidentally sat on a pile of acorns some squirrel had stowed away, it quickly became your most favorite piece of furniture you have ever encountered.

Of course, the fact that you were sitting there with Stan may have had something to do with it, too.

You love how you can just let your mind go blank when you're around him. Usually your thoughts are rushing around, fighting for top billing or chasing one after the other so you never get a moment's peace... but Stan just makes you so... relaxed. You just know everything's going to be OK when he's around.

Stan shifts a little, moving his hand out of yours so he can put his arm around your shoulder, and lets out a low, content sigh as he brings you into his side.

"Y'know when I first started to like you?" he suddenly says, as the shadows grow darker in the forest.

"Mmm, when?" you hum, getting a little excited for the romance to come. Was it the first time the two of you locked eyes across the dance studio at Gravity Falls? Or maybe one of the many times you ran into each other around town? Or possibly when he saw you in that beautiful dress for the annual fundraising gala-

"It's when you knocked down all those shelves in the grocery store," he says.

You are so shocked that you move out of your embrace to look at him. "What?" you ask. "That was one of the most embarrassing days of my life!"

"Hey, hey, hang on," Stan sits up straight, putting out his hands in a placating gesture. "That was the first time I saw, y'know, the cracks in the mask."

"What mask, Stan?" you keep your voice steady and calm, but really don't want to. "I'm a sincere person! I never pretend to be someone I'm not!"

"That's not what I mean- look," Stan closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, then looks back at you. "It was the first time you ever seemed... I dunno.... human, I guess. You always seemed too perfect- you were a great dancer, you have this perfect schedule, you help out a lotta people, not to mention you're a knockout," he flashes you a grin, "but... you just seemed like some kinda mannequin or somethin'. But the day all the shelves fell over, I saw that you could make mistakes, and that you were a person... an' that maybe a guy like me could have a chance," He chuckles. "Plus, you looked real cute covered in mustard."

"Stan..." you gently put a hand on his arm. "I..." you are so moved you don't know what to say, so settle on, "Thank you."

"Well, just wanna let you know," he says. "That you don't have to always be perfect around me."

You feel tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. "You know you don't have to be perfect around me either, right?" you say earnestly. "I really care about you, and... I just want you to be happy. Just like you make me happy."

Stan smiles softly, but you think there's a tinge of sadness to it. "I'll hold you to it, toots," he says, and kisses your hair before once more pulling you into his side, the two of you settling in to watch the stars appear.

Chapter Text

It's two in the morning and you can't sleep.

The same scenes play over and over again in your head, like a movie you can't shut off. You remember the principal's purple face as he told you that you would be suspended from school the rest of the week. You remember your parents' disappointed looks at you, and how they didn't seem to know whether they should punish you more or if the suspension was punishment enough, especially since just two days ago you were-

No, you told yourself firmly. You were not going to let yourself think about when you walked in on your now-ex-boyfriend kissing Donna Cooper.

Well, so much for not thinking about that.

With a frustrated groan you get up out of bed, put on your shoes and a sweater, and quietly leave the house.

The empty streets of Glass Shard Beach perfectly reflect the sheer... emptiness you feel. The streetlights each have halos around them from the marine layer, which also muffles any sound like it was a blanket. It seems like a completely different world, which suits you just fine.

But then the sound of a can being kicked down the road makes your blood turn to ice.

Wait a minute, what were you even doing out here alone at night? What if you got mugged? Or kidnapped? You frantically look for a place to hide, but all you can see are storefronts and street lights. A tall, somewhat bulky shadow is coming near you, and you wonder if it would even be worth it to run.

And then the shadow calls your name.

You squint, trying to see who it is. "Wait. Um, Pines, right?" you ask. You recognize him as one of the kids from your school. You don't hang out with him much; he's usually with his girlfriend Carla or his twin brother- ugh why can't you remember his name?

"Stan, yeah," he says, stopping right in front of you. He's no longer a shadow, but still taller and bulkier than you, wearing a jacket and what looks like pajama pants. He frowns. "You probably shouldn't be out here by yourself,"

"Well then neither should you," you say tartly. A part of you is a little surprised; you've barely spoken a word all week.

Stan rolls his eyes. "You know it's different, toots."

A flash of anger passes through you. "Don't call me toots, pal," you say.

Stan looks surprised, then laughs. "Heh, if you say so." He motions his head to the side. "So're you goin' home or are you going to join me in a Pitt Cola while I wander around?"

"I'm not going home," you say stubbornly.

"All right," he drawls. "It'll be good to have someone to hang out with."

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" you ask witheringly.

"Nah. Dumped her," he says, and starts walking. You stand there for a minute, then jog a few steps to catch up.

"Why? What happened?" you ask, glad to focus on someone else's problems instead of yours.

"She started seein' this other guy- some hippie freak called Thistle Down," he says the name in such a mocking tone you can't help but giggle- the first time you have in days. He notices and seems to brighten up a little. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Wait, I thought you said you dumped her," you say.

He waves a hand. "I did. She told me she was with Thistle, so before she could break up with me, I dumped her." He grins smugly. "Who's lame now?" he asks the universe.

You laugh a little again. "Oh man, I wish I thought of that. All I could do was sit there like an idiot when I saw my guy cheat with my best friend." Then you grin bitterly. "But I finally got my act together and put gum in her hair today- really nice and deep in the roots."

Stan laughs loudly, seemingly not caring about waking anyone up. "Serves her right."

You give him a small smile. "You're the only one who thinks so. I got suspended until the end of the week."

"What? For that?" Stan sincerely looks shocked. "That's nothin'. I drove Thistle's van into a ravine." he looks proud. "An' no one cared." Then his face fell. "Well, Carla did." he rallied. "But like I said, I dumped her, so who cares?"

"Right!" you say happily. "Where's that Pitt- we need to toast good riddance to our exes!"

"There's a vending machine outside of the Saltwater Taffy Shop," Stan says. "You got some change?"

You laugh and roll your eyes as you realize he never said he already had the Pitt to share, and fish a few coins out of your sweater pocket to get two bottles. You give one to Stan, and he happily clinks it and takes a swig. Then he looks over to you and suddenly seems a little... nervous. "Hey, uh... are you goin' to Homecoming on Friday?"

"Not anymore," you say, making a face. "Suspension, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Stan says. He sounds a little disappointed. "Well, wait- why don't we have our own homecoming, huh? There are a couple of places to dance around here- an' we could get ice cream and-"

"I'm not buying the ice cream," you say with a smile.

Stan scoffs. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. So- whaddya say?"

You hesitate. Your breakup is still fresh, and maybe you shouldn't be dating right now-

But you realize with Stan... you don't feel empty anymore.

So of course you have your answer.

"That sounds great," you tell Stan warmly.

"Great," Stan says, and clinks his bottle against yours again, and the two of you walk out into the night.

Chapter Text

You stand back to admire your work, still holding the frosting-covered rubber spatula.

"That is one great looking birthday cake," your baking partner says behind you. "Toldja we'd have enough frosting,"

"No thanks to you," you say, half serious and half teasing as you look at Stan Pines. "If you stole one more finger of frosting I was going to ban you from the kitchen."

He laughs. "I've been banned from plenty of places, kid. It never stopped me from goin' back if I wanted to." He raises an eyebrow at you. "Especially when somethin' sweet is involved."

You turn back to the cake to hide your blush. You know he means the cake... but does he?

The two of you are part of a group to put together a surprise party for Soos'- your boss- birthday while his wife, Melody, kept him away from the house until the party was ready that night. The other members of the party planning committee included Soos' abuelita, your sometime-coworker Wendy, and the Pines family- Stan, his twin brother, and their twin great niece and nephew.

You've had so much fun conspiring with everyone, especially when they told you the mission was to make the best surprise party ever because Soos only recently started celebrating his birthday. And your final assignment, to bake a birthday cake to end all birthday cakes, was your favorite part- especially since you got to spend the entire evening with Stan.

He was full of jokes and stories, and surprisingly handy in the kitchen. He was also a terrible flirt, often winking, waggling his eyebrows at a double entendre, and bantering with you like you were in an old screwball comedy. You hadn't spent this much time with him before, but boy, were you having a blast.

Just as you are about to respond to his "something sweet" comment, your phone buzzes from a text message from Stan's great niece Mabel.

You read it then turn to Stan with a grin. "Mabel says they're here and it's time for the cake. Ready?"

He gives you a mischievous smile. "I was born ready," he says, and hands you the box of birthday candles as you laugh in response.

You count out the number of candles for Soos' age and hand half to Stan, and the two of you make quick work huddled around the cake and making sure every candle is settled. You just put in the last candle when a thought hits you.

You don't know where the matches are.

You frantically turn around and intend to start opening all the drawers in the kitchen, but meet Stan's gaze instead. "Need a light?" he asks in a low voice, casually holding out a lighter for you to take.

Something about his look, his voice, his stance- suddenly makes you weak in the knees. You take the lighter out of the palm of his hand, your fingertips brushing the callouses he developed while sailing with his brother, and barely are able to tear your eyes away from his smirk. You clear your throat hoping to clear your head, and quickly start lighting the candles. Stan turns off the kitchen light and the glow makes everything look nothing short of magical.

You once more admire the cake, then turn back to Stan to return his lighter. "Thanks," you say, noticing the little scars below his lip and wondering how they would feel brushing against your skin...

"Anytime," Stan says as he takes the lighter with one hand, then uses his finger and thumb of the other to firmly take you by the chin and bring you into a deep, slow kiss.

The two of you continue in the push and pull of the kiss, when the buzz of your phone alerts you to the fact that Soos just walked in and the cake was needed now.

"We'd better bring this in," you say regretfully, picking up the cake.

"No problem," Stan says, eyes bright and reflecting the candlelight. "What's say me an' you pick this up later?"

"OK," you say with a smile, and quickly lean up to give him one more gentle, deep kiss before the two of you head out.

You know it's supposed to be Soos' day, but you definitely just had a wish come true.

Chapter Text

"There they are!" you say softly to Stan, feeling sick to your stomach. You point to the other side of the bubbling cauldron to see Soos, Wendy, Mabel, and Dipper chained against the wall, all seemingly unconscious.

The blood drains out of Stan's face and he swears softly at the sight of his imprisoned loved ones. "OK," he says. "Here's the plan. I'm gonna go see if I can get 'em out, and you tip the cauldron over to ruin the resurrection spell,"

"That's the plan?" you hiss. "Ford or the witch's spirit could show up at any time!"

"You got any better ideas?" Stan whispers crossly.

"No," you admit quietly. "Sorry. I'm just..."

"I know," Stan says, and tries to give you a brave smile. "An' it'll be fine- you know how good I am at lockpicking."

You laugh softly. "You're right. But..." you put your hand out to take his and catch his gaze. "Please be careful."

Stan nods, looking you right in the eye. "I will."

You stare at each other for a few moments, and then the both of you are locked in a passionate kiss.

All your fear, hope, and bravery are poured into the kiss, into this man you have grown to admire, trust, and, yes, desire. The kiss grows in intensity, and even though you know in the back of your head there's something you need to do, all you can focus on is more of the kiss, more of Stan. He pushes you against the wall, his hands running up your torso to your arms, pinning your wrists above your head-

and you feel rock forming around your wrists, immobilizing you against the wall.

You open your eyes in shock, as Stan steps back from the kiss with a little smirk on his face, still breathing heavily, and you see Ford walk up behind him. "Good work, Stanley," Ford says matter-of-factly, then hands Stan a small glass vial with a cork. "Will you do the honors?"

"Sure," Stan says casually, taking the vial and giving you wicked grin.

"What... what are you doing?" you ask frantically.

Stan shrugs. "The witch promised to give me and Ford whatever we wanted if we brought her back to life," Stan says. "Ford's been workin' on the potion all day, an' I've been workin' behind the scenes to get all the ingredients," He unpops the cork, which has a little stick on the end, like a bubble wand. "An' the last ingredient is Betrayal's Taste."

You know it's pointless, but you start struggling against the rock bounds anyway. "That's stupid!" You sputter angrily. "You already have everything you want!"

Stan and Ford look at each other and start laughing. "Please." Ford says, a gleam in his eye. "Do you know what I've seen in the multiverse? What I've experienced? There's nothing here that could even come close to the knowledge and riches and power that are out there."

Stan chuckles and claps his brother on the back, then looks at you. "An' I tried the whole 'settle down and enjoy life' thing," Stan says. "But it's just not enough." He takes the few steps towards you, a manic gleam in his eye. "Open wide, sweetheart,"

Despite your struggling, he roughly forces your mouth open with one hand on your jaw, and uses the other hand to scrape your tongue with the wand. He lets go, and you spit on him, angry, hot tears flowing down your face. "You had everything." you say desperately. "Family. Adventure, Friends, Lo-" you choke on the last word. "And you throw it all away! And for what?"

Stan turns around and hands the vial to Ford, who walks towards the cauldron. Then, before following him, Stan turns to look at you with a grin. "Everything." he says, then follows his brother.

You watch in horror as Ford begins to chant, upending the vial into the cauldron. It begins to bubble and give off a brighter green light, and a wind picks up, causing Ford to chant louder and louder until there is a flash and a sonic boom, causing the whole cavern to shake.

When your eyes clear from the spots, a beautiful woman draped in shimmering black fabric is floating where the cauldron was, and you recognize the embodiment of the spirit that has been torturing the town for the past month. She wears a soft smile, but you can see the insanity in her eyes as she floats down to the ground, and puts an elegant hand on Ford, then Stan's cheek. "Thank you for restoring me, my servants," she says. "Now. Before I return this place to its glory under my rule, what is it that you desire?"

Stan is looking at her slack jawed with awe, and you feel a surge of anger and disgust that you could ever had thought he was someone worth falling in love with...

"Thank you, my lady," Ford answers, and she turns to him. "We have a very simple request," he pauses.

"For you to get lost forever!" Stan comes out of his fake stupor, and plunges a silver knife into the witch, as Ford begins chanting a spell.

Light streams from where Stan has stabbed the witch, and she screams as the cavern begins to shake, and you notice you are suddenly free. You can see your imprisoned friends collapse as their bonds disappear, and you race towards them.

Cracks begin to appear on the witch's skin, the same light showing through them, and Ford finishes the chant with a "Now, Stanley!", and Stan takes out the knife, running over to you and the rest of the captives, putting his arms around as many people as he can-

and the witch explodes into light.

The cavern is still shaking, and Ford runs over to help you and Stan with your slowly waking up friends. "Apologies for the ruse!" Ford has to yell to be heard over the sound of the collapsing cavern, and he grunts as he picks up Dipper under one arm. "But we needed to bring the witch back to life in order to destroy her for good!"

"Explanations later, Poindexter, we gotta get outta here!" Stan shouts over the din, and is able to rouse Soos and Wendy enough to get them to stand up. He grabs Mabel under his arm, and puts one of Soos' arms over his shoulder to help keep him upright, while Ford takes the other side. Stan looks at you. "You got Wendy?"

You nod, having already put her arm over your shoulder and keeping her steady.

"Then let's go!" he shouts, and the seven of you hurry as fast as you can to get out of the collapsing cave.

You leap out into the sunshine, then crumple on the soft grass, watching the dust from the form cavern dissipate into the air as you all try to get your breath back. Finally, Wendy sits up slowly, rubbing her head. "That was the stupidest adventure I think I've ever had," she says.

The rest of you slowly sit up, helping each other stand. "Apologies again," Ford says, looking truly contrite. "But it was imperative only Stanley and I knew what was truly going on,"

"Any way we can help the Pines family is fine with me," Soos declares solemnly, then winces and puts a hand to his head. "I just wish it involved less headaches."

"You know what helps with headaches..." Dipper starts, looking at his sister.

"Celebratory We-Just-Defeated-The-Witch-Of-Gravity-Falls Ice Cream!" Mabel answered happily.

Stan grins. "An' I'm sure the town will be happy to give it to us on the house for our heroics," he says thoughtfully.

There are various cheers of agreement, and everyone starts to head to town.

But Stan takes your hand to hold you back. "Hey, um... look. I... I just wanted you to know you were right," he says. "I... I do have everything I want. Family, friends, adventure..." he looks into your eyes. "You. I mean. I hope." Then he looks away. "But, uh, if you aren't into that after what happened, it's... it's fine."

You purse your lips. "You did what you had to do, Stan," you say, and you watch his shoulders drop. "But... I understand. And it's nice to know I wasn't wrong about you." You move your hand so your fingers intertwine, and he turns to look at you with a hopeful expression on his face. "Plus..." you grin at him. "You're a really good kisser,"

Stan brightens up, then gets a wicked look on his face. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," he says, and pulls you into a sweet, sincere kiss, full of relief, happiness, and trust.

And the taste of betrayal is nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

You are the first to sit down at the final poker table for the tournament, keeping your carefully neutral expression despite the excitement you're feeling.

This was it. You were going to w-

The second player sits down across from you, and your poker face turns into a glare.

"I thought you would have washed out by now, Stan Pines," you say coolly. Nothing like a little psychological warfare and insults to get your opponents off their game.

"Nah," he says calmly, but there's steel in his voice. "I'm pretty surprised to see you here though. But I guess most guys would be distracted by you in that dress."

"Are you implying," you seethe, "that I wouldn't be able to win by skill alone?"

He leans back with a 'gotcha' grin. "I didn't say it. You did."

You barely notice the other two players take their seats. "You really are as dumb as you look, Pines."

He snorts, but doesn't engage further since the dealer starts distributing cards.

It didn't have to be this way, you think as you watch the cards fly around the table. You and Stan met last night in the casino and had such a great time together dancing, eating, and playing the games. He was handsome and cheesy and incredibly charming, and you remember the feeling of excitement for finding a guy like that, and were planning a kiss at the end of the night...

But then it had all unraveled when it came out that you both were going to play in the poker tournament the next day, and win the secret grand prize that had all of Las Vegas buzzing.

You started telling each other in a friendly manner to enter a different tournament, but then the exchanges got less and less friendly. At the end of the night, you were bitter rivals, and that anger hadn't faded now, a whole day later.

But no. Now wasn't the time for regrets, but the time to win. No one knew what was in the locked box surrounded by sequins and security guards, but it could be anything. Cash. Diamonds. Vacation packages. And you had beaten four tables just to get here; you would not let some stupid guy get between you from your hard-earned prize, no matter how angry you were at him.

You look at Stan looking at his cards, trying to clock any reaction. But then you are distracted by the stubble on his chin. How did he make it look that perfect? It somehow walked the fine line between looking like a drunk who just hadn't shaved for a day or so, and looking like a lumberjack who had a full on beard. You remember the delicious scratchy feeling of his cheek against yours as you slow danced last night...

You snap yourself out of the memory and look at your cards. Not bad. You definitely could do something with them. You put in your bet and wait.

Everyone around the table calls. And you notice that when Stan calls, he adds a little extra sarcasm to it. And so it goes, you and Stan trading glares every time either of you make a bet-

Until it's time to present your cards. Yours aren't bad, but they aren't good either, but there was no way you were going to fold in front of Stan-

And you calmly grin in triumph as you see you had better cards than he did...

Only for the triumph to be short lived as one of the other players sets down a Royal Flush.

You should have seen that coming. You belatedly played back the game in your head, and should have picked up on that player's mannerisms, and yet, here you are, the loser who wasn't going to win (or even see) whatever was in that locked box.

Without looking at any of the players, you get up and sneak out.

Then you hear your name being called, and turn around to see Stan, no longer wearing a glare but that grin you had started to fall for last night, jogging up to you.

"Hey. Wanna get a drink?"

Your jaw drops. "Seriously? You have some nerve," you say.

"Oh come on." Stan says. "So we had a fight. And we were idiots about it. I didn't win because of you, you didn't win because of me... let's put it behind us and see where this goes." He chuckles. "I mean, we've already had our first fight and here we are, still talking to each other. That's more than a lot of couples can say."

You roll your eyes. "We are not a couple, Pines."

He shrugs. "We could be," he says, and there's something in the tone of his voice that makes you remember the wonderful time you had with him last night.

"All right..." you say. "But you're buying."

"What?" he says. "No way."

You shrug and turn to walk away.

"All right, yeesh," he says, and you turn back to him. "You called my bluff." He looks right at you with a waiting grin.

"Pun intended?" you ask wryly.

"Pun intended," he answers, and the two of you walk through the casino together.

Chapter Text

You walk out of the bathroom at the Triple Digit Truck stop in your red dress, stuffing your waitress uniform into your bag, and are greeted by a wolf whistle.

A quick scan of the practically empty restaurant leads you to the sight of your friend and frequent customer, Stan Pines, sitting at the counter and wearing a teasing look on his face as he exaggeratedly looks you up and down. You grin in response and twirl around. "What do you think?" you ask.

"I think the new waitress uniforms are the best thing I've ever seen," he says. "You're definitely gonna get a lotta tips tonight."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's not a waitress uniform- I'm off tonight."

Stan frowns. "Aw, and here I came all the way down here just to see you." Then he smiles again. "But I gotta admit, the sight was worth it."

You laugh. "Save it for the tourists, stud," you tell him happily.

He chuckles in response, and asksm "So what's the occasion for such a smokin' dress?"

"I have a date," you try to smile, but you feel like it's not coming across as sincere as you'd like.

You think something changes in Stan's face, but it's so quick you must have imagined it. "Oh yeah?" he asks. "And who's the sap who you got to pay for your dinner?"

"Tim Burr," you say, not looking at Stan.

"Oh, come on," Stan says sourly. "The guy who's stood you up twice before?"

"He had a good excuse," you say, a little more defensively than you'd like. "And we've been on a couple of dates since then,"

"Oh yeah?" Stan asks. "An' how were they?"

"They were fine!" you say. "I got to meet his friends-"

"His friends?" Stan asks. "Yeah, real romantic, t' go on a date with the guy's friends."

"He had a busy week!" you say, a little hotly. "And we've had time with just us before."

Stan scoffs. "Bet it was real romantic."

"We got to talk for a long time," you say, hoping Stan wouldn't notice you not elaborating further.

But Stan wasn't going to be thrown off. "Doin' what?" he challenges.

You know what the answer sounds like, but raise your chin to show it doesn't bother you... even though it kind of does. "Driving him to the airport."

"Driving him to-" Stan cuts himself off with laughter. "That's over an hour one way, kid!" He shakes his head. "An' what're you doing for him tonight?"

You mutter something in response.

"What was that?" Stan asks, and you swear you have never seen such a mean grin on a person in your life.

"I'm throwing him a birthday party," you say, and feel a flood of anger at Stan's mocking laughter. "What is your problem?" you snap.

Stan stops laughing, and shakes his head. "Hey, nothin' against you. I just think he's a loser, that's all,"

"What do you know?" you ask, your words still tinged with anger. "I don't see you asking anyone out."

"Maybe because the girl I'd ask out is busy wastin' time with an idiot." Stan instantly responds.

You wait for him to finish with something such as "like you are" but it doesn't come. And Stan doesn't stop looking in your eyes, as if driving home a point.

As if waiting for you to understand...

You feel like the floor has dropped from underneath you as the implications fall into place.

"Do you..." you pause, still recovering from the shift in your worldview. "Are you saying..."

"Yeah, I'm saying you could do better... way better than Tim Burr," Stan says. Then he looks away. "An' you could do worse than me."

"I..." you stop, still unable to wrap your head around it. You absolutely adore Stan- his charisma, his lame jokes, his arrogant confidence that turns off a lot of people but that you find endearing, especially because he never uses it as an excuse to talk down to you. In fact, he always treats you like you mattered. You think of how you would always feel relief when he turned out to be the person who walked in the door of the truck stop, or the way your day would be made when you ran into each other around town. And boy oh boy, his square jaw and big arms were something a girl could daydream about whenever the days were slow... But you never in a million years thought he felt the same way about you. "What are you saying?"

He huffs, and stands up to face you. "Look, I don't know, I just... I love makin' you laugh an' I hate it when you're sad, an' I look forward to talkin' to you all the time. I wanna... take you dancing and watch dumb movies with you, and be one who protects you from the shadows under the bed. And, y'know, in Gravity Falls that's not just somethin' to say," He flashes you a worried smile. "Why d'ya think I keep comin' out here when Greasy's is way closer to my place?" he lets out a laugh that sounds more like an embarrassed cough. "But look. It doesn't... it doesn't have to be me if you don't want it to. But... you deserve so much better than-"

And you cut him off with a kiss. He makes a noise of surprise, then puts his arms around you and pulls you in closer, savoring the kiss as much as you are.

Then you gently break the kiss and look up into Stan's eyes, noticing he's wearing a goofy grin that you are sure is reflected on your own face. "I like you too, Stan," you say.

"Y' do?" he asks.

You laugh softly. "Obviously. What do you think that kiss was for?"

"Well, y'know, I do have a reputation as a ladykiller," he says with a smirk. "Maybe you just wanted-"

"Don't be ridiculous," you laugh. "It was a real, I-really-like-you-and-your-speech kiss,"

"Good," ha answers, and there's a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Glad you're as much of a sap as I thought you were,"

You give him a soft slap on the chest, as he chuckles, then he pulls you in for another kiss. "Wanna get outta here?"

"Yeah," you say softly.

"What about the birthday party?" he asks.

"He'll be fine without me," you say, and you know it's true. Tim obviously never really liked you in the first place, and you finally allowed yourself to admit it. "Unlike someone I know,"

"I'd be fine without you too," Stan says arrogantly. Then his face softens. "Just... not as fine as I could be." He raises an eyebrow at you. "Now c'mon- we can't let that dress go to waste,"

"Guess not," you answer with a huge smile, and give him your arm so the two of you can walk out of the door and into the night.

Chapter Text

He doesn't remember you.

To be fair, he doesn't remember a lot of people. But you were special to Stan Pines... or at least you thought.

You take one trip for a week at the end of the summer- and apparently missed a mini apocalypse. But Stan- the man you were in love with, and who told you he was in love with you too- had somehow stopped the apocalypse... and lost his entire memory in the process.

It felt like someone had stabbed you in the gut when Stan opened the door and gave you his bright salesman smile, telling you the Mystery Shack was closed for repairs. You thought he was joking at first, and told him to cut it out, but...

The encounter ended with a lot of crying, a little yelling, and the most awful sight of Stan looking at you as if he didn't know what to do.

And he always knew what to do with you. Sometimes it wasn't the right thing- he still was Stan Pines, after all, but... he was always so sure of himself around you. So... authentic. So real. He always told you that when he was with you, he felt the most like himself. That you were the one who made him relax every time he saw you...

And now you are just some hysterical woman who had a breakdown on his back porch.

You hadn't seen him since that day. You asked around town and the story he told you between your sobs checked out. But you didn't go back. You couldn't see him look at you like that again.

And then there's the knock at your door.

You blow your nose- you were just crying at a book you are reading, no other reason- and open the door-

to see Stan standing right in front of you.

He looks surprised, then disappointed, then determined. "Uh, hi," he says. "I didn't think you'd be home."

You are speechless.

"Soooo..." he says after a few agonizingly slow moments. "Can I come in?"

Your brain desperately grasps onto something it can understand. Inviting a guest inside your home, yes, that's something you know how to do. "Yes, sorry, come in," you stand away from the door, and watch as Stan- could you still call him Stan if he remembered nothing about what made him him?- walks in.

The manners part of your brain is thankfully still running on autopilot, so you at least don't sit there and stare or start crying. "Have a seat." you say, far more calmly than you feel. "Would you like something to drink?"

"You got a cherry Pitt cola?" he asks.

Of course you do. It's Stan's favorite flavor, you always have some on hand for when he came over. The realization that maybe some things hadn't changed gave you a little flash of hope. Maybe, if he was remembering things about his likes and dislikes, he'd remember liking you.

"So... I don't remember you," he tells you directly as you hand him the Pitt.

Well. So much for that theory.

"But I'm remembering more an' more every day. Usually with exposure to the memories, like pictures or just bein' with the person themselves. So, I wonder if you wouldn't mind... do you wanna go through our history together?" He makes a face, one you are intimately familiar with, the one he uses when he doesn't like something. "And leave the sobbing out of it?"

You chuckle a little. "Can you blame me?" you ask, halfway between sincerity and teasing.

"Guess not," Stan says. "But don' think it's been a walk in the park for me neither. D'ya know what it feels like to hear your name in a stranger's mouth 50 times a day? All expecting you to remember, to be they guy they liked, they depended on, the guy who owed them twenty bucks- I didn't pay it, by the way." Stan quickly adds.

You laugh softly, trying to stay calm. "I don't think there is any memory erasing trick that will make Stan Pines pay somebody back."

Stan let out a huge laugh, one that filled your whole home. The rooms missed that laugh; it always sounded so natural in your place, as if it belonged there. "Ha, so you do know me!" he said, then his smile faded. "So." he says. "You say we were together?"

"Yeah," you say, taking a deep breath and knowing you can't say anything more.

"Married?" he asks.

"No," you shake your head with the soft answer.

"You could've just lied about that," Stan says. "Like them cheesy soap operas I watch when I'm sick-" he cuts himself off and grins. "Another memory back in its place." Then he thinks about it and his grin fades. "That's a stupid memory to come back to," he mutters, then turns back to you. "But why didn't you lie- tell me things were better for you than they were?"

You shrug. "I think your family might have to say something about that," you say.

"Nah." Stan shakes his head. "Mabel has been trying to get us all married off before she goes home. And when I say "us all", I mean it. Me, Ford, Dipper-"

"Dipper?" you ask in astonishment.

"I know, her own brother! Such a betrayal," he puts a hand over his chest in mock sympathy. "'Course, with him it's just setting him up for the future. With me and Ford, she'd be happy if one of us just... eloped to Vegas." He laughs nervously.

"Stan," you start. "I-"

"Whoa, hang on, I ain't askin' you to elope with me," he says, putting out his hands and with genuine fear in his eyes. Then his expression softens. "But... you're really cute and you seemed pretty worked up the other day, so I wouldn't mind if... I mean, if you don't mind dealin' with someone who can't remember the easiest things about himself from just a week ago, then... OK, look," he lets out a frustrated huff. "You wanna get some dinner?"

He looks so hopeful, and it reminds you so much of the first time he asked you out. Your heart starts to melt and the little flash of hope you had earlier grows into full blown sunshine. "Yes," you say, heart swelling in your chest. "I'd like that very much."

He smiles, and you instantly see the man you fell in love with again. "All right," he says. "Let's give this a shot."

Chapter Text

"You shouldn't go in those woods by yourself," a voice calls after you. You turn around to see a man with shaggy brown hair, a white T-shirt that's slightly too small, and old blue jeans walking up to you.

"Why not?" you ask, but despite the playful tone in your voice, you are wary. You oh-so-slightly shift your stance, ready to run back to your car if you need to. "Are the wolves going to eat me all up?"

The man chuckles. "Wolves, sure. Not really during the day, but you never know," he shifts the large pack he's wearing on his back, making a dangling shovel clank with a metallic thermos hanging next to it. The movement emphasizes his arm and chest muscles through his shirt, and although you're still on guard, you very much appreciate the sight. "You'll wanna watch out for the other stuff in there, though."

"Oh?" you fold your arms and give him a raised eyebrow. "Like strange men carrying shovels?"

He looks at you in confusion, then laughs as he realizes you're talking about him. It's a nice laugh- big and boisterous and warm. "Yeah," he says. "Among other things."

"OK, I'll bite," you tell him. "What else do I need to watch out for? Besides running into someone who is on his way to bury a body?" You say it as a joke, but as soon as the words leave your mouth you wish you hadn't said them. What if that really was what was going on?

But luckily the man laughs again. "Nice try, but everyone knows you gotta bury a body at night, when no one can see," he has a twinkle in his eye, and you can't help but laugh yourself.

Of course he's joking.

He puts down his pack and bends backwards to crack his back, then leans against a tree. "How long've you lived in Gravity Falls?" he asks casually.

You quirk your head at the odd question. "Um... just moved in last week. Why," you give him a mischievous grin. "are you going to tell me about the colorful local legends?"

"Nah," he says, then smirks back. "Not for free, anyway. But," his expression changes to something subtly serious, and he looks at you for a few moments, lips pursed as if he is sizing you up.

"What?" you ask, a nervous giggle escaping from your mouth.

"All right, toots." he says finally. "I'm gonna tell you what I know, and it's up to you whether or not to believe me."

It's such a bizarre thing to hear, you don't know what to say, so just nod.

"So... Gravity Falls is a weird place. Y'know those urban legends that every town has? Gravity Falls has all of 'em, plus loads more. Jackalopes, shadow creatures, these... minotaur things," he isn't looking at you, and you know it's probably because of the skeptical expression on your face. "things you've never seen before, things you know, but thought weren't real, a... hazy memory from when you were a kid reflected in the stream, a dream that follows you-"

"That doesn't sound so bad," you interject.

He meets your gaze, and his eyes look... haunted. The cheerful guy is gone, and you know you are talking to someone who has been through things you couldn't even imagine. "Do you remember some of your dreams?" he asks quietly.

And despite yourself, you gulp.

The man looks at you a little longer, then nods. "So don't go into the woods alone, got it?" He hoists his pack back on his back, shovel clanking.

"Like you?" you ask tartly, grumpy that the unsettling feeling isn't going away.

"It's fine for me," he says easily. "I know what I'm doin'. Why?" he grins. "You wanna come with me?"

You laugh as you shake your head. "Shadow creatures or not, going into the woods with a stranger is just as dangerous." You take a deep breath. "Guess I'll save my hike for another day,"

The man has a relived smile on his face, but something in his eyes is sad. "Good choice, toots," he tells you. "Maybe next time I won't be a stranger," he gives you a wink. "Name's Stan, by the way."

Despite the disappointment of not going to explore that day, you feel a little gratitude for someone to give you common sense advice. It really wasn't a great idea to solo hike. You give him your name, then hesitate before saying, "And thanks. For being entertaining." You grin. "Maybe you could give monster tours or something to visitors one day."

The man- Stan- laughs. "Already do," he says. "Drop by the Mystery Shack for the fake stuff- it's a lot more fun." Stan gives you another salute, and soon disappears into the forest.

The Mystery Shack, huh? You definitely will be checking that out.

After all, you might need a hiking buddy.

Chapter Text

You never should have let Stan talk you into this.

"Come on a treasure hunt with me," he said. "You might see a dragon," he said. "It will be fun," he said.

And now you are alone, tied up, blindfolded, and very possibly about to be fed to a dragon unless Stan returns the money the two of you stole.

How were you supposed to know there was a dragon cult in Gravity Falls? Sure, there was that Society of the Blind Eye that... well, you didn't know too much about them, but you knew to avoid them. And there was the doomsday cult that kept on changing the last day of the world to the next year... and honestly you wouldn't have been surprised if the Northwest family led some sort of secret society with weird rituals... but that was a lot for any small town, even Gravity Falls. So what were the odds there would be another cult? And that you would run afoul of them?

Well, OK, hanging out with Stan probably upped the odds for that.

But the whole point of dragon's treasure is that you were supposed to take it. Dragons take stuff, build their hoard, adventurers take it back, it was like the circle of life!

That sounds so stupid when you think about it now, but it made sense when it was coming out of Stan's mouth. He was so good at convincing you to do stupid stuff, what with his big grin and roguish glint in his eye...it always sounded like so much fun.

And it had been fun to use an ancient map, solve puzzles, and find a sleeping dragon on top of a hoard the size of a football field. The two of you only took enough to fill a pillowcase each- in and out, perfectly fine.

Until half a dozen green-hooded people barged into your house, knocked you out, tied you up, and demanded you return the treasure or else.

What was it with secret societies and hoods, anyway?

You are desperately trying to untie the ropes binding your hands, and don't let yourself think about what will happen beyond that. Because if you start to think about the next steps- that you have to slip by the members of the dragon cult (who you could hear chanting in the next room), find your way out of the cavern without a map, then find your way home... not to mention there would be nothing stopping them from kidnapping you again... you would have a full-blown panic attack.

And now was not the time to panic.

Then you hear a low voice coming closer to you, continuing the chant from the nearby room, and know they are coming for you.

Now was the perfect time to panic.

You thrash around in a last ditch effort to escape from the ropes-

"Yeesh, calm down kid," Stan's gravelly voice is in your ear, and you immediately freeze.

"Stan? Stan!" you cry softly, heart filling up with hope so quickly you feel lightheaded. "You came to rescue me!"

"'Course I did," he says, as hands you can't see make quick work of cutting through the rope binding your wrists. Then he snorts. "Like I was going to pay the ransom,"

You can't help but let out a little laugh yourself, the sound combining with a little sob of relief. As soon as your hands are free, you pull off the blindfold to see Stan in a green robe, hood thrown back, kneeling in front of you to cut the rope around your ankles. It's such a humble gesture that makes you completely nonplussed. "You could have just left me," you say in a flat voice.

"And give the overgrown worm and those idiots the satisfaction of winning? C'mon, toots, you know me better than that," he says, and he looks up at you with a grin as the rope falls onto the ground, making your heart skip a beat.

You leap up out of the chair and quickly bend over to help Stan up. "What now?" you ask. "Even if we get out of here, they're only going to come for us again..."

"Not if they think they've killed us," he says, and you start to laugh until he catches your eye.

"Oh my gosh you're serious," you say.

"I've done stuff like this before," he tells you a little proudly. "We just gotta sell it."

It turns out selling it involves a lot of explosions and finding a back way out of the cave before running all the way back to Stan's place at the edge of the forest... but somehow the two of you pull it off.

"I...I can't believe that happened!" you say, pacing around Stan's living room, laughing and hyped up on adrenaline. "You... you saved me from a dragon. From an actual dragon."

"Heh, yeah." he says proudly, then pauses. "'Course, I was kinda the one who got you into that mess,"

"But you got me out of it," you say, and look him in the eye. "And you didn't have to,"

"Aw c'mon, sweetheart, you know I couldn't live without you," he says, then squints his eyes closed and groans in embarrassment. "I mean... uh..."

"Stan," you breathe, eyes shining. "Really?"

"Don't read too much into it," he says grouchily. "In fact, you'd better get home. Rest up, or whatever. I'm gonna need you for the next adventure pretty soon."

But you have been around him long enough to know when he's sincerely angry and when he's just blustering, and you don't take offense at all. "OK," you say, then give him a kiss on the cheek. "For the brave knight," you say.

He rolls his eyes, "Oh c'mon, that's cheesy even for me," he says.

You shrug, and give him a wink, feeling giddy. "Thanks again, Stan," you say. "See you tomorrow?"

His face relaxes out of his scowl, and you think he looks slightly more pink than usual. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

And you walk out the door, wondering what the next adventure will bring.

Hopefully more excuses to kiss Stan Pines.