Chapter Text
It had been a couple of days since the Wax Stan fiasco. There wasn't much going on around the Shack apart from the usual tourist groups and the gnomes fighting the local wildlife for trash can rights. Pretty normal stuff. Almost like it had been for the thirty years without the twins around.
Still, the peace couldn't last.
Stan didn't know it at the time, but the next couple of days were about to be more exciting than anything that had happened yet that summer.
And it all started with a television commercial.
Stan grins as the latest tour group gathers around him, all eager to throw their money away into his Mystery Sack. Really, these guys would fall for anything! And they're happy to do it, a few of the older women even going so far as to pinch his cheeks.
It's a weird feeling, having these women look at him like he's adorable or something. Yuck. He's old enough to be their husband. They shouldn't be cooing over him like he was some scamp of a grandson.
He'd never had any old ladies doing this when he really was a kid back in Jersey. They were usually running him off with a broom for stealing pies or something off the windowsill.
Stan plastered his showman smile on as the last lady turned to him, feeling the strain of keeping an act up as she patted his cheek maternally.
"Such a handsome young man," the lady sighs. "And a good son, too ― running this place for your dad. I've met him, you know. The Mystery Shack was a favorite stop of mine when we were younger. I didn't even know Stanford had a son… Is he around?"
The hopeful look in the lady's eyes and the slight pink in her face was enough to keep Stan from bolting into the house. The question felt kind of shady, but he also had vague memories of flirting it up with this particular woman over the years. From dark hair to the silvers he had worn until just recently, she had been around for quite a while.
He still couldn't remember her name.
"Uh, yeah, that's me!" He said as cooly as he could manage, tugging at his collar. Why did the tie suddenly feel suffocating? " Stanford’s son! "
"You said your name was Stan, too, didn't you? At the start of the tour? Are you a junior?" The lady smiled in a way that might have been teasing, but Stan was already shuddering at the thought of being named after his father.
Let Ford have that one all to himself. He was fine with his middle name being his mother's maiden name. Romanoff sounded pretty cool, anyway.
"No! Nononono," he waved his hands frantically. "I'm― Lee! Stanley Pines… The Second! Named after an uncle."
"Aw, how sweet, carrying on a family legacy like that." The lady patted his head once more. "Well, Stanley, tell your father that Dolores is back in town when you see him. Over at the Fall-In Hotel."
Stan felt his ears grow hot. Okay, maybe they hadn't just... flirted it up. More like, if she was around more often, Dolores would have been in line for the next, ex-Mrs. Mystery title.
"You got it, toots." He grinned, winking. Then flinched and backtracked. "I mean, Ma'am. Definitely ma'am. I gotta, uh ― go wash the goat! Bye!"
With the Mystery Sack tucked securely under his arm, Stan bolted for the Shack's backdoor, racing past the stairs to throw himself into his armchair.
"Ugh," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Dealing with an ex like this is the worst."
Soos patted his back sympathetically while the twins, both sprawled out on the floor, turned to look at him curiously.
"You have an old girlfriend outside?!" Mabel squealed with excitement, stars in her eyes.
"Emphasis on the old girlfriend." Stan raised a pointed eyebrow at her and gestured to his face. "She thinks I'm his son. Had to give her a stage name and everything."
Mabel wrinkled her nose. "That's... kind of weird."
"Very weird." Dipper agreed.
"What're we watching?" Stan asked, hiding his money sack beneath the chair cushion for now. He looked at the TV hopefully. " Tiger Fist ?"
"We're waiting on the commercials now!" Mabel said brightly.
"Oh, look!" Soos said suddenly, pointing at the TV. "It's that commercial I was telling you dudes about!"
Stan's lip curled with disgust as the advertisement continued to play, Gideon Gleeful's annoyingly shrill tones ringing in his ears. It sounded even worse without his hearing aide muffling the sound. He missed being able to turn it off when he didn't want to listen to people talk.
He sat up enough to unbutton his jacket and toss it in the direction of the coat rack. It was entirely too hot this summer and he wanted out of his pants five minutes ago. He paused in the middle of stripping to stare at the pile of fabric on the ground, wondering why he had done that instead of hanging it up properly.
He always hung his jacket up ― ever since donning his Mr. Mystery persona.
Admittedly, he was a bit messy by nature, but leaving his clothes laying around haphazardly felt entirely too... teenager-ish .
Stan hurried to right his wrong and turned back to the kids in time to hear Dipper voice the desire to check out Gideon's road show.
"No!" Stan barked, face feeling itchy from the mere idea of getting close to the Tent of Telepathy. "Never! You are forbidden from patronizing the competition!"
Soos chuckled at him. "Dude, I can't take you seriously with that face. You're like a baby bear. So cute!”
Stan made a frustrated noise as he stomped up the stairs.
They'd listen to his warnings if they knew what was good for them.
And, of course, they didn't listen. They were his family ― why would they?
Pines were never good at keeping their noses out from where they didn't belong. (Usually their noses were too big to even bother with trying, but the twins were still growing into theirs.)
With only a quick stop by the Corduroy house to grab Wendy for backup (and boy was it weird, considering Dan didn't recognize Stan and tried giving him the shovel talk about taking Wendy out), Stan arrived at the Tent of Telepathy just in time to miss the show.
Thank Moses. He really didn't want to listen to Gideon sing some cutesy song and do his little dance. It was unsettling.
The only song and dance he ever sat through was that VHS tape of Dipper's Lamby Lamby Dance the twins' mom had sent him. He still had that, somewhere. Probably had the pictures of him holding the newborn twins somewhere, too.
He should really find those things. The kids would probably like to see them.
"Man, that kid's an even bigger fraud than Stan." Dipper was saying as he and Mabel exited the tent. "No wonder our uncle's jealous."
"I'm not jealous of that twerp!" Stan snapped, startling the kids. They looked up at him guiltily, Wendy merely shrugging when they turned to her for help. "I specifically forbade yous two from coming here and you still did it anyway! And what's worse is you dragged Soos along with you ― where is he anyway?"
"He went to get the truck," Dipper mumbled, tugging his cap over his eyes to avoid looking at his uncle.
"Oh, come on, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel smiled at him, eyes wide and sparkling. Oh, boy ― he'd have to stay strong if he wanted to stay angry. "Gideon's dance moves were adorable! And his hair is like, whoosh . Give him a chance!"
Your niece is being duped by this brat, Stanley.
The ideal of her trusting heart being taken advantage of was enough to relight the fire of anger in his heart.
“Absolutely not!" Stan growled, grabbing the twins and throwing them over his shoulder like sacks of potatoes. "We’re going home ― and I don't want to hear anymore about that Gideon brat or ― or I'll ground you!"
"You're pretty serious about that kid," Wendy observed with mild surprise. "Does he really get on your nerves that bad?”
"Doesn't he get on yours?" Stan retorted with a scowl. "I've heard you complain about him stealin' your fancy face lotion enough times to know you can't stand him, either."
Wendy grimaced at the reminder. "Yeah, that shit's expensive."
"Language!"
"Y'know," Wendy continued, ignoring him. She poked his cheek, earning a yelp from him as she pressed on a tender spot. "You could use some skincare yourself. You're breakin' out something bad, man."
"It's a Pines thing," Stan brushed her off, wincing at the itchy feeling overtaking his face. Now that she’d drawn attention to it, it was hard to ignore. "We got oily skin. What can I do about it?"
"Wash your face?" Wendy snorted. "They make specialty stuff for your skin type now. This isn't the sixties."
"I'm not puttin' any snake oil on my face, Wendy."
"I'll bring you some face wash tomorrow, Maybe a face mask, too."
"Oooh," Mabel perked up. "Spa day?"
"Don't even think about it, pumpkin.” Stan ordered sternly, pointing his finger at her as he deposited the twins in the El Diablo. "Yous guys are on house arrest ― we're not doing anything fun tomorrow except givin' tours and flossing tourists!"
Wendy brought the face masks.
"I think this might even be more fun than my idea of bedazzling my face!" Mabel exclaimed happily, patting her panda mask into place.
Stan glowered at the TV, sat firmly in his chair with his arms crossed. He might have made an imposing figure, if not for the cat mask he was wearing. It was cold and sticky and smelt like plants.
His house was in the middle of the woods ― wasn't that enough nature for his body?
"That sounds like a painful idea." Dipper shot an amused look at his sister, to which she just sighed.
"I'm unappreciated in my time," she mourned, earning a pat on the back from Wendy. The redhead in question was wearing a dog mask and was watching Dipper like a wolf. There was still one face mask left and one blank slate left for her to work with.
Stan was actually looking forward to seeing if she could convince Dipper to go along with them or if Wendy would have to wrestle the boy down to put the product on his face.
Which was how she'd strong-armed Stan into participating.
Seriously ― she'd put him into a headlock and slapped the mask on him while he was choking.
It would have been impressive ― if he wasn't so humiliated by it.
She would have never even thought about it if he'd still had his old man body!
Ding! Dong!
Stan glanced over his shoulder at the door, moving to take off his mask.
Wendy slapped his hand down and glared at him.
"Fifteen minutes." She reminded him sternly.
He growled in frustration.
"It could be a tour group!" he protested. "I can't give a tour like this!"
"It could also be a salesman or something." Wendy rolled her eyes. "You're not getting out of this yet, man."
"Wendy..."
"I'll get it!" Mabel volunteered easily, hopping off Stan's lap where she'd been pinning him into place. "If it's a tourist, I'll scream really loud so you can get ready!"
Well, Mabel didn't end up screaming, but Stan thought that she should have.
From the first twangs of a Southern accent floating through the front door, Stan felt his blood pressure spike.
He threw himself out of the armchair, no longer worrying about Wendy and her face masks, and bolted for the door.
Gideon smiled up at him in a false show of innocence.
"Why, hello there! I'm Lil ― "
Stan snatched Mabel back and slammed the door in Gideon's face.
"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel cried out in shock, staring at him with the most wounded face he'd ever seen from her before. "Why did you do that?"
This was no accident, Stan! You did this!
Stan grimaced and shook his head to dislodge the unwanted memory. He fixed his glare on his niece and fought to stay in the moment.
This was a problem in the present, not the past.
"I'm not going to let that little fake lead you on, Mabel." He said sternly and crossed his arms. "He's no good."
"He's adorable and appreciates my style!" Mabel retorted hotly. "I'm just trying to make a friend. This is my summer vacation! I'm supposed to be out riding bikes and doing stupid stunts without adult supervision."
"You'd rather run off with a stranger than hang out with your family? You were just having fun putting slime on my face, in case you forgot!"
Mabel deflated slightly. "It was nice to do something I like with you and Wendy... but you're such a sour puss about it! Gideon actually likes doing stuff like this..."
Stan slumped, sighing. He ruffled her hair gently and pulled her into a hug.
"I'll try to keep the complaints down." Stan said quietly. "But no promises! I never did anything like this as a kid and it's strange to me. I ― I never had friends as a kid, just a brother. And boys back then would've been in hot water for doing girly stuff like this. There ain't nuthin' wrong with it and takin' care of yourself. But the world was a lot more small-minded. Even for those free lovin' hippies."
He shuddered at the reminder of a certain long-haired guitarist.
"Yeah, I guess you and Grandpa would have been doing other stuff when you were my age." Mabel smiled weakly at him. "Kinda like us now. He's older than you, too. It must be weird being the 'teen' role model instead of being the little brother, huh?"
Stan's brow furrowed and he wondered how Shermie got pulled into the conversation.
He'd been so much older than them, so Stan and Ford didn't bond with him like ―
Never had friends... Just a brother.
Stan froze.
Oh. Oh shit .
Ohnonono.
"Pretty weird kiddo." He said hollowly, ushering her back into the living room with Wendy and Dipper. He could feel his control slipping by the second and he knew he only had moments before he broke. Already his chest felt tight. "I gotta go ― make a phone call! Berightback! "
As soon as Mabel crossed the threshold of the room, Stan turned on his heel and bolted for his bedroom.The door slammed behind him and he sank down against it, burying his fingers in his hair.
Oh, sweet Moses ― he'd nearly ruined it all!
He was grateful, for what seemed like the first time in his life, to have another brother.
All his life, Shermie had felt more like a stranger to Stan than a sibling. Too old to play with his dumb baby brothers, then away at war while his wife and son crashed at the pawn shop. Then Stan was on the streets and Shermie moved across the country to Washington. He hadn't even come to 'Stanley's' funeral.
In fact, the last time Stan had seen his oldest brother was nearly thirteen years ago when the younger twins were born. They'd sat together outside the NICU, sharing anxious looks as they waited to hear if Dipper was going to live through the night after the complications he'd been born with. Shermie and Stan had even shared a relieved hug after they found out the boy was going to be fine and Shermie shared a story about something similar that had happened with Stanford and Stanley.
Not only had the Stan twins shared a placenta, but Stanley had been breached. While the nurses were quietly, exclaiming over Stanford's extra fingers and shooting nervous looks at Filbrick, who had forced his way into the delivery room, the doctors had converged on Caryn and were discussing the possibility of surgery to help deliver the second twin.
Stanley, however, was impatient and didn't take being separated from his twin well, even as an infant.
There hadn't even been enough time to unlock the brakes on the hospital bed and move their mother to the operating room before Stanley forced his way out into the world.
Poor little Shermie, who'd snuck into the room, was both horrified and amazed by the whole experience.
Little brothers, he'd commented while holding a tiny, baby Dipper, are a handful. You always gotta be on the lookout for them cause they'll give you a heart attack if you look away for a second.
And then he put Dipper in Stan's free arm, the other already occupied by a sleeping Mabel, and left him with the youngest Pines twins.
And Stan fell in love in an instant. So much so that he'd nearly gotten into a fistfight with Shermie about whose turn it was to cuddle the babies later.
But as much as he'd loved Dipper and Mabel, being around them was dangerous.
The more time he spent with his family, the more risk he took in keeping up his ruse.
So he'd stayed away and only sent letters and the occasional gift by mail.
He had planned on keeping the twins at an arm's length this summer, but that was proving futile at this point.
He nearly let precious info about Ford slip to Mabel in an attempt to connect with her and keep her out of Gideon's clutches.
Stan groaned miserably and leaned his head back against the door.
"Oh man, Sherm," he muttered into the empty room. "Little brothers may be a handful, but older siblings are no picnic, either."