Chapter Text
He's weak.
He's a loser.
I just wanna get rid of him!
You ignoramus!
You have two sons: one of them is incredibly gifted, the other one is standing outside of this room and his name's Stanley.
Extra Stan for sale.
All you ever do is lie and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails!
Until you make us a fortune, you're not welcome in this household!
"Stan." A hushed voice woke him up.
Stan groaned, rolling over to the other side of the bed.
"Stanley!" Slim fingers wrapped around his shoulder.
"Ah? Wha...?" He mumbled, sitting up defensively.
Fiddleford laughed, holding his arm gently. "Stanley, the kids're comin'."
"I don't have any kids," he argued.
"Mason and Mabel. Your great niece and nephew? Don't tell me ye've fergotton, darlin'?"
He paused. "No...?"
Fiddleford laughed. "Get dressed. Their bus'll be here in 'n hour."
"I got time," he grumbled. His arms wrapped around the skinny man and pulled him back into bed with him.
"Stanley!" He laughed, his southern accent ringing beautifully through Stan's ears.
"Five more minutes, Fidds..." He nestled his face into the man's neck, and his lovely, soft sweater.
"Ye gotta get dressed, darlin'. C'mon."
He kissed his husband's nose.
"We can finish this later, alright?"
Stan groaned. "Alright..."
(---)
Stanley looked down at his husband, tying his little tie. Bow? Whatever it was.
"Is somethin' botherin' you, beau?"
"What if the kids don't like me?" He burst out. "Or the Shack? Or Soos? Or..."
"Or me?"
Stanley chuckled. "That's impossible."
Fiddleford smiled. "They're gonna love you. Like I do."
He pressed a gentle kiss to his husband's lips.
Their kisses were never really perfect anymore - not now that they were old, with scratchy beards and chapped lips - but this was as close as it got.
Full of love and devotion.
All twenty years of it, in one simple little action.
The tiniest press of lips.
"Mr Pineses?" Soos called through the Shack, interrupting the affection. "We're opening in five!"
"We open when I say we open!" Stan shouted back.
His husband giggled. "Ye can get in a tour or two before ye get the kids. Ye gonna be okay?"
"Yep. You keep working on that surprise, Fiddlenerd."
The southerner deadpanned.
"We've been married fer twenty years and yer still callin' me that?"
"That nickname's for life, Fiddlenerd."
He rolled his eyes fondly. "I'll see ye later, Lee."
"Not if I see you first, Fidds."
They exchanged another gentle kiss before going their separate ways.
(---)
Stanley adjusted his fez, as the bus slowed to a stop infront of him. The doors opened with a hiss, and the twins stepped out infront of him, clutching several suitcases.
They looked at eachother in silence until the bus drove away.
Stan cleared his throat. "Hey, kids! I'm your Great Uncle Stan... ford. But you can call me your Grunkle Stan!"
"Uh, hi there... Grunkle Stan..." The boy said.
"It's been forever since I've seen you two! Hell, last time I saw you, you were like..." He held out a rough measurement of their sizes at birth.
He didn't have a good memory.
"I'm Mabel!" The girl cheered. "And this is my brother, Dipper!"
He shook Mabel's hand. "Nice grip, kiddo!"
"So... where do you live?" Dipper questioned.
"Down the road there. Don't worry, I brought the truck. Let me get some of your suitcases and we'll get you kids settled in for summer!"
(---)
After a ride down the bumpy country road - during which Dipper was clearly restraining himself from commenting on his Grunkle's driving - the trio arrived at Stan's humble abode.
"Kids, welcome to the Mystery Shack!"
The building creaked ominously in the wind.
They walked across the front porch, hearing the wood straining beneath them, and entered for the very first time.
"'Sup, Mr Pines," a voice greeted.
"Kids, this is Wendy. She works for me. Wendy, this is Dipper and Mabel."
"Nice to meet you guys."
"Uh, y-yeah, nice to meet you too!" Dipper grinned.
Stan placed a hand on their shoulders and guided them further into the Shack.
"Ignore these bozos, they're just tourists."
He brought them out of the gift shop and showed them all the rooms on the lower floor.
"These are the stairs, as you can see. And Soos should be around here somewhere..."
"Here, Mr Pines."
The three jumped, spinning around to find the large man behind them.
"There he is! Dipper, Mabel, this here is our handyman, Soos! If you need any help, you can ask..."
He trailed off when Soos stuffed his finger in his belly button, pulled it out, and sniffed it curiously.
"On second thought, nevermind. If you really need anything you should ask--"
"Stan?"
The three spun around once more, and saw the silhouette of a skinny man at the top of the stairs.
Stan couldn't stop the grin, spreading across his face like a wildfire.
"Kids, this is your Grunkle Fidds."
"Howdy, kids!"
Fiddleford slid down the bannister, earning a thoroughly impressed gasp from Mabel.
"Uh, our parents didn't tell us we had a... Grunkle Fidds."
"Uh, yeah, your parents haven't actually met him yet. See he's my..."
He looked at Dipper and Mabel's faces.
"My..."
He looked at Fiddleford.
"H-He's my..."
He watched Soos lick his finger.
"He's my... b-business... partner..."
Fiddleford just smiled. "Yep! I'm Stan's business par'ner 'n roommate. Pleasure t'be meetin' ye's."
He shook each of their hands in turn.
"I love your accent! Are you from England?" Mabel asked.
He chuckled. "Not quite. You mus' be Mabel!"
"Yup! And this is my brother, Dipper!"
"It's v'ry nice t'meet ye both! Now, if ye'll excuse me, I got some business par'ner things t'be dealin' with!" He walked past the trio, subtly tapping Stan's rear as he passed.
"Toodle-oo!"
Stan scratched the back of his neck as he watched him go.
"Uhh... Right! The tour!"
(---)
The day went by quick and Stan was terrified.
His Shack was not nearly well stocked enough to feed two growing children!
What do kids need to eat? Meat? Vegetables? Candy?
"Darlin'? Somethin' wrong?"
"Fidds, you've got a kid. Whadda they gotta eat?"
"Food, traditionally."
"Don't be such a smart ass, doll, I gotta feed 'em!"
Fiddleford sucked his teeth. "I dunno, kinda seems more like a problem for a husband than a business partner."
He sighed. "Alright, Fidds, I'm sorry. I panicked. Y'know I'm not out to my family."
"I know. But everyone in town was at our weddin'. They're gonna find out eventually."
Stan nodded, leaning against the counter. "I dunno. I'm not good with kids."
"You were always good with Tate."
"Yeah, 'cause I didn't see 'im everyday. I could throw candy at him and not deal with the consequences!"
Fiddleford laughed, his head dropping on his husband's shoulder. "These kids'll love you."
"They don't, though! Dipper keeps complaining that he's all freaked out and that all my exhibits are a hoax."
"What about Mabel?"
"Oh, she's loving it. But if she's anything like I was at that age, she'll trust whatever her brother tells her."
Fidds hummed. "You'll get used to it. Fer their first night, order 'em a pizza or somethin'. Save yer terrible cookin' fer later."
Stan turned his head sharply. "What did you say about my cooking?"
His husband paused.
"Nothin'..."
"You little shit!"
In one swift motion, he swept Fiddleford onto the counter and started tickling him.
"You take that back!"
"Ah! Stan, quit it!" Fidds gasped through his laughter. "You know I'm ticklish!"
"That's the point, Fiddlenerd," he smirked victoriously as he ceased the attack.
He let the other man catch his breath before leaning down and kissing him softly. Fidd's arms snaked around his shoulders as his took their usual position around his thin waist.
Fidds smiled against his lips, before leaning in even further and--
"Oh."
The couple separated instantly as Dipper appeared in the doorway.
"Hey there... sport," Stan said awkwardly.
"I'm gonna..." The boy pointed behind him as he slowly backed away.
The pair remained frozen.
Well, that didn't take long.
(---)
While everyone waited for pizza, Fiddleford looked around for his husband.
After Dipper had walked in on them, he'd gone for a minute of alone time so he could think of what to do.
It had been 15 minutes and Stanley was nowhere to be seen.
And neither were the twins, for that matter.
"Soos?"
"Yah?"
Fiddleford found the handyman sat infront of the TV.
"Have ye seen Stan? Or the twins, fer that matter?"
"Uhh, no. I think they're in the attic though."
"Thanks, buddy."
"No problem, dude."
Up the three flights of stairs, he found his husband sat in the attic, back against the wall of the twin's room.
"Sugar plum?"
Stanley looked up with tears in his eyes.
"Woah, hey, darlin'." He whispered softly, sitting down beside the man. "What's wrong?"
"Listen to them."
Fiddleford pressed his ear against the wall.
"Woah, you're saying he was kissing his business partner?!" Mabel gasped.
"I'm saying, Stan is hiding something!" Dipper was saying, "And there is definitely something going on in this town!"
At this, Stanley reached out and held Fiddleford's hand.
He knew his husband had seen some terrible things when he was working with Stanford - the real Stanford. After all this time, he had no clue what it had entailed, but he knew how terribly it had effected him.
"What do you think we should do?"
There was a pause.
A terrible, heart shattering pause.
"We could... run away and report him to someone."
No.
No.
Nononononononono.
"Like who?" Mabel asked. "The CIA?"
"I was thinking the police, but that works too."
"But, it's night time. How are we gonna get out without being noticed?"
"So you wanna do it?" Dipper asked.
The couple outside the door sucked in a breath.
"I-I dunno, Dipper. We'd get in a lotta trouble... And the woods look really scary."
"Tell you what, did we pack that Magic 8 Ball?"
"Uhh, yeah, I think so."
"Then we'll see what it says."
There was movement in the room, and neither of the men dared to breathe.
"Got it!" Mabel cheered a second later.
The twins sighed. "Should we stay here with Grunkle Stan?"
Stan tightened his grip on his husband's hand.
His eyes screwed shut.
He didn't dare to breathe.
"Signs point to yes..." Mabel read out.
Stan nearly collapsed in relief.
"Are we gonna be safe here?" Dipper raised the question.
"Cannot predict now."
Before another question could be posed to the toy, there was a knock at the door.
Fiddleford stood up, guiding his husband back up onto his shaking legs.
"Kids! Dinner's here!" Fidds called to them.
He linked his arm with Stan's and headed for the front door.
(---)
"Well, Ducktective, it seems that the business partner was indeed the murderer!"
"Quack, quack. Quack!"
The Pines family - and Soos - gasped at that plot twist.
"It was her husband the whole time?!" Mabel gasped.
Dipper cleared his throat. "Uh, speaking of husbands..."
The couple flushed.
"Oh. Right. Uh... yeah. Fidds is my husband."
Cue awkward silence.
"You little squirts got a problem with that?"
"Nope!" They chirped.
"Good."
Fiddleford cleared his throat. "Welp! Now that's outta the way, whaddya say we eat some homemade fudge pie?"
"Yaaay!"
(---)
The couple laid down in bed together at the end of the day.
"See, darlin'? Told ya we could handle the kids."
"Shuddup and hug me, Fiddlenerd."
Fiddleford McGucket-Pines kissed his husband's head.
"Love ya, sugar plum."