Chapter Text
“See? Nothing strange is going on.” Stanley shifted in the seat that Stanford had practically thrown him into a little over three hours ago. Three long hours of staring at the ceiling and watching his brother run himself ragged trying to find something that would simply not show up.
“I’m not dropping this one Stanley, if the weirdness of Gravity falls is affecting you in any way I need to figure out how.” Stanley rolled his eyes as he watched his brother shoot from one table to the other. “If you’re anything like mom it may be something detrimental if we don't keep a close eye on it.” Stanley sighed, there was no reason for his brother to assume that their mother had suffered because of her own abilities, it made no sense for him to make the connection now.
“Sixer, between you and me you’re acting more like mom right now than I ever have.” If anything he just wanted his brother to admit he was being way too overprotective right now. Stanford scoffed at that, “maybe you should have this helmet on instead of me?” Stanford bit back a retort, the last thing he needed was a fight when they were surrounded by delicate machinery.
It only caused more problems, Stanley still wouldn't let him look at him without a jacket or any other long sleeved shirt.
Stanley attempted to crack his neck, looking up incredulously at the hat that Stanford had unceremoniously shoved on his head once more. The helmet was just about as heavy as Fiddleford’s kid soaking wet, all that weight focused on his head wasn't exactly comfortable, especially not for three hours at a time.
Speaking of…
“Wheres the kid?”
“Fiddleford brought him here, he can watch him.”
Stanley glared over at his brother but Stanford was already leaning over his computer that was currently projecting Stanley's thoughts, the words across the screen shifting from questions about lunch, abruptly to the whereabouts of the kid.
Back in the house, morning sun beginning to wane under the weight of afternoon, Fiddleford sat on his usual chair, plucking methodically at his banjo. It was getting harder to remember where to put his hands, probably a memory gun thing, but he kept going, willing himself to remember all those late nights in college, before… everything.
The man was so engrossed in his playing that he didn't hear the light pitter-patter of footsteps as Tate stepped down from the attic and into the main room, his back laden with a heavy bag filled with what looked like food and an old school book that had never been properly filled.
Tate watched his father with wide eyes, tip-toeing toward the door, his mind flashing with images of the gnome that he'd seen the night before. He had to know what else was out there, but to do that he needed to get out of this house without his father stopping him.
“I’m a- going out today papa.” Fiddleford didn't look up from his banjo, just humming in acknowledgement as he continued glaring down at his hands. “Might not be back until late…”
“Uh huh.” Tate grit his teeth. His father had once been the most attentive person he knew, surely the answers for his strange behavior would be out there somewhere? Just another reason to head out without anyone being suspicious.
“Okay… I’ll be home in time for dinner.” Fiddleford made another hum of acknowledgement, the banjo making an awkward TANG! as he continued glaring down at the instrument.
Tate huffed as he slammed the door behind him. His best bet was to start in town, ask around and see if anyone knew where he could find something that would point him in the right direction.
The boy practically slid down the steep slope of Mr. Pines driveway, grasping at long weeds and grass on his way down, glaring at the loose rocks and unfamiliar trees that surrounded him as he followed the road. It wasn't any farther than the walk across his yard back home.
As he thought, before he even started feeling the burn of constant use of his legs, Tate found himself standing in the bustling town of Gravity Falls.
It all looked identical to how it did the day before, if not more busy. Adults were doing whatever they did when they went into town, and he saw one or two girls riding around on tricycles. The bright summer sun beat down on his back as he made his way through the crowd.
Who would he even ask, what would he ask them?
His mother had told him once that public interactions just wasn't his strong suit, told him that he would understand some day but for now it just felt like a lonely existence. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to speak to the adults that surrounded him on all sides.
Part of him wanted to go back to the house, maybe try and find Mr. Pines or sit next to his father, even if he only seemed to become more distant than ever. It was still better than watching people push past each other and speak above him like he wasn't even there.
“Hey, you’re that kid!” Tate almost jumped out of his skin, whirling around to find the voice that had called to him.
He hadn't been looking for more than a second before a more familiar face appeared through the crowd, blonde hair and green hat standing out in the crowd as he pushed his way to Tate.
“Do you remember me? It's Tyler.” The boy pushed a hand forward, “Good to see ya didnt leave, I had so many questions!”
“Questions?” Tate pushed his hat back into place, he was just happy that he wasn't alone anymore, Tyler had mentioned something about growing up here so if anyone knew who to go to with questions then surely he would.
“Yeah- is that guy your dad?” Tate blinked, Tyler gave him a hopeful look before continuing. “Not the one with six fingers, the other one with the chin whiskers and the hair?” Tyler held up his hand like whoever he was supposed to be talking about was on the taller side, unfortunately it was hard to differentiate most any of the adults he was talking about right now.
“My… dad?” Tate was getting more and more confused by the second. His father had been so strange, Mr. Pines had been kind to him, and the other Mr. Pines had yet to do more than throw a blanket his way. Despite his clear confusion, Tyler only seemed more enthused to ask.
“Yeah, the guy that gotcha out of the water?” Tate blinked.
His dad always told him not to lie, but in all honesty Mr. Pines had been more like a father to him recently than his own father, between cooking for him when he got the chance, that night in the woods, and again when he offered to take him home. He may look big and scary, but he was also the only one that went after him when he fell into the lake. Surely he wouldn't mind playing pretend for a bit?
“I- yeah, he's my dad.” Tate nodded as if he could make it true if he too believed it. It wasn't like Tyler would be meeting Mr. Pines anyway beyond saying hello in passing, what harm could one little fib do?
“Really? That's so cool!” Tyler brightened up as he grabbed Tate's hand and began pulling him away in a different direction, his face spreading out into a wide grin and his eyes bright with something that Tate couldn't read. “He saved my life not too long ago, did he tell you about it?”
Tate blinked up at him, Tyler took it as an answer before beginning to drag him farther around town.
“Well don't worry, I’ll tell ya all about it!” He looked over his shoulder to give Tate a goofy grin. “Why are you so far away from your house anyway?”
Tate and Tyler began on their way to the forest, Tyler practically talking Tate's ear off on the way.
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Stanley let out a relieved sigh as he was finally able to take off the helmet and leave his brother to whatever graphs he had to commute with. Honestly what Stanford did with his research was more like witchcraft than the man would ever admit.
Stanley hummed to himself as he stood in the elevator, only pausing when he saw Fiddleford sitting on the couch with a blank expression. The gentle affection he’d held for the assistant up until recently still refused to make its way through him, instead a general sense of disappointment took its place as he made his way to the living room.
“Heya Specs, where's the kid?” Now that he was closer to Fiddleford, the man looked more, almost blissful. It reminded Stanley of a drug addict he’d seen on the streets, a man that had robbed him of some junk he’d stolen off someone else. He hadn't even waited until he had stepped away, just taking the drugs without a second thought.
The man's expression mere moments later had been the subject of envy for Stanley for months after that. Sure he’d taken some here and there, but they always lost their edge after the first month in.
Seeing Fiddleford with that kind of expression felt wrong on so many levels.
“Who?” Stanley blinked.
”Your son?”
Fiddleford didn't say anything for a second, before giving Stanley a noncommittal hum.
“He stepped out, why?” Stanley felt his eyebrow twitch.
On one hand, this was the eighties, kids were more than welcome to run a muck as much as they wanted. On the other hand there were massive monsters running around every corner of this place right now.
He thought back to that night in his room, he hadn't gotten a vision since, so he felt like the kid was more than likely safe. On the other hand, he wasn't that old.
“I think I’ll go check up on them. Let Stanford know I’ll be back in time for dinner.” Fiddleford made a sound of acknowledgement, that strange waxy look in his eye still lingering as his fingers messed mindlessly with his banjo.
The screen door slammed behind him as Stanley stomped off to his car. The kid had to be somewhere in town, and he would find him.
Tate and Tyler looked up at the treeline with differing levels of awe. With Tyler looking like he was looking at an old friend, and Tate, clearly not having known that a tree could be that big, much less a whole forest of them.
“First time in a forest city boy?” Tyler gave Tate a look, who sent one right back.
“Oh I’m the city boy, have you ever even seen a pig farm?” Tyler’s eyes brightened at that.
“You live on a pig farm?” Tyler spoke excitedly, “what the heck are you doing here?” Tate regarded him for a moment, eyes shifting from his new friend to the forest ahead.
“Mama wanted time with her girlfriend.” Tate spoke softly, “and I kinda wanted to see my dad again.”
“Hows that going for ya?” Tyler gave Tate a smile as he began wandering toward the treeline.
“Once I figure out what's going on with… my dads friend, I should be doing much better.” Tate refused to meet Tyler's eye as he followed behind him.
“Fraid I dont know anyone else going through what your dads friend is, but if the answer is anywhere, it's here.” Tyler gestured toward the endless forest. “Grandma used to say the forest knows the soul, maybe it can help yours”
Tate took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as they continued trekking through the forest.
It truly was different from the sparse trees back home, most of them not even a decade old. Looking up at the sprawling ancient pines, the duality would have overwhelmed him if he didn't have someone to follow.
True to Mr. Pine's words, the forest was very weird. It started off normal, but quickly transformed into unnatural territory. Ducks with their faces on their stomachs, one or two gnomes here and there, and a few doors that Tyler dragged him away from before he could look at it twice.
“It's all really cool.” Tate spoke with an air of awe as Tyler stopped to pet a strange creature with a pelt of what looked like plaid. “But I don't know how this is supposed to help me.”
“There are plenty of strange things around here. I’m sure we’re bound to come across something.” Tyler spoke as the creature (Plad-ipus?) skittered back into the treeline/ "Isn't that one guy with six fingers researching the forest?” Tyler looked at him with a raised eyebrow but Tate just shrugged.
“Beats me, he hasn't said much to me.” It would have probably been a good idea to bring one of those books that he’d seen in the house.
“Well he’s your dads twin brother, maybe those smarts run in the family!” Tyler spoke brightly as he began skipping down the path they had taken.
The path continued much the same, the pair eventually pausing to watch a flock of wild gnomes scamper across the path and into a large stretch of forest, until the last one stopped in front of them.
It was wild looking, even for a gnome. Its dark grey beard hanging close to its knees, its weathered overalls hanging together with patches and faded pieces of denim. All of this accentuated by its wild eyes that despite being pointed in two different directions seemed to be locked on the both of them.
“Shmebulock.” It gestured toward them before beginning down the path, seemingly abandoning its pack to forge its own. Tate and Tyler looked at each other for a second, just as the creature paused and looked back at them. “Shmebulock.” It sounded much more sure of itself this time, gesturing once more to them in a ‘Comere’ fashion.
Tate didn't like it, even if the thing wasn't human his mother had always told him not to follow strangers.
Unfortunately it appeared that Tyler's mother had forgotten that lesson, a fact that became apparent as the boy found himself scrambling after his new friend, deeper into the forest than he had ever planned on going.
The light greens and sunlight of the edge of the forest seemed to give away as they neared the very heart of the timberland. Or maybe it was the waning sunlight, which shouldn't be anywhere near now. If anything it should be high noon, but it appeared that the sun didn't take into account the thoughts of a boy in the forest.
The road was long, not that either of the boys felt too much strain during it. The gnome seemed sure of itself and despite what was more than likely over a mile of wandering over roots and bushes, they both seemed to not tire.
Eventually they both found themselves in what appeared to be a small collection of mushroom houses, well mushrooms and small homes tucked in ancient trees and stumps, the majority of the houses were around the same height as Tate.
The whole area was swarming with gnomes, one or two of them paused to look up at the new strangers but always looked away a moment later when they noticed the gnome that was leading them. The creature continued leading them through the small paths that the gnomes had trekked for themselves, past all the houses and farther away from the gnome-town itself, closer to what would be considered the treeline.
Over there was one more tree house, one that seemed more worn than the others, but no less loved. The same soft orange light that emitted from the other houses emitted from this one as well, and it was clearly packed with what both the boys assumed was books and furniture, just like any other gnome.
The whole sight was rather sad to Tate, but before he could think on it too hard, the old creature opened the door to what he now understood to be his house, and they could both hear shuffling from within.
The pair took a moment to sit down near the house, taking a moment to look out on the small town they’d found themselves in.
It honestly wasn't too different from Gravity falls, even from the distance they found themselves from the rest of the town it was easy to see all the work stalls selling wears from large berries, squirrels, and what appeared to be some more shady business weather that be jars of butterflies or strange pouches that were passed in back alleys. To a normal gnome most of this would have gone unnoticed, but from Tate and Tyler, it was all so obvious to both of them, even as they sat down.
Before they were able to really think about it, Shmebulock came back out with one of the many books that crowded his house. Passing it Tyler before looking at them with his bug eyes.
Tyler looked down at the book for a moment, before looking over at Tate. The boy eyed his friend's backpack before passing the book to him.
Tate took the book, taking off his backpack to pull out a flashlight. The tree coverage here was crazy! The torch clicked to life as Tate looked down at the book with knitted eyebrows.
It was a pretty inconspicuous book, black leather, plain. Or it would have been, if not for the large eye painted in bright red… well he hoped it was paint.
The eye itself wasn't the strange bit, it was the fact that it was crossed out with the same red paint.
“I think I’ve seen that symbol around town.” Tyler spoke in a hushed voice like they were sharing a secret. “Mama doesn't want me to look at them too long.”
“What would he want with these guys?” Tate grit his teeth as he glared down at the book. The gnome scampered off back to his house seemingly not caring enough about the book to ask for it back. Tate watched him go before looking back at the rest of the town.
The boy kept the flashlight in his hand as he began to slip off his backpack again. Tyler gave the book one more glance before looking back at the small gnome town.
“We should head back.” Tate nodded, from what he could tell, he had what he needed from here.
“Yeah, let's go.” The boys straightened up, before freezing.
At some point, the gnome had taken them off the “human” path and into a much more infinitesimal “gnome” path. One that was much smaller and easier to lose than the one that they had been expecting to follow.
Despite this, Tate pointed his flashlight toward the path and hoped that they would be able to stick to it.
Turns out, it was a lot harder to stick to a path when you can hardly see it, and Tyler hadn't been out at night alone for as long as he could remember, and when he was out with his mother it was never in the forest.
The shadows of the trees only stretched farther into the night, even with his flashlight the darkness seemed to cut through it and warp it, to the point where the next time Tyler looked down at the path he’d been sure he was following, all he saw was short grass and a small collection of mushrooms.
Tate stumbled back, almost knocking over Tyler who looked just as bewildered as Tate felt. The flashlight continued flickering as they attempted to look around, before burning out completely.
“Hey Tyler, did you happen to tell your mom where you were going?” Tate asked shakily, trembling as he moved to put the flashlight into his backpack.
“N-not really…” Tyler trailed off slightly, “mom never wants me going into the forest, tells me bad things happen to whoever goes out here.” Okay, not what you wanna hear when lost in the forest. Tate thought to himself as they continued down… whatever direction they were going. Between the sun having long since gone down and the thick leaves of trees blocking his vision, Tate was having a hard time trying to figure out which way was north.
He hadn't been planning on staying in the forest overnight, but the last thing either of them needed to do was to wander around and get even more lost.
Tate grit his teeth. He was a McGucket, the son of a first generation university graduate. His dad had beat a pig with his bare hands and used the stars to navigate when they’d gotten lost during one of their camping trips. He had gotten Tyler into this situation, it was up to him to get his friend out of it.
“Okay, we can't freak out right now.” Tate hoped he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. “Lets find a clearing in the trees, if I can find the north star, I can figure out which way we need to go to get out of here.” His dad had shown him this trick forever ago, he’d always told him that if he was lost, he just had to go north until he reached a road. From there it was something about either finding a map or hitchhiking until he got his bearings, but at this point, anything was better than being lost in an enchanted forest.
He held his hand out, and felt Tyler grab it, his palms were cold and clammy as Tate locked his eyes up on the tree overhang, eyes wide for even a moment of light above them.
Unfortunately it seemed that the forest wasn't keen on clearing out the overbrush, leaving them still wandering around the forest to who knows where. With sticks reaching for their clothes and roots appearing under their feet. It wasn't exactly the best situation to be in, but it was better than standing there waiting for something to pop out of the trees and kill them.
As they walked, a sound echoed in the distance, strings on well trained hands, a melodic tune that told of a warm fire and adventures far from here, a banjo. Not unlike his fathers own. The music rattled in his bones, relief washing over him as he began walking toward the sound.
“Tate- what's that noise?”
“That would be a banjo!” Tate spoke with a wide smile. “My da- I mean that blonde guy knows how to play one. We should be close to someone right now.”
“These forests are very strange- I think we should keep looking for the stars.” Tate paused his following of the banjo, looking over at Tyler. “Even if we find them, there's no way for us to know if they’re good people.”
“I know that they get a bad rep, but hillbillies are actually usually good people if you don't steal from them.” Tate looked over at the treeline, he could see fire lights not too far from him, they weren't too far now! “Besides we’re lost in the forest, even if they aren't good people, knowing what path they took to get out here would be good enough for us to get out of here ourselves.”
Tyler looked like he wanted to argue- or Tate assumed he wanted to argue considering the fact that he didn't follow him when he began pulling him toward the fire, but after one more pointed tug, he began following in line.
The bluegrass music didn't sound like any songs that Tate knew off the top of his head, but it was still something familiar in a place that felt so cold and isolated. The smell of beans and sound of crackling from the fire was enough to nearly send him running in that direction. He almost felt like he was running toward his grandma and grandpa after scraping his knee on his tricycle.
After what felt like forever of tripping over loose roots and rocks, Tate could begin to make out whoever was sitting in front of the fire.
He was much skinnier than his grandparents-his skin looked like it was pressed against bone rather than muscle or anything else. He wasn't wearing any shoes- or a shirt, all he seemed to be wearing was a pair of overalls and a ratty old hat that looked like it belonged forgotten in a closet rather than still on his head.
“Excuse me?” Tate did his best to make as much noise as he could as he made his way up to the man. “I was wondering if you could help us?”
The man grunted, not turning to look at them, his eyes remaining locked on the fire.
“We got lost out here- do you know a way out?” It was possible that the man in front of him was also lost, there was no telling how long he’d been in this forest if that was true.It would explain the state of the man's hat and general cleanliness which was abysmal even for a hillbilly.
The banjo music, which had remained for the duration of this very one sided conversation- cut out.
The man put down his banjo which Tate now realized was in a state of distress that would bring his father to tears (if he could go without using his own banjo as a weapon for more than two months) Tate turned away from it long enough to look at the man he’d walked up to- just as Tyler screamed behind him.
The man didn't have a face, just a featureless blob of darkness against the endless treeline. The only sign of any features was glowing eyes looking back at him through a voided shape formed to look like the silhouette of a face and beard, a wide grin beginning to spread across his face- and then continuing.
He was moving- Tyler pulling him from behind. He was running with him, jumping over roots and rocks, tripping only a moment before catching himself and running at pace with his friend.
The thing was grunting behind them, a giddy chuckle reverberating among the trees as they continued running. This wasn't what he wanted, he was supposed to be helping Tyler get out of here- not getting them killed by the one thing in this forest that had made him feel safe!
One second they were on the floor, feet flying over the ground- the next they were shooting through the air, veering suddenly to the left.
They were behind a tree, however it looked like they weren't the only ones that registered the sudden change in movement, moving to follow them.
Tate wasn't about to let this chance go to waste as he moved to get back to his feet- but he couldn't get up.
“Stay down!” it wasn't a tree.
Somehow, it was like the campfire had moved, now that Tate was looking, he could see the familiar curly hair and red jacket of Mr. Pines standing above them. He moved to sit up again.
“I SAID STAY DOWN!” He stopped moving. Tyler also seemed compliant as they both watched Stan move through the forest like a fish through water- meeting the Hillbilly halfway.
“Oh thank god it's you- I have some frustration I need to get all out.” Even in the low firelight Tate could see a smile spreading across Mr. Pine’s face. “I honestly thought better of him, but his recent behavior is ridiculous so…” The man shoved his hands into his pockets, they came out glimmering like metal.
There was a sharp crack, a scuffle, but at this point they had moved away from the fire that had been following them somehow, the fight shrouded in darkness as Tate listened for one or the other to get up and get moving.
He still couldn't move, not that he knew why. He was certain that his clothes weren't caught on the floor and even if it was he was more than capable of getting himself back up and moving no matter how tangled he was in the grass.
As fast as the sensation had fallen over him- it disappeared in a whirlwind of air underneath him- and suddenly he was being held at the stomach under Mr. Pine’s arm- shooting through the forest at a speed Tate had never gone at.
He could still hear that- thing behind them, but before it started closing in, the treeline began to thin. It felt like forever, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes of running before Mr. Pines ended up back on the path that they’d lost.
With the path clear ahead, Stan shot though the forest like he’d had a fire caught beneath him, if he had been fast a moment ago, this was some kind of super-speed that left Tate squinting his eyes against the wind, he couldn't even see the adults legs as they moved under them, but he understood that he had to be moving them in order for them to be moving right now.
They broke through the treeline- and so did the Hillbilly- Stan shot through the town like a bat out of hell. Tate couldn't see the signs with how fast they were going but the town was clearly in view.
They were well out of the forest!
it wasn't as relieving as it should have been.
Stanley made a beeline in one direction suddenly, bright store lights illuminating the ground beneath them for a moment- and then a door was slammed behind them.
The ambiance of the Gravity Falls night disappeared behind a wall of muffled pop music, buzzing overhead lights, and the gentle hum of a refrigerator nearby.
Someone walked in front of them quite suddenly, before walking around them to poke their head out the door- and they were moving again.
Tate could hear a woman screaming through the door as Mr. Pines took both of them to a corner of, what he now recognised as, Dusk 2 Dawn.
“What happened?” It wasn't spoken in an accusatory manner, but Tate knew how these usually went, he’d gotten into enough trouble in California to know that he was deep in the doghouse tonight, a glance in Tyler's direction revealed much the same revelation.
“You’re not in trouble- I just need to know what to tell Sixer and Banjo.” Tate blinked at him with wide eyes. “And your mama too kiddo- what do we tell them?”
“I don't think it's a good idea to lie to adults…” Tyler spoke slowly staring at Mr. Pines with a quizzical look like he suddenly didn't know what to make of him.
“Well it's either that or we tell them that you two got in a fight with a Kill Billy.” Stanley spoke with a shrug.
“A what?” Tate's eyes lost any sign of fatigue suddenly, looking at Mr. Pines as the man began straightening out their clothes.
“Kill Billys, nasty things that drink blood and steal overalls, not that I know what Stanford was doing with a pair when he met them.” Stanley seemed content with the kids' clothes now that they were straightened out. Standing up and beginning to lead them through the convenience store. “Normal hillbillies are fine, they’re much nicer than they look at a glance, Sixer didn't go into their origins, but from what I can tell they’re one of the worst things you can run into in the forest.”
Tate felt his stomach drop, he’d put Tyler in danger without even knowing it.
“Your best bet with them would be this place.” Mr. Pines sat in front of one of the fridges and took out a bottle of water. “No shoes, no shirt, no service.” As he finished the old lady that had gone out there came back in, holding a broom that Tate hadn't realized she’d brought out with her.
“What a rude man, scaring these poor dears.” She looked at the kids with pity, “he chased your brother out here too you know Stan.”
“Yeah, I heard as much.” Stanley rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his mullet and pulling out the stray sticks and leaves that had ended up in there at some point. “Sorry about your hat, kid.” Tate felt his stomach drop farther as he looked at Tyler- but he was still wearing his hat.
His hand shot up to his head, his heart shattering when all it met was his own hair covered in leaves and grass. It must have fallen off during their mad dash to the store.
Which meant if he wanted it back, he’d need to go through that forest again.
“I can get you a new one, but I’ll need you to tell me a thing or two.” Stanley was standing in front of a tall wrack of hats, before pulling one out and dropping it on Tate's head, “deal?”
The hat fell over his eyes for a moment before Tate took it off to look at it. It was similar to his old hat in color, but it was missing the grape juice stain on the top and the sun bleached line on the rim. Beyond that it had a small smiling fish on the front of it. Oh well, he couldn't go without a hat. He looked up at Mr. Pines and nodded.
The man led the two of them to a small booth with a window at the end of it, having them sit down before heading up to the counter.
Tate shuffled up on the cold wooden booth, Tyler taking the other booth adjacent to him. He glanced at the window only once, keeping an eye out for… that thing, but also appreciating the way the town looked at night.
Most of the store lights were out, leaving only street lights lining the sidewalks and road. He hadn't ever been out this late so far from home. If his mom knew what had happened she’d come up here herself, chew dad out, and then take him home without another word. He’d never see Tyler again, if he even still wanted to see him after tonight, and he’d never figure out what was going on with his father.
Tate's heart leapt into his chest, his arm going up to his shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt his backpack still snugly in its place.
Mr. Pines came back with pizza and three cups of soda in a holder. Setting down three plates and setting the soda on the table in front of them before sliding in next to Tate.
“So, one wild night ei?” The kids didn't say anything to that, “might wanna read up on Stanford’s books before trying that again kids, could have gotten yourselves hurt.” He grabbed himself a slice of pizza, using a triangle shaped spatula to put some on the kids plates as well. “Eat.”
Tate looked at the floor, then the pizza, before taking it and beginning to nibble on it.
Tyler looked at his own slice, before quickly scarfing it down and reaching for another one, if nothing else he seemed to have perked up a lot faster than Tate.
“So- kid, see a lotta weird things in this town?” Stanley looked over at Tyler who gave him a curt nod.
“Yeah, I once saw a gnome stealing pie, and then there's that big monster you saved me from.” He shrugged like tonight was any other night, "can't live in Gravity Falls and not expect something weird to happen.”
“The Gremloblin?” Stanley finished his slice of pizza just as Tate finally took a genuine bite of his own pizza. “Yeah, that was a big one.”
“It was much scarier than that- what did you call it?- that Kill Billy.” He glanced at Tate with a hopeful look. “They don't usually come out of the forest though, and the moving fire was new too!”
“A Scampfire.” Stanley told them. “Now, what do you think of staying at our house for the night?”
Tyler looked winded at the thought.
“I don't want your mom to know you were out playing pin the tail on the donkey with some guy in the woods.” Stanley glared at the window like the Kill Billy would show up, “I’ll tell her that you two got to talking and ended up falling asleep at our house. Should be able to avoid a bit of trouble.”
“What about…” Tate trailed off, looking over at Tyler and Stanley, suddenly remembering his lie earlier.
“Meh, only one getting in trouble with Stanford is me, I’ll talk to Fidds, it'll be fine.” He patted Tate on the back. Tate let out a sigh as he took a second slice of pizza.
His mouth had been numb with the first slice, nerves he guessed, he can actually taste the second slice. It had way too much cheese, but the pepperoni offset the almost overwhelming flavor with a hit of spice that he didn't normally enjoy on his pizzas. It seemed like it would be growing on him tonight.
The rest of their visit to the Dusk 2 Dawn consisted of Tyler and Tate regaling Stanley with their story, and Stanley sharing some of his own from his time on “Glass Shard Beach.” Apparently it was where he grew up.
Eventually, they both piled into Stanley’s red car that Tate hadn't realized was parked outside the store.
The drive back to the house was silent aside from the radio and the wind blasting through the open windows, the roof above them shifting slightly with each gust.
The house looked the same it always did around this time, bright yellow light spilling out through the windows with strange shapes etched into them.
Mr Pines led them through the yard and into the house, a hand on their backs in a pacifying manner, opening the door and leading both of them inside.
The house welcomed them with a warm gust of wind and a sturdy closed door.
“Sixer- I need to borrow the phone.” Stanley called out to the house as the boys took seats on the old couch in the living room.
“You know where it is Stanley.” Someone called out from inside the house, “why were you out so long?” The other Mr. Pines appeared through a door in the kitchen, looking like he’d somehow run himself ragged.
“Ran into some less than kind people while getting these two out of trouble.” Stanley spoke as he threw a blanket over the kids. “I’m calling this one's mom, as soon as he gives me her number.” He passed the kid a pen and paper that had been sitting on the coffee table.
Tyler took it, scribbling on the paper for a moment before handing it to Stanley who moved to the phone.
Tyler's mom was relieved to hear from her boy, allowing a sleepover under the condition that he comes home early in the morning seeing as how he’d somehow fallen asleep to scary movies and would likely be having nightmares for a while. Tate looked back at his friend who clearly wasn't happy with the idea of lying to his mother, but he also didn't stop Stanley from lying to her either.
Eventually they’re both led back to the attic, with Tyler and Tate curling up in the same bed. Stanley had offered Tyler a sleeping bag, but the idea of being alone at any moment tonight seemed to scare both of them away from it.
Stanley sighed as he gently closed the door to the attic and made his way down the stairs, where Stanford was standing there, waiting for him.
“Stanley…”
“Basement.”
“Last time we talked in the basement you got branded.” Stanley rolled his eyes.
“Basement or nothing Sixer.” Stanley was moving to the elevator already, with Stanford following him close behind. Fiddleford was probably in his room, doing whatever it was that caused his eyes to go all foggy, and honestly Stanley was finding it harder and harder to care about what that man did.
The elevator doors opened with a gentle hiss as the twins found themselves in front of the bones of the portal, long since dismantled, many of the parts already being repurposed by Stanford and Fiddleford for whatever it was they needed to build.
“Why were you out so long?” Stanford sat down in an office chair that was sat in front of a control deck, Stanley rolled his eyes and settled for leaning against a concrete pillar that was holding the place up.
“Gee mom, didn't know I had a curfew at the ripe young age of twenty eight.” He rolled his eyes.
“Its not a matter of curfew Stanley and you know it.” Stanford pressed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “What if something had happened to you?”
“I’d prefer myself get hurt over two kids Sixer.“ Honestly he thought that much was obvious.
“Yeah, that's it, I’ll talk to Fiddleford about taking better care of his kid.”
“He won't."
“What?”
Silence sat between them for a moment, two brothers staring each other down until Stanley spoke up again.
“Look, I know he’s not beating them or nothing.” Stanley said, refusing to look at Stanford, “but what kind of dad lets his kid run out the door without telling him where he was going? I wouldn't do that, you don't want kids and I’m sure as hell you still wouldn't do that.” They had gotten into a ton of trouble as kids, but Tate wasn't even twelve yet, twelve was when he’d start letting the kid go out more freely.
“He needs to figure it out himself, Stanley.” Stanford leaned forward, folding his fingers together in front of him.
“He should have thought about that before having a kid.” Stanley folded his arms over his chest, “now there's a kid involved, and I’m not about to let him get hurt here.”
“At the risk of your own safety?”
“Of course.”
Stanford froze.
“... What did you fight today?” He felt his arms going numb, cracking his knuckles in an attempt to ground himself.
“The kid got scared, probably thought that the guy at the scampfire was a regular Hillbilly.” Stanley spoke with a note of silence. He’d been helped hundreds of times by good people that others would call hillbillies. The whole reason he’d covered for Tyler was because he knew he would have done the same thing.
“What was that kid even doing out there?” Stanford sounded exasperated, but it was clear to Stanley that he wasn't expecting an answer, simply getting frustrated and expressing it in his own special way.
Stanley still shrugged.
“Would it be okay if I lent them your journal? Might help him recognise danger out there.” He kept his eyes on Ford’s hands. He could square his shoulders all he wanted, could tense his legs and take as many deep breaths as he wanted, Stanley saw it all and was certain of his ability if Stanford turned this newfound anger anywhere else but this basement.
“It would be for the best.” They were just kids, and they would be living in Gravity falls no matter what became of the lab. ”As long as they don't go treating it like their own diary.”
“I’m pretty sure that's not gonna be an issue.” He didn't know much about the future of the journals, that area had become warped at some point, but he was relatively certain that the books would not be written in by Tate or Tyler. “Worse comes to worse we get them their own journals.”
Stanford took in one more breath.
“You’re sure that I can't convince you not to put yourself in mortal danger for those kids?” It was selfish, but the only reason Stanford was here in the first place was because of his selfishness, the only reason Stanley was here talking to him was because of his own begotten self importance. Stanley just gave him a knowing smile.
“Someones gotta watch out for those kids, besides,” he stood up away from the pillar, “we’re Pines remember? The last thing that's gonna take either of us down is a bunch of creepy crawlys.” Stanford rolled his eyes, they’d been crushing bugs when Stanley had come up with that line for their moniker. “These monsters don't know how we do things.”
“Cant do it better than we did it in Jersey." Stanford stood up from his chair, he was still worried, but he had a tight enough leash on Stanley as it was, letting him run wild for an extended period of time before they were too old to run in the first place didn't sound so bad. “Just be careful.”
“I will be Sixer.” To his credit, Stanley sounded sincere enough. Stanford patted his brother on the shoulder, it would have to be enough.
The twins stepped out of the elevator, Stanford heading in the direction of his room while Stanley settled down on the couch. He kept it on the same channel, he wasn't paying attention anyway, just letting the events of the day roll around in his head. His arms and legs felt like they were going to jump off his torso and start scrambling around the house. The fatigue that he should have been feeling eluded him.
A couple hours after the house had settled, Stanley heard the door to the attic open. The man turned around on the couch to watch as Tate trudged down the steps and into the main room, looking at Stanley with tired eyes and a blanket over his shoulders.
“Cant sleep?” The kid shook his head.
Stanley gave him a pitying look before patting the spot next to him on the couch. Tate shuffled over, eyes locked on the floor as he sat down on the couch, eyes raising to lock on the television as some random show continued playing on the screen. There were no words exchanged between the two as they sat together, it was painfully obvious what had occurred on a night like this. The kid had a nightmare, what could you do other than sit there and be a comforting presence?
The man wrapped an arm around the kid in what he hoped was a calming gesture, eyes shifting over to him to gauge his expression. No sign of discomfort, if anything Tate just curled up next to him, his head landing on Stanley’s stomach as his eyes remained locked on the TV.
The entire scene carried on like that for a while, neither exchanging words, hardly even looking at each other, just basking in the presence of someone else with the general consensus of feeling safe, and feeling wanted.
It was a change for Stanley, and a welcome one at that.
“Stanley, could I have a moment of your time?” The man in question nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling around to look at Fiddleford who had appeared behind them. The man made no move to acknowledge his son, he just stood there, looking at Stanley. Or he thought he was looking at him, it was hard to tell with the light from the television glaring in his glasses like that.
“What kinda questions do you wanna ask?” Stanley did his best to sound casual, but Fiddleford was kinda creeping him out. The man's sunny demeanor had been degrading for a while now to nearly nothing, and it was getting harder to spend time with the man without feeling like he was getting dissected.
“Nothing I haven't asked before.” His face morphed into what was probably supposed to look like a kind smile, but the pale sheen the man’s skin had taken during his self imposed quarantine made him look like something dangerous.
Stanley felt like he was sick again, looking at his brother with new eyes. Fiddleford didn't look as dangerous, but he was a far cry from the man that had shaken his hand on that snowy winter's day. The psychic looked between Fiddleford and Tate for a moment, the kid was giving him a desperate look, like he didn't want Stanley to go with him.
The man just patted the kid on the head. He may not know everything about Fiddleford, and he was definitely acting strange but he still couldn't imagine him hurting him.
With that in mind, Stanley told Tate to go to bed, before following Fiddleford toward his room.