The Mysterious Origin of the Mister Pines'

This is a fic based off of @jackyjackdraws Mystery husbands Au, WITH A TWIST! Intead of meeting Stan in his older years, Kevin grew up with Stan and Ford in Glass Shard beach. I loved the premise, but I had one question: What would happen if what happened, happened? And here we have my own answer to that question. I hope you enjoy!

(also on Ao3!)

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The last of the winter snow crunched softly as a single car parked itself in the middle of the woods. The strong oak trees towered high above, as through holding up the sky itself. There was a beat before Kevin Griffth stepped out of his car and into the first day of spring in Oregon. The smell of real trees was a breath of fresh air compared to the artificial air freshener in his car. 

He took a look around, the woods were thick and seemingly never ending. Kevin turned his gaze back down the dirt road, the nearest building was a mile back. A cool wind blew through the trees, and Kevin pulled his coat tighter over himself. His eyes wandered back to the wooden shack, it had a satellite dish pointing out of the roof, a radio tower and other weird tech stuff poking out of it.

“Looks like somewhere Ford would hole up,” Kevin smirked. He leaned against his car, trying his best to ignore the twist forming in this stomach. 

He took another deep breath before walking over to the mesh door and giving a firm knock that sound echoed through the house. 

After a few moments, a man stepped out of the front door. His hair was short and brown, his jaw was strong and squared off nicely. He wore black suit and a matching pair of six-fingered gloves. A pair of square glasses sat on his large nose completing his look. Kevin gulped, that was definitely Stanford Pines.

“Listen, I don't need any more life insurance funds. So take your forms—” Stanford’s voice was gravelly and stern. The minute his eyes fell on Kevin his deep frown lifted into a smile. “Kevin?”

“In the flesh.” Kevin scratched the back of his neck. 

“How have you been?” Stanford approached Kevin with a wide smile.

“How have I been? Stanford, how are you, lad?” Kevin asked, concerned that the grief had driven Stanford into denial.  

“Me? I’m peachy. Feelin’ like a million bucks.” Stanford waved his hand.

“Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I get to see one of my best friends for the first time in who knows how long.”

“I know you probably don’t want me to feel bad, Stanford. Like you said, we haven’t seen each other for a while. So I understand if you forgot to invite me but you don’t need to pretend that your brother’s funeral wasn’t last week.” Kevin said calmly. He placed a hand on Stanford’s shoulder, offering an understanding smile.

Stanford looked like a deer in headlights. Kevin remembered that look in Stanley’s eyes when he was reminded about homework he missed. He stared at Kevin for a moment before his smile returned. It was much wider than before, unnaturally so.

“Yeah, that was…sad, but you know Stan. He wouldn't want me too mopey about him croaking,” Stanford said nonchalantly.

“Are you kidding me, lad? Your own brother died, and you don’t even feel sad?” Kevin stared in disbelief. 

“Of course I’m sad, but it’s not like I can do anything about him being dead.”

“But, he’s your brother, your twin…my—how can you move on so quickly? Don’t you feel anything? Were you that upset after what happened?” Kevin’s voice hitched. He couldn’t believe that this was really the same bookworm he had known in his youth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stanford narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know what happened the night that Stan disappeared, but it’s been ten years. I know a grudge can be hard to let go of, but for goodness sake lad, he’s your brother,” Kevin pleaded.

“Why do you care?” Stanford’s smile fell, his brow furrowed. “The bastard was a swindling grifter. He got what he deserved. The world is better off without him. Now that he’s gone I can finally get my work done without anything getting in my way.” Stanford stared at his gloved hands, closing them into tight fists.

Kevin’s jaw dropped.

This was far from what he had imagined would happen on the drive over. He had hoped to console a grieving friend and reconnect, or in the worst case, be told that he wasn’t invited on purpose. However, the words that left Stanford’s lips struck Kevin’s heart like a series of knives. One after the other, Kevin’s stomach began to twist tighter. He wanted nothing more than to go home and leave this mess behind him. Go to sleep and wake up ignorant to the loss he’d suffered.

But that loss was why he came here. He was hoping to find out more, perhaps be given the opportunity to grieve. Instead all he found was desecration. 

“I loved him,” Kevin said quietly. 

“What?” Stanford raised an eyebrow.

Kevin felt the pain in his heart spread throughout his chest. This warmth wasn’t the same as earlier. The weight of a week's worth of pent up emotions caught up with him and he glared at the man before him. His nails dug into the palms of his hands as warm tears began to prick the corners of his eyes.

“Don’t act surprised, Stanford,” Kevin spat. “You were there when he and I agreed to be boyfriends. You agreed to help us keep it a secret from your parents.”

“That—”

“Those were some of my happiest days.” Kevin didn’t bother to hold back the hot tears as they fell down his cheeks. “We spent so much time together, running through the beach, studying for our exams, getting milkshakes. He wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes, but damn it all he tried his best.”

“Kevin—” Stanford stepped forward, arm outstretched. 

“I don’t wanna hear another word from you!” Kevin could hardly breathe, his chest felt tight as he struggled to speak between sobs. He pushed Stanford away. “I drove here from Jersey. I spent a week hopping from motel to motel, driving non-stop. Just hoping, praying to catch the tiniest reminder of my best friends. I don’t know what happened that night after the science fair, but whatever it was doesn’t justify treating your brother like this.”

“I—”

“You’re not the man I thought you were. You’re not the friend I once had!” Kevin jabbed his finger into Stanford’s chest. “I didn’t even know that Stan had died until your mother returned from the funeral still crying her eyes out. My own Ma spent a week comforting her. Did you know that? My own Ma found out about my ex-boyfriend being dead before I did.”

Kevin took a shaky breath trying to compose himself. He stepped away from Stanford. His face long with a forlorn frown. “Maybe I should have taken that as a sign that you had changed. I was hopeful. I wanted to think that you had just forgotten. Turns out I was wrong! You’ve just become the same bitter bastard that your father was.”

Stanford stepped back, his eyes wide with horror. He blinked a few times, and Kevin could not tell if it was a trick of the light, but he thought he saw tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. Part of him wanted to apologize, wrap his arms around his old friend and forgive the past; but his chest still burned with anger and was tight from sadness. Stanford had crossed a line, and he deserved to feel bad.

“So what have you got to say now Stanford?” Kevin asked after a beat, cheeks flushed red.

“I thought you moved on,” Stanford said quietly. 

“What?”

Stanford breathed sharply, he stared at Kevin with a pained gaze.

Kevin watched as Stanford opened and closed his mouth multiple times before staring at his feet. There was a moment of silence as the trees rustled in the wind.

“What do you mean that you thought I moved on, Stanford?” Kevin insisted. He leaned closer, to get a better look at Stanford’s face.

“Just go home Kevin,” Stanford said slowly. He was unwilling to raise his gaze to meet Kevin’s. “Please.” “I spent a week of non-stop driving to get here. I’m not being sent home until I get what I want.” 

“What do you want? Money? The death certificate? Do you want me to dig up the cadaver so you can see the empty casket?” Stanford stepped forward, pushing himself into Kevin’s face.

“Empty—”

“Damn it.” Stanford turned away.

“What’s going on here, Stanford?”

“Please, just go away,” Stanford begged in a weak voice. He raised his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Without his glasses in the way, Kevin could clearly see that Stanford had begun to cry.

“So you really did care.”

“Of course I fucking cared. I never stopped caring. But I made one mistake and then I lost everything. Then when I got a second chance, I screwed up and lost it all over again,” Stanford cried. 

As he spoke, something clicked in Kevin’s mind. He took a moment to observe Stanford’s gloved hand as it reached to wipe away his tears. The second pinky was much stiffer than the others. It hardly moved when Stanford reached for his eyes. Almost as though the sixth finger in that glove wasn’t being filled properly.

“No.” Kevin shook his head, placing his hand over his mouth. His heart fluttered with hope. “You can’t be… Stanley?”

“Is this some big joke?” Stanford scowled at Kevin. He raised a gloved hand at his face. “Did you spend so long on the road that you forgot how to count?” Kevin’s heart beat loudly as his hand reached out for Stanford’s, his throat felt dry as he felt the fabric of the glove against his palm. ‘Stanford’ was taken aback, but before he could pull away, Kevin gave a gentle squeeze of his hand. All but one finger felt soft under the fabric. The last felt hard, like a pen had been forced into the glove. 

“You really are Stanley aren’t you, lad?” Kevin said slowly. A wave of confusion, relief and excitement washed over him. 

“Kevin, please don’t stick around. I…I’ve already fucked up with Ford. I can’t lose you too.” Stanley fell to his knees, tears running down his cheeks.

“Not again.” Kevin wrapped his arms around Stanley. “I lost you once without explanation. I’m not letting that happen again.”

“But…”

“Stanley, I came all the way out here for you. I chose to do that. No matter what you did, I’ll forgive you. Just…please tell me what's going on.” Kevin pressed his forehead against Stanley’s.

Kevin felt Stanley wrap his arms around him and lean into the embrace. He heard his old friend let out a heavy sob and heave, trying to breathe as the weight of years of abandonment caught up to him, afraid that this tiny moment of comfort would be torn from him just like his brother was. He tightened his hold, silently praying that if this was some sick dream that he could stay asleep. Soon Stan was pressing his face into Kevin’s shoulder, sobbing loudly not caring about his facade anymore.

“You’ve been through a lot since we last saw one another, haven't you?” Kevin spoke calmly. He rubbed large circles into Stanley’s back. 

It was several minutes before Stanley was able to compose himself. He was out of breath, red in the face, but slowly, gingerly he picked himself up. He pulled off his gloves and pocketed them, revealing his five-fingered hands. Wordlessly he took Kevin’s hand in his own and led him into the shack. The pair walked past several rooms before arriving in the kitchen.

Kevin followed along, taking a seat at the kitchen table and watched as Stanley cluttered through the drawers and cupboards. Leaving Stanley to his own devices, Kevin took in his surroundings.

The kitchen itself was rather clean, a couple of plates sat in the sink waiting to be washed and the table had a few aged stains in strange colours. Before he could dare to touch a bright green stain that was shaped like a human ear, a mug of hot chocolate was placed in front of Kevin. 

Kevin looked up and saw Stanley sitting opposite him. Nursing a matching mug. Stanley’s eyes didn’t rise from his mug. Kevin could see that he was deep in thought and gave him a moment to gather himself.

“I didn’t have anything fancy… but I remembered how your Ma would make hot cocoa when I used to spend the night,” Stanley said quietly.

Reaching out slowly, Kevin took the mug into his hands. It was warm. 

Kevin took a sip and felt a wave of nostalgia crash into him like a truck. It tasted sweet, it was creamy, and felt like he had been sent back to those old days where things were simpler. It wasn’t perfect, but Stanley had never perfected the recipe no matter how much he insisted that he had. 

Kevin raised his gaze to see Stanley staring at his own mug, twiddling his thumbs.

“It’s delicious.” Kevin said.

Stanley didn’t respond.

“Stanley. Please talk to me.” Kevin reached out, placing his hand in Stanley’s.

Stanley flinched. He fearfully raised his gaze to meet Kevin's before dropping it once again in shame.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Stanley admitted.

“Can we start with the beginning?”

“Oh boy. That’s a can of worms.” Stanley sighed.

“We have an entire factory of cans waiting to be opened, might as well start somewhere.” 

“Remember that science fair that Stanford was all excited for?” Stanley fearfully looked up at Kevin.

“Yes, I recall.”

“Well turns out he did such a wiz-bang job that some fancy Schmancy college wanted to give him a scholarship and all that. It all woulda been perfect, if someone hadn’t fucked everything up.” Stanley sighed deeply. “Long story short, Ford’s project was totaled. His scholarship chance was canned and everyone was pissed. Pops was sick of me, and that was the straw that broke his back. He threw me my old gym bag and told me to get lost.”

“Wait…is that why you disappeared?” Kevin covered his mouth.

“Pops said I wasn't welcome back until I made back the money I lost the family. So I…left.” Stanley placed his face in his hands.

“Stanley, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” Kevin reached out a hand for Stan’s shoulder. “But you know you would have had a place with me and my Ma right?”

“I thought about it when I was halfway over the border, but I wanted to stick it to my old man. I wanted to show him that I wasn't some freeloader and that I could make it on my own.”

“Oh Stanley.” Kevin muttered.

“And that’s just the beginning.” Stanley blew out a breath. “A month ago, I got a letter from Ford sayin’ he needs help,and I thought ‘hey, it’s been ten years maybe he’s over everything.’” Stanley paused and then sighed, “This next part would be easier if I just showed you,” Stanley said with a sigh.

He pushed himself up from the table. His mug of hot chocolate sat untouched as he walked out of the room, beckoning Kevin to follow. Kevin found himself led through a door to a wide open room. There were some tacky postcards, hastily made novelty T-shirts and some crudely designed key chains that hung from some old wooden shelves.

“Is this a gift shop?” Kevin asked. He turned to find Stanley fiddling with a heavy metal door.

“I’ll…I’ll get to that, for now you’re gonna wanna follow me ‘cause trust me, it’s a lot to take in.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and held the door open for Kevin.

Kevin eyed the dark hallway behind the door. “Stanley, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t know.” Stanley sounded tired. 

Kevin watched Stanley disappear into the hallway. He waited a couple of moments before following after him. 

As they descended, Stanley regaled the tail of his life on the road. The crimes he commited, the many names he took. As they entered the elevator to the basement, Stanley began to talk of his arrival to Gravity Falls. The confrontation with his brother. The revelation of the portal. Of their argument, the painful branding and the abrupt disappearance of Stanford through the bright light of the portal. 

When Stanley finished talking, the pair were standing before the giant triangular portal in the basement. 

Kevin stared in awe. The portal towered over him, reaching several feet to the ceiling above. The basement itself was cold and unwelcoming, a shiver ran down his spine as he looked around the room. The ground was strewn with cut wires, loose tools and screws. Kevin could tell that Stanley had spent countless hours trying to get this terrifying machine started. It felt surreal, his mind raced with so many thoughts.

“This is all so much.” Kevin said slowly.

“I…I wish you didn’t have to see me like this.” Stanley said glumly. 

There was a beat. Kevin stared at his reflection in the metal portal frame. Behind him he could see Stanley staring at his own hands. While his mind felt like a tangled mess of fairy lights, Kevin knew one thing, he had come here to comfort and reconnect with a Pines twin after ten years. He took a deep breath before turning to face Stanley.

“You’re stubborn as you’ve ever been, aren’t you lad?” Kevin sighed. He slowly walked towards Stanley.

“Too stubborn for anyone’s good.”

“You made some big mistakes,” Kevin agreed, walking past the discarded tools, “but look around you. If you were a bad person you wouldn’t have been trying to bring your brother back.”

“But—”

“You might have acted rashly and cut me out of your life without hearing my piece—”

 Stanley gulped. His head was hanging in shame once more. Kevin, now standing in front of him, cupped a hand under Stanley’s chin and tiltedtilted his head up to look him in the eyes. 

“—but you were trying to fix your mistakes. I’m upset, and I’m hurt, but now that I know what you’ve been through, or at least some of it. I’m willing to forgive you.” 

“Why?” Stanley cried. He stepped back and pushed Kevin’s hand out of his face. “Why are you trying so hard to be nice to me? I’ve been horrible to you. Even when we were together as kids. I was always terrible. So why don’t you just leave me alone in this shit?”

“Because I love you.” 

“What?” Stan furrowed his brow.

“I loved you when we were younger, through thick and thin we were there for one another back then. And now, looking at you and how much you’ve grown, yet still stayed the same. I can still feel the warmth in my heart that I felt back then.” Kevin smiled fondly. “Stanley Pines, I love you.”

“Dammit Kevin I’m no good for you. I’ve lied, I've cheated, I've stolen. I’m a crook through and through. You deserve someone worth your time.” Stanley cried.

There was a pause.

“Do you hate me?” Kevin asked bluntly.

“Wha-no of course not.” 

“Did you stop loving me?”

Stanley let out a sigh. “I still love you. Yes.”

“Then why shouldn't we try being together once more.” Kevin said.

“Kevin, please just trust me. If you stay with me this will be the rest of your life!” Stanley pointed to the portal.

“Then at least I’ll be spending my life with someone I care about.” Kevin replied.

“I…”

Kevin wrapped his arms around Stanley once again. He gave a tight squeeze before the other man could protest. 

“You’re scared of hurting me. I get it. But I’m a grown man now. I can handle being hurt,” Kevin whispered into Stan’s ear.

Stanley wrapped his arms around Kevin, returning the tight embrace. The pair stood in the middle of the basement, enjoying the comfort in one another that they had sorely missed. After a few minutes Kevin pulled back and held onto Stanley’s hands.

“Stanley, I want this. I want us.” Kevin said earnestly.

“But—”

“I know you’re afraid.” Kevin cast a glance at the portal. “I am too. But if you’re with me, I feel like I can take on anything.” There was a beat before Kevin continued. “I love you Stanley Pines. There’s no changing that. But if you feel that you don’t want me in your life, then I will not force myself here. But, if only this once, would you give me a chance?”

Kevin looked into Stanley’s eyes. They were surrounded by heavy bags, yet behind the stress and tiredness, Kevin could still see a shine of hope. A spark of joy that he hadn’t seen in ten years. He wanted to hug him again. He wanted to hold him here until all his pain and sleeplessness had left him. Kevin squeezed his hands and watched as Stanley returned the gesture. There was a calm silence between the two before Stanley spoke once more.

“I don’t know how we’ll get this to work. But I missed you Kev. I really did.” Stanley reached out, hugging Kevin one final time, burying his face into his shoulder.

“I missed you too Stan.” Kevin said softly. “I missed you too.”

****

Thank you to my Beta Readers @snapback-gravity-falls and @bluestuffeh for helping me out with this fic!

A Well Deserved Drink

This fic was written out of a challenge by my friend @lemonfodrizzleart based on her work tumblr and twitter! Featuring her absolutely ADORABLE OC Jackie. Now with further delay, I hope you all enjoy!

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Stanley wanted to smack himself. Growing up as a respectable southern gentleman, his father had taught him to never stare at a person, no matter how much they attracted his attention. It was rude and a Pines man was many things but rude was not one of them. That's why he had made the effort to avert his eyes when he'd notice the way Fiddleford's hand would linger on top of Stanford's whenever his twin would pass the farmhand a tool, or in this instance a water bottle after a hard day’s work. He knew spreading rumors and walking about someone when they weren't around was not what a good gentleman does, but something deep down in Stan told him that those lingered holds were not accidental. 

 There was something deeper behind it, and in this moment, as Stanley found his eyes wandering over to the figure of the newest hire, Jackie.

Stanford McGucket (3/?)  Fitting in

“And after Bessie comes Buttercup, Bertha, Bob, Billy, Bethany, and Bella.” Angie said.  She pointed out each cow as she spoke. She had an arm draped on Bessie’s neck, the other held the fence of the pasture. Her legs kicked as she sat from her perch on top of the fence.

“I feel like there’s a story behind those names,” Stanford yawned. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and leaned against the fence.

“It’s nothing too amazing,” Angie said. “Ma just named her first heifer Bluebell and the first-er- darn it.”

“What’s the matter?” Stanford asked. He looked away from the grazing cows to face Angie.

“I forgot the word for like a boy cow, but like Brandon wasn’t a bull, ‘cause he was castrated, there’s a word for a cow when they’re like that,” Angie said. She snapped her fingers as she thought. “It’s like-the only thing that’s comin’ to my mind is that it’s close to the word for like guiding something.”

“Er-lead?” Stanford offered.

“Nah-they weren’t dogs,” she said. Her fingers lightly drummed on Bessie’s neck.

“Um-hmm herd-no that doesn’t sound right.”

“No it like starts with-oh that’s it!” Angie said excitedly. “It was Steer! Brandon was her first steer! The first two cows were named Brandon and Bluebell.”

“Brandon and Bluebell?” Stanford asked, “and ever since then your family signed a secret pact to name every cow you come to own from then to the end of time a name beginning with ‘B’?”

“Wouldn’t call it a pact, but we do find it funny,” Angie replied. She lightly patted Bessie’s snout. “You could say it’s an inside joke.”

“Yes that would be a more reasonable description,” Stanford agreed.

“So as I was saying, when you get used to waking up earlier. We’ll start getting you to help with milking the beautiful dames of this pasture.” Angie said. “Now let’s go see the horses.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll get used to waking up early soon enough.” Stanford assured. He tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “If I’m going to be a farm hand worth his salt I’ll need to get used to early mornings in any case.”

“Worth your salt?” Angie asked. She hopped off her perch and stood next to Stanford.

“In the days before currency was measured in metal and paper, it was often measured in spices. And salt was considered very-uh-pricey? No um-it was considered to have a lot of worth. So soldiers that were paid in salt had to work very hard so that they could be considered ‘worth their salt.’” Stanford explained.

“Wow really? I didn’t know that. I thought money was always a thing that people used, just changing like. Shiny rocks for us, less shiny rocks for the people before us, and so on.” Angie said. She led the way to the barn.

“You aren’t wrong, it’s just that-well you know how when someone does a job they’re paid in money?” Stanford said, rolling his hands as he spoke.

“Yes. That’s how jobs normally work.” Angie replied.

“And how you can exchange the money you earn for good and services?” Stanford asked.

“Services?” Angie asked.

“Getting your hair cut and visiting the carnival,” Ford explained. “Well sometimes people skip the middleman of the money and give their employees the food and services directly.”

“Like when Ma and Pa let me and my sibs have as many apples as we want after we help with harvest?” Angie asked.

“Yes exactly.” Stanford said happily. “And other times, with that salt example I gave earlier, they add another step to collecting the money. A more modern equivalent would be paying someone with a cheque.”

“’Cause those have to be traded in at the bank?”

“You catch on fast.” Stanford said.

“I wouldn’t be in junior year if I couldn’t.” Angie grinned back.

“Juni-but you’re two years younger than Lute. That wouldn’t make sense unless-you skipped a grade?”  

“Yep!” Angie said grinning proudly.

“That’s impressive” Stanford said. He ignored the twist in his stomach. “You must have done a lot of studying.”

“It wasn’t too much trouble, the fact that I had had so many siblings that went through the same curriculum before me is what gave me the boost to get so far ahead.” Angie said. “I’d sometimes sit with Fidds and Lute to help them their work.”

“Really?” Stanford said. He could feel his jaw loosen, ready to slam into his toes.

“More like be a wall for them to bounce ideas off of,” Angie admitted. She skipped to the barn door. “You shoulda seen the way their eyes light up when they figure out the solution to whatever math problem had been holding them back.”

“Oh-still, that’s a rather useful thing to do. I’d imagine having someone to talk to about a problem would help straighten out one’s thoughts.” Stanford followed her to the barn door.

“Yeah ‘cause they’d have to explain what the problem was in the first place, so I’d be getting tutoring for things I was going to learn later down the road real early. And by the time they explained the whole thing they’d either have already figured out a solution or would be halfway there.”

“Sounds like you’re a natural helper. Which brother would chase you out of the room for annoying him?” Stanford said. His mouth quirked up into a mischievous grin.

“Stanford how could you possibly imply such a thing?” Angie gasped in mock offence. “I’m renowned as the family angel, why would I do such a thing to my beloved brothers?”

“Laying it on a little thick aren’t you?”

“The skit’s still a work-in-progress. And to answer your question, both. Fidds more than Lute, but that was because he gets stressed real easy like. Anyway-”Angie said. She stood straight and deepened her voice like a showman presenting a prize on a quiz show and pointed her arm towards the horse stables. “Allow me to introduce you to the most beautiful gals on the farm.”

Stanford followed her hand and caught sight of a couple of long brown faces standing in the stalls that lined the wall of the barn. “Horses?”

“Not just any horses! Top of the line equines bred on this here farm.” Angie grinned walking along the stalls, five long heads poked out as she spoke. “First we have our one and only stallion, Jesse. He and Tuesday over here are our chestnuts.” she pointed her hand in a presenting manner towards a pair of horses with reddish brown coats and manes.

“Nexgz-bleh wait-lemme start over.” she said quickly, clearing her throat, “Next we have Carla and her little foal Cinnamon.” The smaller horse neighed at the mention of her name, trying her best the reach over the stall door. The effort earned her a pet along her short black mane from

Angie.

“Isn’t she adorable?” Angie asked before walking along. “And last, and most certainly not least, we have the award winning Daisy!” Angie said, shaking her hands in the direction of the cream coated horse. Cocking her head to the side, Daisy whinnied while shaking her head, showing off her light coloured man and spotless coat. “Ma an’ Pa got her for me for my birthday when I was real small. I’ve been taking her to shows and winning ever since I could ride,” Angie added proudly.

“She does have a rather well kept coat.” Stanford said, adjusting his glasses to get a better look. He noticed several different coloured ribbons that adorned Daisy’s stall. Blue first place ribbons were displayed proudly near the top of the stall, with the lower ranked ribbons placed beneath them, making an interestingly pair of colour trails that lead down the stall front. The ribbon trails met together at one ribbon that Stanford didn’t recognize. It had cream as its main colour, with white, blue and red highlights. Like the other ribbons, it had a circle of reflective fabric as its centrepiece, with the actual ribbon being woven around it like a flower, ending in two tails beneath. Taking a closer look, Stanford noticed that the central fabric had ‘Best little sister’ stitched in rather crudely; as though the sewer was still learning the ways of using a needle and thread.

“Lute an’ Fidds made that one for me” Angie said, following Ford’s line of sight. “I came home feelin’ a bit sour after my first horse riding comp. I didn’t win, obviously. “She said, now leaning against the side of Daisy’s stall. “Hard to come out on top for something you’re doing for the first time. My family were supportive, but I still took it kind of badly.”

“It’s an understandable reaction,” Stanford said. “You were rather young at the time, if this ribbon’s appearance is any indication.”

“I’m still young!” Angie shot back.

“I meant younger,” Stanford replied. “I wear glasses but I’m not blind.”

“They’d be kinda pointless if you were,” Angie said. “Anyway, where was I? Right, I ended up bawling my eyes out into my pillow that night. But then I heard a knock at my door. But no one was there when I went to answer it,” Angie said. “Instead I found two of that ribbon on the floor. Turned my mood right on its head right then, believe you me. I wore that ribbon for a week straight before finally hanging it from my bed frame.”

“That makes it match with Daisy’s,” Stanford observed.

“Yep!” Angie said happily.

“Your brothers really do love you don’t that?” he said, looking to the tattered ribbon.

“It’s what family does best.” Angie replied.

In that moment, Stanford could have sworn he had heard the sound of someone squealing in pain, ever so faintly. But before he could address his observation he felt something furry rub against his leg. Stanford let go of what he heard ‘probably one of the horses’ he thought as he looked down to his new companion. “And who might you be?” he asked.

“That’s Salmon.” Angie said. She bent down to pet the orange tabby. “Aren’t you a little darling?” she cooed. “We have another cat, Tuna, he shouldn’t be too far away, and I think I saw him earlier.”

Standing up, Angie walked around the barn calling out for the other cat. It took a few minutes before the grey cat trotted into the barn, the fur around his mouth red and slightly damp. “There you are. Back fresh from the hunt?” Angie asked, walking up to the cat. Tuna lightly head butted her leg before rubbing the side of his head and eventually the rest of his body against her.

“Hunt?” Ford asked.

“Yes, these little beasts help keep the mice from getting into our crops,” Angie replied, giving Tuna a scratch behind the ears.

“I-” Stanford stared at Salmon, who had flopped onto his foot as though it were a bed. “Don’t get me wrong, I know the whole cat and mouse tale. But I find it hard to believe that Er-Salmon?”- Angie nodded- “Salmon is the type to strike fear into the hearts of mice.”

“He’s just trying to act all cutesy to ya so that he can weasel treats outta you later on.” Angie grinned, walking over. “You want to hold him?”

“I-is it alright if I did? Wouldn’t I get my clothes dir-” Stanford blushed, realising himself.

“We keep ‘em clean, don’t worry. The worst you’ll get is some fur on your shirt.” Angie said, scooping up the orange puddle that was Salmon, “unless you’re allergic to cats or fur, you’ll be fine,” she smiled.

“I-I don’t remember having any allergies, feline, fur based or otherwise,” Stanford said. He watched as Angie picked up Salmon from below its front legs. The cat’s body hanged lazily; his tail curling up between his hind legs.

“Perfect.”  Angie grinned, offering the cat to Ford.

Hesitating for a moment, Stanford recalled the way his aunts had taught him how to hold his infant cousins. With a careful hand, he reached forward and placed a hand under the cat’s behind and the other behind its shoulders. Interested at his technique, Angie let go of that cat, allowing Stanford to hold that cat against his chest as though it were a baby. Salmon stared up at him, taking in his features, before blinking slowly.

“Aw he likes you,” Angie cooed.

“You think so?” He asked, wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

“He hasn’t tried to run from you or scratch you,” Angie said. “So I’d say that that’s strong evidence to him likin’ you.”

Stanford’s smile was cut short by Salmon batting at his nose as though it were a toy. “How dare you,” he said flatly, staring the cat down.

Angie laughed hysterically as the cat reached for Ford’s nose again.

“You know, it never occurred to me that they’d use a truck to get mail out here,” Stanford said. He watched the mail van drive down the road from the window above the kitchen sink. He was elbow deep in soapy dishwater, hands working away at cleaning off the syrupy remains on the dishes.

“Well they sure as shine ain’t gonna walk all the way out here,” Sally joked. She leafed through a thick set of letters. Her eyes scanned the envelopes and fingers cycling through them quickly. The set until she had read the entire pile in less than a minute. Stanford tried his hardest to not stare as she sorted through the letters. Sally placed the letters into several piles on the kitchen table. ‘Probably to the addressee,’ Stanford thought before turning back to the dishes.

“I mean, they could in theory, but they’d probably have to dedicate a specific mailman for your mail,” Ford said after a cough.

“As nice as that sounds, I’d hate to be the poor son of a gun who’d have to walk out here during the summer scorchers we have comin’ up,” Sally smiled.

“But that’d be their job wouldn’t it? They wouldn’t complain because that’s their lot in life right?” Ford asked. He put the last dish onto the drying rack.

“I doubt that’d be a reason for someone to not be happy with their lot in life,” Sally said. She handed Stanford a dish towel.  “Grumblin’ about things seldom got anyone anywhere in life, but that doesn’t mean you won’t want to. If I had to walk here from town every morning I know I’d be grumbling about my feet hurting until the next morning. But I wouldn’t waste my time grumbling, you gotta keep working hard.”

“So, complaining is okay as long as it’s used to motivate instead of procrastinate?” Stanford asked. He dried his hands on the towel in his pocket before taking the one Sally offered him.

“I’d say that sums it up about right,” Sally grinned. She reached out to ruffle the young man’s hair, but stopped herself. Instead she walked over to the table and picked up the mail, arranging the piles into a perpendicular stack to keep them separate. “When you finish come round to the sewing room would you Stanford?”

“Uh sure-wait wasn’t I supposed to be working in the garden today?” Stanford asked, pausing midway through scrubbing one of the larger dishes.

“I already told Angie to cover your gardening chores for today, you’ll be feeding the animals in her place,” Sally informed him.

“I see—then I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” He quickly finished drying up the plates and put them back in their proper cupboards. ‘Plates to the left, bowls to the right. Tall glasses up above for the tallings,’ he muttered, remembering the not-quite-rhyme that Fiddleford had taught him.

Placing the towel from his pocket on a chair as he walked past, Stanford made his way down the hall. He followed the gentle sounds of a motor and found himself in the sewing room. The room wasn’t very large, hardly any larger than the guest room if Stanford were to guess. It had a large desk against the wall nearest to the door, an assortment of fabrics and enough spools of thread of so many colours that a rainbow would be jealous. The middle of the table had a sewing machine as well as a rather comfortable looking chair. The rest of the room seemed to be used as storage, multiple closets and cardboard boxes lined the walls. Stanford could see the odd faded coat sleeve poking out from the closet door.

“You wanted to see me?” He asked as he stood by the door. He watched Sally carefully move something back and forth under the needle of the sewing machine.

“Ah, ya came a bit earlier than I thought,” Sally said. She didn’t look up from her work. “I’ll be done in a couple minutes, have yourself a seat,” she nodded towards a pile of boxes nearby.

Stanford parked himself on specified stack, noting how the boxes slightly gave way to his weight. As though he was not the first person to use them as a makeshift chair; and considering the lack of another chair in the room, he’d probably not be the last. Stanford played with the loose string on his shirt as he waited the few minutes for Sally to finish whatever she was working on.

“And finished,” Sally said happily. She raised her work into the air before turning to face Stanford. She beamed at him while offering her creation, a pair of custom made six-fingered gloves. “I made them from an old pair of Mearl’s, quickly try them on, I want to make sure I got the size right.”

Stanford stared at the gloves in his hands and felt breath hitch as he felt the slightly matted fabric in his hands. The first five fingers were grey with a pair of green pinkie fingers sewed on to the end. There was a large stitch across the palm. Stanford pulled the gloves on and flexed his fingers.

“How are they?” Sally asked.

“They’re a little tight here but apart from that they’re perfect,” Stanford said. He pointed along his knuckles to show where he was talking about. “The fabric kind of digs into my knuckles.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” Sally smiled. Stanford handed her the gloves and she got back to work. “This’ll take a while so you're probably best to get to feedin’ the critters.”

“Er— Right,” Stanford said. He walked over to the door before stopping. “Sa—Mrs. McGucket, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Stanford,” Sally smiled.

A/N: this is a shorter and more bonding based chapter. Things will get a bit more plot heavy next chapter. Today was Angie’s turn in the spot light giving Stanford a more in-depth tour than the one he had last chapter. 

I hope you guys enjoyed reading!

Stanford McGucket (1/?)

It had been a month, and yet still Stanford remembered the night as though it had just happened. The duffle bag flung at his chest, the forceful slam of the front door to his childhood home, his brother’s protests being silenced by their father’s angry screams. Through heavy tears, he could see their silhouettes in some sort of violent puppet show in the bedroom window. He spent that night in the boat that he and Stanley had spent many a summer’s day working on.

The Sweetest things Can Hurt Us the Most

AO3

There was a loud crash and a scream.

Fuck Stanley thought as he struggled to get up, his arms not used to their new size. Dammit I fucked up , he screamed in his mind as he realised that the pain from having hot chocolate spill onto him contributed to that struggle. But he didn’t have time to waste; he needed to get up before someone heard. Thankfully he hadn’t gotten any of his drink on his legs when he dropped it.