Late in the afternoon
Author's Note: What do you call a Fic that's a mesh of Angst and Fluff? Call me delusional or denial-ridden, but I believe Grunkle4Grandpa is alive and well and Shermy is a Red herring. There are countless plot holes and this new developed seems below the GF writings. On that note, Gravity Falls belongs that the Mastermind, troll Alex Hirsch, hope you all enjoy.
Stanley's Point of View
Late in the afternoon, the streetlights and Atlantic coast shimmered in the waning sun, the city ambiance a mesh of daytime nine to five and nighttime nightlife. Cruising thirty, I righted the corner of the Pawn Shop, The engine's roar cutting the quiet tension like a knife. The car rumbled to a halt beneath me. Accompanying the crinkling radio music in the background, the erratic rhythm, and sound soothed my fried nerves. Fifteen-minute drive home from the hospital felt like an eternity, the harsh reality of the mess we made hanging heavy in the air. For another five minutes, I leaned back into Diablo's leather, will the heartbeat to steady. White knuckled, my fists clenched the steering wheel hard, my brows furrowing; I could feel the anxiety rising, the silence suffocating and raw, yet every time I tried to talk, the words would get caught in my throat. Running a hand through my brown locks, I looked her over from the corner of my eyes, the day long and testing for both of us.
Fingers fidgeting on the hem of her floral dress, a frown etched deep in her features, her mouth quivering, holding back the need to cry. Dark bags rimmed her watery eyes, a testimony to the plague of restless nights these past few weeks, her fear and uncertainty flashing beneath the numb and muted mask. A coat of dried tears and ruined mascara trailed her flushed cheeks, a few chestnut curls falling in face. Before I could resist, leaned over the gearshifts, taking one of my hands off the leather wheel, tucking those wild locks behind her ear before twining my hand in hers and holding tight, offering her all the comfort I could muster at that moment. She smiled at my touch, squeezing right back; though small gestures, they lifted some of the burden off my shoulders, her slight blush, and illuminating smile a blessing. Gazing forward reluctantly, I focused on the road ahead, my thumb kneading circles along her hand, my thoughts rewinds back to the doctor's office visit, reciting the doctor's words repeatedly in my head. I remembered her breath hitching, the tanned hue leaving her face at those words,
"…Congrats you two," She chirped in her cheerful, cringe inducing jersey accent, clenching a clipboard to her chest, her grin wide and excited. She continued onward without skipping a beat, naive to our circumstances, oblivious in how she nonchalantly shattered the lives of two reckless teens with her, unprepared and scared, "only four weeks and healthy."
Fatherhood, a new horizon I never thought I would face, at least not at eighteen; jobless, flunking class after class. In the back of my mind, I knew. After discovering that broken condom and her first bouts of morning nausea and fatigue, logic and timing led me to that conclusion, yet nothing could braced me for those words. I thought back to the night four weeks ago, the jealousy I felt for my brother, the fear of abandonment, the need for intimacy at a trying time. I barely registered anything words exchanged after the new discovery, my Responds nominal, a mesh blank nods and acknowledging grunts. I held her hand throughout the visit, offering her wordless comfort yet keeping me grounded and collected. I sifted through figurative file cabinet after figurative file, trying to figure out a way to break it to my family. After Stanford's visit to the principal's office, an air of jubilation and pride enveloped the Pines family household; I couldn't throw a wrench into that.
I cut the engine, kissing the back of her hand before getting out first before rushing to the other her, opening the door in a chivalrous manner. Fishing the house key from under the welcome mat, I peeked my head through the door. I thanked the lord my family went out for dinner tonight. Another congratulatory bonding experience they didn't care to invite me to, following another successful academic achievement by Ford that ended in another scholarship opportunity. In other situations, I would huff over brother receding relationship with me, but not now, not holding the girl with my child in her stomach, with her tears drenching my white tee shirt.
Fists tightening in the fabric of my jacket, the crinkling leather and heaving sobs reverberated across the quiet room. Letting her head rest on my chest, I held her shaking form tight in my arms, my hand running from thigh to ribcage then back against. Lifting her by the chin, I kissed her forehead, my lips lingering for a moment, murmuring comfort and adulation against her skin, my gruff voice a hushing, gingerly tone. Forehead to forehead now, my thumb ran along her cheekbone, drying another fleet of trailing tears: I needed her know I wouldn't abandon her.
I watched her teeter in and out of consciousness for a few minutes, my fingers grazing across her cheek in a relaxing gesture, thwarting her fight against the exhaustion. Before long, I held her dozing form, her sniffs and hitched hiccups transforming into even breaths, even breaths that soothed me. I cursed under my breath, blinking furiously, on the verge of tears. Thoughts of how my family would respond after this new revelation haunting me; I couldn't tell them, not now. 'Jesus, why do I mess everything up? I don't have my shit together, my brother might move across country, who's to say I won't mess this up?'
Breathing through my nose with a tired huff, I laid there with her, enjoying the little moment of bliss, nothing else matter, no one else existed; no imminent condemning reactions from my friends and family, just her and I cocooned within the thick quilt.
End
Author's Note: I need to learn how to write endings better.