The first time that Stan Pines met his great-niece and nephew was when child services showed up with a pair of one-month-old babies, telling him that he was their new guardian. Apparently, his nephew and niece-in-law had died in a car crash leaving little Mabel and Dipper Pines orphaned and under his care. Needless to say, he was mildly shocked…

"You can't leave these two here with me!" Stan protested, almost shouting at the woman in his panic. "I have a business to run. I'm an old man. I've never taken care of children before. I'm a terrible choice to raise these kids!"

The woman, Ms. Prune or something like that, looked less than sympathetic. "Look, Mr. Pines, you are the children's only living relation." She said curtly. "Either you take them in, or they go into a foster home. The choice is yours."

Stan hesitated. The points that he had made to the woman had been valid. He was an old bachelor who had never even had any kids in his house, except for Soos, but the kid only came in to fix stuff, so that didn't count. He often got called away from what he was doing in order to deal with the tourists who filled his coffers. He didn't have time to give these kids the care and attention they needed.

He was just about to open his mouth and tell the woman that he couldn't take the kids, when a small noise made him look down. The two babies were curled up together, clutching onto each other as tightly as their little one-month-old fingers could grip. For a moment, Stan had a flashback to when he and his brother were sitting on their mother's lap, looking at baby pictures together. He and Stanley used to hold onto each other in much the same way these two were. No doubt these two would be just as much trouble.

Damn it, he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave these two to go into the foster system, where they might get separated and grow up never knowing each other. Besides, they were Pines, and if there was one thing that was important to Pines, it was family.

"What paperwork do I have to sign?" He asked.

Half an hour later, Stan was sitting in the living room, staring at the two sleeping babies and silently panicking. Those childcare agents had been crud, just handing over the babies as soon as he had finished signing the paperwork, as if they were a package instead of a couple of children. They hadn't even checked over the house to make sure it was baby-proof, although Stan couldn't really complain about that. If they had checked over the house, he had no doubt in his mind that those babies would be on their way to a foster home faster than you could say "nope".

"You're darn lucky that I'm such a reprobate." Stan told the twins, although he kept his voice down to keep from waking them. "Any responsible adult would have sent you to live with someone who actually knows how to care for kids." All he got in response was a yawn from Dipper. "Yeah, you better appreciate it."

What was it that babies needed? They would need food, so he would have to buy baby formula. Those agents had at least left him with a package of diapers, so he didn't need to buy those for a while. Sleep, they would need somewhere to sleep. He would have to set something up until he could make them a crib (no way was he going to pay for something he could build with his own two hands).

Stan was just finishing his list when Soos entered the house with his toolbox. Stan recalled that he had told the boy to fix the plumbing in one of the bathrooms, so he didn't protest the intrusion. However, he realized too late that Soos rarely closed a screen door quietly, and he winced when it crashed back into place.

Cue the crying babies.

Panic set in as both he and Soos stood there with their hands over their ears. Good God, were all babies this loud? What was he supposed to do? It was a testament to his level of stress that he didn't even think to blame Soos. Instead, he grabbed the child by the shoulders, and quickly wrote down "BABY FORMULA FOR A ONE-MONTH-OLD" on a piece of note paper.

"Here." He thrust the piece of paper into Soos' hand along with a fifty dollar bill. He figured that would be enough to buy any kind of baby formula in the store. "Go to the store, and get me a container of baby formula." He instructed the child, having to shout to be heard over the still wailing babies. "I don't know if there are different types, but if there are, make sure you get the kind for a one-month-old baby. Do you understand?"

"Formula for a one-month-old baby. Got it." Soos said, looking eager. The noise didn't seem to bother him.

"Then go!" Stan didn't even get to finish his words before Soos was out the door like a shot.

"Hey now." Stan turned his attention to the twins. He scooped them up into his arms and rocked them awkwardly, attempting to mimic the movements of parents he had seen on television. "Come on, stop crying. It was just a screen door. No need to go wailing like the world was coming to an end." He said desperately. "You don't need your diapers changed, thank God. Are you hungry? Because Soos'll be back soon with that formula. Don't worry."

Amazingly, the twins actually quieted as Stan spoke to them. He looked at them in surprise.

"Well, that was quick." He said. However, the quiet only lasted for a few minutes before they started wailing again. "Agh! What did I do? Why are you crying now?" He demanded. The babies quieted at the sound of his voice. He stared at them. "You have got to be kidding me."

When Soos returned half an hour later with a package of baby formula, it was to the sight of Stan fast asleep on the couch with a sleeping twin tucked into the crook of each elbow. They had all three fallen asleep to the sound of Stan reading out of "Gold Chains for Old Men Magazine".