Tchaikovsky's iconic Romeo and Juliet Love Theme! I'm sure everyone has heard that iconic melody before. I'll update this tomorrow, I guess? I just really wanted to write something for Valentine's Day, even though it's kinda crappy.
Every year, Stanford found himself holed up in his room with a mountain of chocolate he knew his brother wouldn't be able to finish alone in the first place, wishing that he was in an alternate universe where Groundhog Day was the over-commercialized February holiday instead of stupid, stupid Valentine's day. He imagined stuffed groundhog toys instead of teddy bears holding flowers, groundhog-shaped cookies, motifs revolving around the juxtaposition of spring and winter—anything except roses or hearts or candlelit dinners or the perpetual reminder that despite having the same face, everyone liked Stanley more than him
The sentiments were the same even in Gravity Falls. In fact, it seemed multiplied to a horrifying effect in Gravity Falls: the gnomes sent truffles dusted with pixie dust, Darlene the spider girl sent a box of spiders that wove a love poem in intricate webs, some Rick Sanchez fellow sent a bottle of what seemed to be extremely expired apple cider, Lazy Susan sent homemade brownies, Carla "Hotpants" McCorkle sent the stereotypical giant teddy bear holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates, and Bud and Preston were both fervently competing to woo Stanley at that very moment. Even Fiddleford participated in the harem. He sent a mini robot decorated with hearts that shot lasers.
As always, the few gifts Stanford did receive were mere consolation prizes that both twins received out of "fairness." From Grauntie Mabel, of course, matching glittery pink sweaters with a cupid's bow on the front. Manly Dan gave them rocks because flowers were too short-lived and fragile for him. Maria noncommittally threw expired Mexican candy at them. Fiddleford handed him a handmade card with the equation: the square root of negative one, x-squared plus the quantity of y minus the cube root of x-squared squared equals one, you. (I heart you. Stanford immediately recognized the cardioid equation.) Preston bribed him with an origami rose made from a twenty-dollar bill in an attempt to convince Stanford to convince Stanley to go out with him. Grunkle Dipper didn't even knew what day it was.
He stared at Fiddleford's card forlornly. (A tiny disclaimer at the bottom informed him that Fiddleford did not actually hold romantic feelings toward him in that way, but Fiddleford just wanted to show Ford the pun because he thought it was cute.) Surely there had to be some formula to get people to like him.
As he was sifting through Stan's side of the room to find a box of chocolates with some that are coconut-filled, the devil himself came rushing inside and locked the door behind him. Stan slumped against the door, panting as if he had just ran a marathon.
"Remember that scene in the Great Gatsby where Leonardo diCaprio surprised Daisy with a room full of flowers?" Stanley asked.
Stanford didn't bother to remind his brother the name of the character that diCaprio played in that movie. Jay Gatsby was literally the namesake of the film, but Stanley had the habit of calling Leonardo diCaprio by his name no matter what character he played. "Yeah?"
"Don't go in the kitchen," Stanley warned gravely. He proved his point with a frenzy of consecutive sneezes.
From outside their room, the brothers heard arguing.
"You fool!" Preston yelled, like a Disney villain scolding their bumbling idiot minion. "Stan's allergic to pollen!" He banged on the door. "Stanley, I'll burn the flowers and buy you all the allergy medication you need! You can't possibly like a fool who could've killed you!"
Bud gently knocked a rhythm. "I'm so sorry, sweet Lee! I didn't know! But we could get to know each other better tonight! You, me, and a serene sunset at the peak of—"
"He's afraid of heights, you useless psychic!"
"Oops!"
Stanford tossed his suffering brother a box of tissues to wipe his runny nose with. He had to say, he was impressed with Preston and Bud. They were a fork in the road he would be lost at, too, since they were both affluent. Bud was sweet and cordial, though a little misguided in his efforts, while Preston was cold and arrogant, yet warm and thoughtful once the initial layer of ice melted.
Worse yet, Stanley was still head over heels for Carla. And he still had a thing for Darlene. And Lazy Susan. And the gnomes. And apparently Rick, whoever that was. And lately, there has been heavy hinting at Fiddleford that Stanford didn't fail to catch…
Stanley continued to sneeze. His eyes watered and his throat itched. "Ugh, at this rate I'll be crushed to death! Can't you come up with a plan-ford, Stanford?"
At the very least, Fiddleford was subtle.
The hints were easy to miss, easy to interpret as innocent friendship. Ford got the first cue when he asked Fiddleford how he was able to tell them apart when they wore the . Fiddleford made an offhand comment about how "of course" he wouldn't miss minute details about the people he liked: Stan had a certain speech pattern, Stan stood a certain way, Stan sparkled a certain sparkle that shines a certain way. Particularities like that were all a part of Stan's style, and he liked that.
Ford didn't put one and one together until Stan pulled Fiddleford into a chokehold hug and teasingly declared that Fiddleford really did love him, didn't he? Fiddleford denied nothing, reluctantly condoning the suffocating hug. That was when Ford first considered the thought of his two best friends dating each other. His first assumption was that he would become a third wheel quickly and end up with no best friends.
Then, the evidence began to stockpile. Every interaction they had, now under a new light, revealed more than what he first saw at surface level. Fiddleford was touchier around Stan, stared at Stan a few seconds too long, tolerated Stan to an extent not even Ford could. The feeling stirred in Ford's stomach every time Fiddleford "happened" to let their legs touch while he and Stan sat close together.
It didn't help that Stan's incessant flirting was a perfect match for Fiddleford's dry sarcasm.
"Hey, Fidds, you got a map?"
Ford already knew the direction Stan was taking with that lame line. All of Stan's dumb pick-up lines went by Ford first for a stamp of approval, which was actually a loud groan. The point was that Fiddleford had pretty blue eyes, but Stan would never outright say that. It was too "girly." Apparently, manliness entailed wrapping compliments in annoying layers of bad humor.
"I'd lend you one, but I'd prefer it if you got lost."
"Aw, Fidds! I'm already lost in your eyes."
"Maybe you should read my lips. N-O."
It was entertaining until the day Fiddleford decided subtlety wasn't all it cracked up to be with Stan being unable to read between the lines, if he was even able to read the lines themselves. With Stanford's luck, that day happened to coincide with the same day two other lovesick fools were after his brother, also the same day Ford and Stan switched clothes. Stanford's plan-ford would've been perfect, otherwise. Bud and Preston didn't suspect a thing when Ford, dressed as Stan, announced that he would only date the boy that gave him an orange lemon. At that moment, Fiddleford walked into the room.
"That's a peculiar request, Ford. It's a good thing the Stan I want as my Valentine is your brother."
It took a second for Bud and Preston to put the puzzle pieces together, but that was long enough for the twins to slip back into their room and back to the drawing board. Three boys lurked outside the door, now, all with the same intention, clashing noisily with each other.
"He's already mine, Fiddleford," Bud hissed.
Fiddleford stared skeptically at the jewelry gift box in Preston's hands. "Preston Northwest? You want Stan, too?"
"I-It's not like I think he's cute or something!"
This year, Stanford was holed up with the largest mountain of chocolate he had seen, yet, and Stanley finally understood the superiority of Groundhog Day.
Will update tomorrow?