As it turned out, they had to go to Oregon by car. A car that had seen better days. Dipper and Mabel exchanged an uneasy look, bumped wings and climbed into the back seat. Stan mumbled something about flying "not agreeing with him" when questioned about the mode of transport.
One thing the kids were thankful for was that the car was one of those big old ones that (children at least) could relax their wings in a little.
Stan was not so lucky. His already battered looking wings were rubbing on the roof and shedding feathers on the front and back seats.
His right wing, at least, could relax slightly across the passenger seat; but this was still probably a two day trip(where would they overnight? Medford? He'd done the drive in a day on the way down). In his younger years it would have been a half day, tops. But he was older, and had grieving children in tow. A mad dash across state lines was probably not going to happen.
So far he'd been burying his grief, under alternating layers of duty, denial, and out right stubbornness. Estranged(slightly) uncles weren't supposed to be as deeply effected as he was. He was doing what he did best: lying his ass off.
"Grunkle Stan, can we stop soon?" Mabel piped up from the back seat.
Shifting his wing out of the way, Stan glanced back, "Sure kid, waddya need?"
"Food," Mabel chirped.
Dipper glanced at his watch, "Yeah, we've been on the road for four hours."
"Yeah, sure," Stan replied, taking the next exit. Some place named "Weed". In northern California. Who'd have thought?
He found a McDonald's and they ate their cheap burgers in relative silence.
"So...you kids have any hobbies?" Wow Stan, way to be social.
The twins held a brief, silent, conversation before Dipper spoke up, "Well, uh, Mabel knits and does crafts, and I write. Sometimes."
"That's... uh, that's neat," Stan offered lamely before the table relapsed into silence.
The kids picked at their meals, but convinced each other to eat an amount that Stan deemed a close cousin to healthy, so he didn't intervene.
Climbing back in the car, they continued to make their way up the I-5, crossing into Oregon almost an hour later. Thanks to various stops(bathroom, bathroom, carsick child, dinner—in that order), they reached Eugene sometime after nightfall. The kids had fallen asleep leaning on each other, wings held protectively in reflex. Stan glanced in the rear view mirror and sighed, recalling his own childhood. There was only a couple more hours before they got to Gravity Falls, but quite frankly, his eyes weren't what they used to be. That meant " a couple hours" had another hour tacked on for slower, more careful driving.
Eventually pulling up in front of the Mystery Shack sometime around midnight, Stan opened the back door of the car. "C'mon kids. Kids?" he prompted, but they were sound asleep.
My back is gonna hate me tomorrow, he thought, somehow managing to scoop up one kid in each arm.
The front door was an adventure, the stairs were a nightmare, and the hastily tidied attic was painful; but the twins remained asleep(here's to small miracles) and the back pain Stan knew he was due had yet to make it's appearance. He knew it was going to be a bitch in the morning, but that's what Advil was made for.
Brushing the hidden wards as he left the room, Stan checked that the kids would be sleeping safely. Satisfied that nothing would be crawling through the window in the night, he headed to bed himself; promising to just take everything a day at a time.