Surprisingly, Stan was late in showing up at the glen the next morning. And his cart was missing.

At once Ford was suspicious-he knew his twin far too well to think he was throwing in the towel and surrendering the bet, so he was definitely up to something.

He was about to go looking for his brother, when a new crowd of tourists began filtering through the trees-even bigger than the ones that had come in the last two days.

Maybe this was his plan-to try to overwhelm me by making me deal with all of them at once. Nice try, Stanley.

Ford cleared his throat, and drew himself up to his full height like he had when giving presentations in school.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Tours of Mystery! I'll be your host today-"

Before he could continue, his eardrums were nearly imploded by the blare of a horn.

Ford whirled around in time to see Stan come roaring into place in his cart.

Which was now covered in bright red, glittery paint, and had a sign reading "MYSTERY TOURS (™)" on the roof that was decorated with bright, flashing neon lights until it looked like a traveling carnival wagon.

Stan himself was wearing the same suit and fez as usual, but his tie was the same shade of red as the carts, and it looked like some glitter might have gotten splashed on the suit as well. And as he screeched to a halt and leaped out, grinning widely and lifting his arms (which somehow earned him a chorus of cheers from the crowd), Ford noticed that his eyes, though wide and smiling like normal, were also somewhat bloodshot and manic-looking, like he hadn't gotten anywhere near enough sleep and was trying to make up for it with an overdose of caffeine.

...Not that Ford knew about that from personal experience or anything.

"Howdy, folks!" Stan boomed. "Sorry I'm late, I was getting a few extra things set up for the tour of your lives! I'm your other host, Mr. Mystery, here ta show you befuddlements and wonders the likes of which your kinds have never seen before!"

Ford saw one of his hands twitch, and a few seconds later actual fireworks came bursting from the back of the cart, exploding in the air above them.

The crowd loved it. Ford didn't.

In fact, he decided he'd finally had it.

"Really, Stanley?!" he demanded over the cheering. "You're trying to upstage me?"

"Seems like I'm not just trying," Stan retorted, folding his arms and grinning. "Face it, Poindexter-I'm better at gaining a crowd's interest than you are."

Ford scoffed. "Wow. I'm surprised that you didn't do something like steal my keys or slash my tires, if you're sinking low enough to try to sab-"

As soon as the last part left his lips, he realized that that was going too far. His words screeched to a halt.

"No, I-I didn't mean that-"

There was no finesse or grace to this next part. In fact, it mostly consisted of them scuffling and shoving each other in the dirt, similar to when they were little and had gotten into one of their rare arguments that was bad enough to devolve into fighting.

Many of the tourists stared at them in confusion...but several loved it.

"Whoa, humans fighting!" exclaimed a new figure in a black hoodie who also may or may not have been a vampire, pushing through the crowd to watch in delight.

"I gotta preserve this for the kids!" An unusually hairy guy pulled out a video camera and pointed it at the fighting brothers.

"My money's on the bigger one!"

"Nah, the one with the extra fingers! That probably gives him an advantage!"

Oblivious to all this, the brothers wrestled back and forth, one of them enraged beyond words, the other trying ineffectively to placate him.

"Stanley-stop-I wasn't-"

"The heck you weren't!" Stan wrestled Ford to the ground, pinning him by the shoulders. "You think I'd do that ta you again? Just because I'm not gonna let you take this away from me doesn't mean I'm gonna stoop that low!"

Something about the way he said that made Ford tilt his head and frown at him.

"...Take this away?"

Stanley's rage dissipated a little bit, and his eyes darted to the side.

"N-Nothin'. You wouldn't understand."

"Well, not if you don't tell me." Ford managed to extricate himself without any struggle on his brother's part, and sit up, expression open and inviting.

Stan bit his lip, before finally saying, "...I'm just tryna pull my own weight, okay? I'm tryna make sure I'm not leeching off you, and this job is the first thing I've found that I was really good at. Something that made real money, where my skills as a liar and cheater were good for somethin'. These people like what I'm selling, and they keep coming back for more, and it's not even really illegal stuff for the most part, and it's-it's fun. And you just-all you see is a waste of time ta be gotten rid of." He sat back, hugging himself uncomfortably.

After a second of processing all this, Ford murmured, "I thought you viewed this whole tours thing as just another con. I didn't know you felt that way about it."

Stan snorted. "Yeah, obviously." Then, with less venom, "But it's not like I told you."

"That's not the point; I should have been able to see it from how much you were enjoying it." Ford scooted around until Stan was more or less looking at him. "And you're not leeching off me at all, Stanley-how can you say that? You've provided me with more samples of unicorn hair and gnome hair and stuff than I know what to do with! I would never have even gotten unicorn hair if you hadn't set up your business with them-not to mention you've been bringing home actual gold! You haven't been just pulling your weight-you've been surpassing me in doing so."

Stan shrugged a little, but he did look somewhat pacified at the reminder of the gold.

"Sorry about...gettin' all annoyed when you tried ta correct me about stuff. I know you like it when people have the facts. I just don't feel like a lot of these jokers are ready for them, ya know?"

"...Yes, you might be right," Ford admitted.

"Eh, it happens once in a blue moon."

They smiled a little at each other.

"...So, are we gonna have tours now or what?" yelled a creature that appeared to be a mix between a bear and an owl standing at the edge of the crowd. Several cryptids grumbled in disappointment about the fighting having stopped; another, which looked like a giant bird with the face of an old woman, wiped her eyes on her wing and sniffled, "Reconciliations are so beautiful!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your fur on!" Stan called back to the owlbear, before getting to his feet and offering Ford a hand up.

Both of them were scraped and bruised, and their clothes and hair were covered in grass and dirt. But Stan went and retrieved his fez, and Ford cleaned off his glasses (thanking heaven that they hadn't been broken in the fight), and they began organizing who went into which cart.

After the tours were done for the day, they brought their profits back home, and found Dan sitting on their front porch.

He looked at their disheveled appearances with a raised eyebrow, before finally asking, "...What happened?"

"Accident," Ford said, at the same moment that Stan said, "Beavers. Giant meat-eating beavers."

Dan gave an amused grin as he stood up.

"Knowing what this town's like, I could almost believe that." He chuckled as they stalked past him inside. "Told ya to fix your issues the manly way."

The barrels, when they poured the profits into them, were both overflowing.

"...Does that mean we both win, or we both lose?" Stan asked.

"Yes," Ford said, catching a few gold coins before they could fall to the floor. "So I guess that means we need to come up with a compromise."

He went on, "I guess the tours can stay."

"Yes!" Stan punched the air in delight.

"We may need to work out a few extra details later, but yes. They can stay. In the meantime, I believe there were other aspects to the wager…"

The jubilation faded from his brother at once. "Yeah, about that-"

He rushed for the stairs.

"STANLEY!"

Later

The omelette felt like it was doing weird things to Ford's tongue; when he finished he'd have to check in the mirror to see if it had been turned to plaid. With a grimace he added more salt and pepper to see if that would make the flavor any better.

Stan came into the kitchen and headed for the fridge, pulling out a can of Pitt.

"How'd it go?" Ford asked after swallowing his mouthful.

Stan shrugged. "Fine."

"...Just fine? What did he say?"

"Not much."

"What did you say?"

"...Not much."

Ford glared at his back. "You hung up after asking to speak to him, didn't you?"

"Not exactly…" Stan said innocently.

Ford groaned. "What did you say to him?"

Stan popped the tab on the soda. "Pretended to be a telemarketer, and he hung up."

"Stan-!"

"Hey, you never said anything about me needing ta tell him who I was." He smirked, and left the kitchen.

Ford rolled his eyes, and finally dumped the rest of the omelette in the trash, figuring if Stan was only going to half keep his side of the deal then he was too.

It wasn't even that he wanted Stan to try to reconcile with Pa, or be accepted by him again, he mused to himself. Having learned more about what his brother had gone through since being kicked out, he certainly didn't feel like having a friendly conversation with their father anytime soon; and besides, Pa seemed to have no regrets whatsoever about getting rid of his own son. But…

But it felt like Stan should try to find some kind of closure with him. Even if it was just to tell him to go to hell.

Ford sighed, and washed his dishes in the sink. And then turned his mind to more light-hearted matters, such as figuring out what new attractions to show the supernatural visitors to Gravity Falls.

Since Ford needs some days off to do his research, Stan ends up being the one in charge of most of the tours, with Dan sometimes pitching in too. He also sets up a gift shop in the forest that sells things like abandoned car keys, light switches, and other human stuff that in this context is absolutely useless but that the supernatural creatures go ga-ga over.

Ford, when he has time to spare, gives classes to monsters who are interested in learning more about human stuff-and he even has to teach some monsters basic skills such as reading and writing, and how to read human signs, which decreases the amount of supernatural roadkill in the area by 50%. He makes more of the brochures, and Stan starts handing them out during his tours too. They're able to make quite a decent profit off their business, and if people in town ask Stan where he and his brother get their money from (after he takes some of the gold to the city and sells it) he says that they had a rich uncle who left them a large inheritance as long as they continue living in Gravity Falls.

It's funny how effective lies are as long as there's a grain of truth to them. Because after all, they're unlikely to get paid for things in gold and jewels anywhere else.