Yes, I saw Northwest Mansion Noir!

This chapter is dedicated to the whole of the FiddleStan fandom. You all are wonderful and help keep the creative juices flowing! (an idea or two might have snuck in...)

Anyway, enjoy and tell me what you think!

Five- Not What It Seems

Fiddleford McGucket fluttered his eyes open as his consciousness rose from the dark world of sleep, he looked up at the ceiling above him for a moment and wondered where he was. At the same time he spotted a picture of dogs playing poker on the wall he heard a soft yet deep snore right in his ear and realized just where he was and with whom.

He looked over and saw that one Stanford Pines had not changed a bit in terms of closeness and sleeping positions- at least with Fiddleford. Stan's face was half buried in his neck, his body half draped over the smaller man and arms secured around him. Fiddleford was the big spoon.

A big spoon that really needed to pee and have a cup of coffee. He had had another strange dream, but he could hardly remember it, the more he tried to recall it the more it slipped away. He should be grateful, in a way, last thing he needed right now was another dream related "episode".

All that remained were a set of blurry red numbers counting down and an image of himself in his "hobo look" looking scared and fretful. And a voice, a cloying almost familiar tone that gave a lilting laugh and delightedly warned "If you do not hurry this shall be your fate as well…"

He didn't know if it was his mind that made the images or not, but he didn't like it. Not one bit.

He would worry about all of that later though. First things first.

He really needed to drain the lizard.

With a bit of wiggling and a pinch of patience Fiddleford managed to shift Stan around enough to slip from under him without waking him. Or so he thought, Fiddleford had just about left the bed when he felt a surprisingly strong grip on his wrist. Holding back a surprised squeak he readjusted his glasses, he looked over and was met with a raised brow and a slight frown. A silent question sat on Stan's groggy face.

Fiddleford had forgotten how overprotective and alert Stan was when he wanted to be. It had embarrassed him a bit in his younger years but now it made him smile, despite it being slightly frustrating. Fiddleford leaned over-Stan didn't have his glasses on and the smaller man wanted to make sure he could see his expression- and said reassuringly,

"Toilet. Want some coffee?"

"Any dreams?" came the answer, rough with sleep. Stan's grip hadn't loosened.

"No dreams." Came the happy reply. Fiddleford had had one but the last bits and details were already gone and forgotten during the brief conversation. He just knew it hadn't been good, but why make Stan worry?

Stan squinted at him a moment but then nodded his head.

"Sounds good. Go for it, still use the same machine by the way." Stan let go and then snuggled into the bed a bit.

Fiddleford made a soft noise that was halfway between a disbelieving scoff and an unsurprised sigh as he went to the bathroom.

"Of course you would."

Stan just grinned.

After managing to wake himself up a bit and pulling on his own underwear and wife-beater Fiddleford made his way downstairs and couldn't help his giggle at seeing that Stanford had indeed kept the same coffee machine that he, Fiddleford and Stanley had used back in the day. It was well used but also well cared for, he ran a hand over it and remembered all those times he and Stanley had relied on the majestic machine to keep them going.

"We meet again old friend." He said with a half grin as he started to make a fresh pot. As he moved about the kitchen he realized he had never asked Stan where he kept anything, and then couldn't help a small laugh when he saw he didn't need to. Everything was where he remembered it being placed, exactly as he himself had last refilled the kitchen.

It was a testament to how stuck in the past Stanford was. And he himself.

'Well, while I'm feeling nostalgic might as well be productive about it and make an old favorite.' He thought with a wry smile. He searched through the cupboards and made a noise of triumph when he found the appliance he was looking for.

"I hope he has all of the ingredients."

Dipper made a small grunt as he awoke, he sleepily rubbed his eyes and wondered what had woken him. Then he realized, it was a smell. A delicious one. He looked over at Mabel when he heard her wake up and he watched as her eyes widened and she turned her head. They barely spent a moment sharing a look before they were on their way down, racing to see the source of the smell.

They gasped in happy surprise when they saw one FIddleford McGucket setting a plate of waffles in front of a sleepy eyed Stan, who sipped coffee from a mug. He noticed them and grinned.

"Who wants waffles? My father showed me the recipe."

Both twins cheered and settled at the table to partake.

Bill would have almost barfed at the cuteness if he had a mouth-and ate. From his spot outside of the reality of the humans, he watched. Moving about the kitchen and getting all of the interesting angles. He looked over at Stanford Pines and Fiddleford McGucket and couldn't help a laugh, those two just made the cutest couple. One of the best ones he had run into in quite the while.

One he had had some great fun tearing apart and then throwing back together again.

They had also put on quite the show the last night too, the smaller man could still make quite the high note when Stanford hit the right spot.

But the yellow dream demon wasn't there for blatant voyeurism, though it was a plus, no he had more professional purposes. He was there personally to keep track of the progress on the portal and to keep Maya's influence away from one former hobo. That mind was his.

All the same, despite his efforts she had still managed a small message, a taunt more than anything, but it was proof she was getting stronger.

And closer.

He was-they all were- running out of time. This reality was his to destroy and mess with. What she wished to do was worse, so much worse. For them all.

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"Here's what's left of the laptop that we destroyed, and then fixed, and then destroyed again." Intoned a slightly embarrassed Dipper to Fiddleford as he placed the older man's former laptop on the kitchen table.

The former curator looked at the mess of tangled wires and metal, he slowly inspected it as Dipper told him the tale of how he had gotten the long forgotten computer and what had happened to it. The older man shivered at the mentions of Bill and the Shape shifter, he still remembered the shiv to the gut the latter had given him during an escape attempt many years ago.

He hoped the monster stayed frozen like that forever. Better yet, when all was said and done and they were still alive he'd like to go down to the old lab and have a nice long conversation with the frozen monster. Preferably via communication of a bat to it's everything until there was nothing but bits of frozen meat left.

Fiddleford wished he could tell the boy everything- and scold him. Dipper reminded him of Stanley, ready to find the unexplained and drag it out into the light of day kicking and screaming to examine and document. And so blind to the true danger of what he was dealing with. Yes, Dipper was aware he had risked his life, his friend's and sister's lives, but he did not see the bigger picture.

Or at least he didn't have enough pieces to. Fiddleford wanted to help him like he couldn't his son. He didn't have all the answers, but had so many and if only they could team up-

"Dipper, Grunkle Stan wants you pull in the dumpster." Mabel walked in, the beginnings of a lovely dove gray sweater in her hands.

"Right now?" He asked, a little incredulously.

"Yup, he's made enough money advertising it as the "Amazing Disappearing Dumpster" and wants you to move it while he distracts everyone so they can't see you take it. "

Dipper gave a frustrated groan before excusing himself, he'd do this quickly and then get back to his digging. Fiddleford just shook his head and gave a laugh at Stan's antics.

"I can't believe people still fall for stuff like that."

Mabel shrugged and then went to sit in the chair next to Fiddleford. The former hobo was staying out of line of sight and hiding in the inner bowels of the home while Stan operated his business. He really wasn't ready for the general public to catch wind of his "going sane", and working at the Shack helped his mind to stay focused.

"Well, you know our Grunkle, he's good at showing the people what they want!"

Fiddleford laughed a little and agreed.

"Just like you."

He blinked.

"Huh?"

"You remember everything, don't you?"

Fiddleford turned to the small girl, but she wasn't looking at him. She concentrated on her future sweater, a small smile on her face.

"You remember everything but you won't tell Dipper, at least not anything about the Author and the journals."

She looked up at him, face understanding yet neutral.

Fiddleford rubbed his head, guilt and surprise rolled though him.

"I'm sorry Mabel, I-I can't. Not yet."

"Will you and Stan tell him-us when you need to?"

"Of course. If it was my decision we would have already told you."

No use lying now.

Mabel nodded her head, her oddly serious expression melting in a soft smile.

"Okay Grunkle Fiddleford. I trust you."

"H-how did you figure it out?" He couldn't believe this.

"I'm pretty good with people. Read your faces-you have a lot of tells by the way, you would stink at poker- and I like to eavesdrop."

A truly conniving- and Stan like- grin spread across her face for a second and then dissolved in a content smile again. Fiddleford was about to retort but the back door opened and Dipper stepped back in.

"Now that that's over with, you think you can fix that?" The boy pointed to the crushed laptop as he took the seat on Fiddleford's other side.

"Fortunately yes, despite the abuse it has gone through the inner components- most importantly the memory – is completely intact. It will take some time though." He was truthful about this, he had specifically made sure the outer casing could withstand most monster attacks and he wouldn't have much time to concentrate on repairing it, especially since he now had to split his time in completing the portal and making regular appearances to his son and others.

That's what he got for having a small breakdown after "recovering": concern. He didn't know whether to be appreciative or annoyed.

The portal was almost ready to be reconnected and given a test run. He'd finish it the next night and then things would really get started.

"Thank you for returning my computer to me Dipper." Fiddleford had calculations and information in the box of software that not even Stanford and Stanley knew about.

"Sure thing Grunkle Fiddleford. I hope it helps you remember and helps us solve the riddle of the journals." The boy gave him such an earnest smile as he said this, Fiddleford silently cursed Stanford as he smiled back.

One the other side of the house Stan and Wendy watched the last of the current group of customers- suckers- wander around the gift shop and make frivolous purposes. Wendy raised a brow as she saw Stan tense.

"You alright Mr. Pines?"

"Yeah, just felt some shivers down my spine." He answered, shuddering a bit.

"Someone must be thinking of you." She laughed.

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Gideon Gleeful frowned as he looked in the mirror. The she-demon had kept her end of the bargain, she had gotten him released from prison. Nightmares had a powerful effect on people. He just had to do some community service and "seek counseling" in return. Right now he was dressing in the clothes he had entered in, and he saw that he had lost some weight.

His once spick and span blue suit was now drab and baggy over his slightly thinner frame. At least his hair was still grand. Sticking on a grin he walked out of the changing area. He made sure to play the charming, repentant boy as he was escorted out of Gravity Falls Prison.

He took a deep breath of forest air and looked at the night sky, the twinkling stars just served as a reminder to what he had agreed to.

Yes, his return would be sweet.