Just in case it's not clear to anyone this takes place during Northwest Mansion Noir.
Enjoy!
Seven-Reunion
"If we survive this, I want you to live with me."
Fiddleford choked down his coffee and turned to Stanford in surprise, the two were sitting at the kitchen table and were the only ones in the room. Dipper had positioned himself in front of the TV, planning to spend the stormy day relaxing and watching a fake ghost hunting show. Mabel was with her friends Candy and Grenda, the trio of young girls running about somewhere.
The two older men had been enjoying a late morning, technically early afternoon now; completing the portal and their celebrations/ talking afterward having kept them up past sunrise. They would do what they had to that night, when the children were asleep and out of any harm's way.
They'd been silent for the last few minutes, just enjoying one another's company and the sound of light drizzling. Stan's sudden statement was really out of the blue for the former hobo.
"Ya mind runnin' that by me again hun?" Fiddleford's southern twang was all the more pronounced in his surprise.
"I said I want you to live with me if we make it out of this alive. Why do you look so surprised?"
Stan made a face, a slight blush coming to his cheeks. What, did the other still think he was kidding when he said he wouldn't let go this time? Stan had half a mind to throw the smaller man over his shoulder and find someone willing to marry them just so the other would get the hint.
Only death would tear him from Fiddleford now.
"Y-you want me to come live with you at the Shack? Really?" The smaller man couldn't believe it. A bit of giddy wonder welled up in his chest.
"Of course. I well-things are different now. And I'm not a big fan of sleeping alone. I just think it's time we stopped beating around the bush. I'll admit I wanted to ask this back then, but then everything happened and we weren't-. Can I just say it's been a long thirty years? Because it has been…without you and Stanley. The Apocalypse is coming. And I love you, so I want you around and safe. The kids won't mind, they really like you too. We could all hunker down together easily. Are you going to say anything?"
Stan was rambling, and he couldn't help it. The longer he spoke the more awkward he got and he couldn't believe that after all of these years Fiddleford could still make him get so tongue tied, even when just looking at him in surprise, like he was now.
Both were silent, staring at one another in the quiet kitchen, faces continuing to redden. The pitter patter of rain became more apparent as it began to pick up. Dipper could be heard talking to- presumably- his sister and her crew. He was voicing his negative opinions on one Pacifica Northwest.
Suddenly Fiddleford gave a small laugh, it wasn't a mocking one though. It held the sound of affectionate delight as it escaped. Fiddleford just couldn't believe how cute Stan still was when he got nervous; the young man in him had shown through during the entire confession.
Stan couldn't help his pout. He had been trying to plan how to ask and had just blurted it out instead. How old was he?
"Gee, thanks." He said a little sourly.
When Fiddleford finished his chuckle he smiled and said, "Sorry. I love you too. I would like very much to live with you Stanford. I have to admit, I don't much enjoy sleeping by myself either. And your bed is much more comfortable than my son's pull out couch."
The smaller man placed his hand over Stan's and the two shared a goofy grin, both lightly blushing. They leaned forward to share a kiss but were stopped when loud yells of excitement were heard from the living room.
Mabel's voice rang out, "Grenda get the glue gun! We're making dresses!"
They looked over in time to see Mabel run in, full of energy. She ran to a cabinet, opened the door and began rummaging through. A moment later she gave a sound of triumph and pulled out twine and masking tape. With a mad giggle she began to make her way back out.
"Where's the fire?" Asked Stan.
Mabel looked over at him and her eyes sparkled. "Pacifica's house is being haunted and it might ruin her family's big party tonight. So she's getting Dipper to investigate and he managed to get me, Grenda and Candy invited!"
She gave another cheer and ran out of the room.
"Should we be concerned about this?" Asked Fiddleford.
"Nah." Came Stan's reply.
He turned back to Fiddleford and gave a cheesy grin.
"Now where were we?"
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Stan grinned as he stood on the porch, he was waving the kids off and couldn't believe his luck. The timing was just too perfect. He knew that whatever happened, Dipper and Mabel could handle it. They would have to.
So now he only had to worry about Fiddleford and himself. And Stanley.
A roll of thunder directed him to look upward and he noted the increasingly bad weather. The clouds rumbled deeply at him.
"I hear ya buddy. I hear ya."
"Stanford, who are you talking to?" Fiddleford walked over, a screwdriver in his hand. He had been in the kitchen working on his computer for the last while.
Stan pointed a thumb at the general direction of outside.
"Ol' Kolus and his brother are doing their magic. Storm's brewin'."
Fiddleford raised a brow as he directed a look outside, he took in the increasingly inclement weather and thought it terribly appropriate for the current situation.
He put a hand on his hip and gave Stan a curious look.
"Stanford you never did tell me how a Jewish boy from New Jersey came to believe in the tales of the indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast."
Or why he was a Doomsday preparer.
The old con man's smile turned wry as he simply said, "Yeah, it's funny how things like that happen."
He then closed the door and asked, "I thought you were working on your computer?"
Fiddleford rolled his eyes and made a small noise of exasperation mixed with grudging acceptance. Of all the things about himself that Stan had shared with his lover, that bit of his past was not one of them. No matter when or where Fiddleford asked, Stan almost always replied in the same way:
It's funny how things like that happen.
Just as he had now, without skipping a beat. The smaller man had long ago accepted it, he knew when to let a sleeping dog lie.
With a sigh Fiddleford answered Stan's question, "I fixed it and have actually been going over the information I had stored in there. I came over here to tell you that we don't have a lot of time."
"I know that." Said Stan as the two of them headed over to the room with the repaired computer.
"I don't think you do." Answered Fiddleford cryptically.
Stan gave him a look as they entered the kitchen, the smaller man turned the computer around and revealed a set of bright red, ominous numbers counting down on its screen.
"That's how long we have." He said, resolutely.
"But that's-"
"I know. But that's what I have calculated. It's starting."
They stared at one another a moment and then Stan nodded his head. A look of determination setting on his face.
"All right, then there's no time to waste."
The two mobilized, gathering supplies and made their way down to the basement. Before Fiddleford knew it he was watching Stanford "gear up" for his jaunt through the portal. It had been agreed- after about an hour of whispered frantic arguing while in bed- that Fiddleford would man the portal while Stan went in alone.
They would keep in contact with a set of walkie-talkies Fiddleford and Stanley had made together long ago; Stan had kept them well cared for, just like the coffee machine. They were designed to be able to communicate through all sorts of interference and distance.
They hoped they'd be strong enough to cross dimensions.
Stan clenched his hands as he fit his trusty knuckle dusters onto his hands. He had gold plated them and imprinted protective symbols on them, they were of the same kind that decorated his shoulder.
He had tricks up his sleeve and a radio on his belt.
There was only one thing left to do.
He turned to Fiddleford and watched him for a moment, he was going over his notes and his shoulders were trembling just the slightest bit.
"Everything all right?" Asked Stan, knowing it wasn't.
Fiddleford jolted away from his notebook and blinked. "Yes, j-just double checking before we get started."
He didn't want things to fuck up like last time. He couldn't lose Stan too. Not like this.
The former hobo had once boasted that he couldn't be broken because he was already a wreck inside. But there was a truth Fiddleford McGucket had begun to realize- he may be made of nothing but jagged pieces now, but those individual parts could still shatter magnificently.
Stan noted the smaller man's worried expression and motioned for him to come over. Fiddleford did as bid and buried his face into Stan's chest when the other enveloped him into the safety of his arms. Stan buried his nose in Fiddleford's hair and the two just held one another like that for a few moments.
"Please be careful." Said Fiddleford as he moved his head to look up at the love of his life.
"I'll do my best." Answered Stan softly as he looked down at his.
Fiddleford lifted his heels and the two shared a kiss, it was just lip on lip contact but the emotion invested in it from both sides made it so much more. When they separated Stan reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold medallion on a chain.
It looked much like the kind Stan himself wore, but it was daintier in design. Fiddleford saw that there was something stamped on the pendant, it was the symbol Stan had tattooed on his shoulder.
"Stanford what-?"
"Just a little peace of mind." He said, chuckling a bit, as he fitted the neck wear over Fiddleford's head.
The smaller man furrowed his brows as the medallion settled on his neck, feeling suddenly odd. For a moment he sagged in Stan's strong hold. But then he righted himself and gave Stan a look, who was giving him an expectant smile.
He felt a small sense of loss, as if a presence that had been there was now gone. It was a good feeling.
"Feel better?" Asked Stan.
"Much." Answered Fiddleford, astounded.
Stan felt sure there would be no last minute surprises.
"Alright then, let's do this."
There was a final squeeze of hands and then the two took their places. Fiddleford flipped his book open and Stan pulled the lever. As the portal came to life the storm outside grew worse, the sky thundering and rolling as several momentous events transpired underneath it.
A young man was doing his best to right a wrong done long ago.
Two old lovers were going to rescue someone lost.
And one Gideon Gleeful was summoning himself a dream demon. Not to bargain, mind, but to keep him busy while two of his favorite pawns brought him that little bit closer to defeat and his opponent closer to her terrible victory.
He grinned a mad grin as the special circle he made came to life. He did not fall asleep, and Bill did not materialize into the world. Instead the small container the young boy had placed at the center of the ceremony- a mason jar especially prepared for temporary demon capture- filled with blue flames. They flashed and flickered, raging anger radiated from the circle.
"Sorry Bill, but a deal is a deal. And a deal with a Lady is especially a thing to keep."
He laughed as the candles flickered and the jar moved just a bit, Bill was fighting against his confines but Gideon knew they would hold. At least for long enough.
Miles away Fiddleford and Stan stared at the swirling tunnel of clouds and sky, Stan doubled checked the rope they had tied around his waist to make sure it was secure.
He doubted it would do much but it was Fiddleford's final peace of mind. He couldn't rob him of that.
He climbed up the ladder and stepped up on to the rim of the gateway. No going back now.
Stan stepped through the portal, hands up and prepared for anything. His breath escaped him as he took in what he saw.
Stars.
Galaxies and comets drifted by. It looked as if he had just stepped out into space itself.
In a way he had.
He looked down and saw that he stood on a single bit of dark floating rock, a magnificent and endless expanse yawned underneath. He took a few steadying breathes. It was cold.
'Relax, remember your training.' He thought to himself. He looked behind himself and gazed at the portal, it was a simple circle of crackling and zapping electric blue.
His shoulder warmed slightly, he was protected.
"Stanford, are you all right in there." Fiddleford's voice crackled over the radio, distant but surprisingly crystal clear.
Stan clicked on his end and said, "So far so good. Sweet Moses Fidd's, this place is nuts. Looks just how you described your dream."
"Really?!"
"Yup. You're comin' in pretty clear. How am I on your end?"
"Crystal."
"Excellent."
"Where exactly are you Stanford?"
"I'm on a bit of rock that leads to nowhere right now. Everything else is just…space. Like one of those pictures."
"How are you going to get around? I don't think you can just float about…" Fiddleford trailed off, Stan could almost hear the gears of his mind turning together as he thought.
Stan walked toward the edge and on a whim stamped his foot twice, almost on cue- probably on cue- stairs unfolded themselves from beneath the rock. They were smooth planes fitted together to make stairs, colored a familiar flame blue.
"Don't worry, I got it."
"What do you mean?"
"I found the stairs!" Grinned Stan as he started carefully down.
"Be serious!" An underlying smattering of static accompanied Fiddleford's mortified words.
"I am. Found some stairs, so either I'm expected or interdimensional, demonic triangles like having unneeded stairs."
The line was silent for a beat.
"Stanford please be careful. I'm here with the rope when you need me."
"Noted." Came Stan distracted reply.
He looked around as he descended the flight of impossible steps. He knew he was in the heart of enemy territory but he had no choice but to go forward, he had to find his brother.
'Did you see this when you got sucked in here Lee? Would you even still be around this area, if it's even the same one?'
Questions flew through Stan's mind as he travelled down.
"Stanford do you know where the stairs lead?"
Fiddleford's words cut through his edgy thoughts. Thankfully. Stan looked over and noted that the stairs came to an end far below, but the details were lost to him.
"Too high up to tell where the stairs are taking me, but they do end. How's the machine handling this?"
There was a crackle and pop on the other end, signaling that the channel was open but Fiddleford wasn't saying anything. Stan listening to it for a moment more and frowned a bit.
"Fidd's?"
More static and empty air. Stan stopped, halfway down the stairs, and listened. There was the sound of muffled movement, but it was far off.
"Fiddleford?" Stan couldn't help the worried edge in his voice. His feet had already taken him back up a step before he caught himself, now was not the time to go storming back like Galahad when he didn't need to.
He heard some far off clanging and then a large faraway yell of "God forsaken valve! Turn you rusted over bastard! Turn!"
Stan listened to this with a mix of surprise, apprehension, relief and just a touch of a laugh. Despite himself.
Finally Fiddleford picked up the radio, he was audibly out of breath.
"Sorry, some pressure was building up and the one thing I needed to manipulate to fix it was the one that was stuck. System is stable. For now"
"And that's why I wanted you there to keep an eye on it." Said Stan, using smugness to hide his worry.
"Shut up Stanford. Any details on your destination yet?"
Stan suppressed a relieved chuckle as he took a look over. He had been moving at a good pace, the usual aches and pains of his body absent while in the netherworld he traveled through. From his halfway point he looked over; from there he saw another rocky outcropping at the foot of the stairs, but it was much larger than the one at the top.
It was more like a rocky landscape than anything. There were triangles, cones, small pyramids and one eyed statues everywhere. His shoulder felt warmer and he could feel heat buildup in his knuckle dusters. The magic in them was reacting. A large pyramid appeared in the distance. Even as far away as he was, Stan could make out the eye etched at the top of the structure.
The walkie-talkie buzzed and fizzled.
"Stanford?"
"I'm in the lion's den."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh yeah."
"D-do you think he's there waiting for you?"
"I doubt it. If he was he would have shown up by now, or at least made the stairs an escalator or something. Triangle's too much of a ham for this kind of subtly shit."
"Then where is he?"
"That's the million dollar question." Muttered Stan as he stepped off of the stairs.
He looked back at them, half expecting them to fold away or diffuse into a cloud of bubbles or some other such nonsense. But they remained there, immovable and solid.
It made him more uncomfortable than if they had disappeared.
Stan untied the rope from his waist and walked cautiously, without much of a better idea he made his way toward the giant pyramid. He frowned at the landscape, giant eyes and other hieroglyphics were etched everywhere; abstract shapes littered the area. The statues were of a variety of shapes and sizes, some defied proper physics and others were even in an array of colors.
The only sounds were the ones he made and that of his shaky communication channel with Fiddleford.
"Yeesh. This guy needs to hire an interior decorator."
Fiddleford's only response was an exasperated groan.
Stan let out a small laugh as he rounded a corner, happy that he had back up in his own reality. He didn't notice when the eye of a statue turned to look at him, it watched until he was out of view.
"Any sign of Stanley yet?"
"None so-"Stan cut himself off.
Stan had walked into the edges of a large clearing. In the middle were a set of pillars set into a circle. At the top of each one a different figure stood. Stan squinted his eyes to see them clearly.
There was a star, a pine tree, a question mark, a heart, the symbol from his old fez-
Stan's eyes cut down to the center of the pillars. He couldn't believe what he saw. There, chained to a wall, was a limp form. It had the messy brown locks and slightly burned lab coat of one Stanley Pines.
"S-stanford?"
"Fidds I think I found him."
"Are you sure?!"
"Not yet."
Stan ran over, heart hammering in his chest. As he neared the figure he saw that it wore the old brown shoes, even older jean pants, and one of the just slightly newer black shirts that Stanley had favored to wear. The body was held in place by thick, glowing chains. They burned a bright blue, same as the stairs.
More eyes and glyphs were etched on to the wall around the individual, right above the hanging head a six fingered hand and a pair of glasses had been chiseled into place.
Stan gripped his knuckle dusters, the sigils on them lighting up with power. He knew his tattoo was doing the same. He stopped at the pillar with the question mark atop it and looked around himself, the landscape looked as dead and motionless as before. He looked over to what looked like his brother, the only motion he could see was that of the chest.
It moved in and out slowly. He could hear the slight breathes easily.
"Stan?"
"Nothing's come by to kill me yet. And it looks like Stanley."
Fiddleford hummed as Stan edged along the pillar and then slowly made his way to the center of the circle. Body rigid and sweat beginning to form on his brow from the stress Stan carefully reached forward, he placed a hand upon the slowly moving chest. The symbols on his duster flared brightly and then dulled.
The figure didn't dissipate, didn't morph or shift. Which it would have had it been fake, Stan would have activated any trap by touching the possibly apparition.
It was real.
He was real.
Stanley was real.
"Stanley! Stanley can you hear me?"
Stan shook his brother's shoulder, choking back tears. He could hear Fiddleford's stunned, relieved reaction from his radio. When the old conman garnered no response he lifted his brother's head in his hands, the face was untouched by time.
He was still young; had the face of a man just getting into his thirties. He even still had the bruise that Stan himself had given his brother the day before the accident, the final word of an argument that Stan had never stopped regretting.
It looked like he was sleeping.
"I'm going to get you out of here 'Lee." Said Stan.
He carefully let go of his brother's face and gripped one of the lengths of the flaming blue chain that held him in place with both hands. With a hard pull Stan broke it, the many links scattered and then faded away as they fell. They were no match for his brand of magic.
With ease Stan caught his brother and hoisted him up in his arms, princess style. As he quickly ran back the way he had come the sigils of the hand and the glasses upon the now lone wall began to glow.
Stan huffed as he high tailed it, his feet flying over the ground. He didn't know what the fine print was to this rescue, but he knew things wouldn't- couldn't- be so simple. The lack of visible response or security made alarm bells ring in his head.
"It can't be as simple as this." Intoned Fiddleford, suspicion and slight panic coloring his voice.
"I know what you mean. There has to be a guard or a-a-ah!" His sentence was caught off as a sudden obstacle entered his path.
A bunch of nearby shapes suddenly collided together not ten feet ahead of him, they shifted about until they made a vaguely humanoid shape that towered over Stan, a cone with a single eye etched on it acting as the head.
"Speak of the devil."
"What's happening?"
"Bill's anti-theft system."
An arm that ended in a large, heavy looking sphere crashed down upon the old man. Stan dodged to the side, rolling on the ground and managed to make it back to his feet in a single move. He kept running. He would have loved to go toe to toe with the golem but the point was to get Stanley and himself back out of the portal, not waste time fighting.
The thing pursued, taking large crashing steps. Stan huffed as he tried to keep up his speed. He may not feel his age but he could feel his body beginning to tire. Fiddleford was firing questions and worries at him over the radio, but Stan didn't have the breath to answer them.
He picked up his pace as the thing began to shoot energy from the eye on its head, the beams left deep holes and trenches in the rocky ground. Stan used every bit of his experience to duck and weave out of the way. His protection was strong, but not strong against that.
Or at least he didn't think so.
He ran up the stairs, rather surprised they had not disappeared at this point. He wasn't when he looked back and saw that the golem was easily climbing up, it was just a flight's worth of steps behind him. Summoning all he had Stan ran up, eyes on the glowing portal.
With a leap he got to the rock at the top, not a second later a high focused beam of energy burned the step he had just vacated. It burst into blue flames and then faded away. Stan didn't stop to watch.
With a final burst of energy Stan threw himself and his brother through the portal. They crashed to the floor on the other side.
"Stanford! Stanley!" Fiddleford ran over to them, breathless.
"Shut the damn thing off!" Yelled Stan from the floor.
He let out a sign of tired relief when Fiddleford pulled the lever, the machine gave a final sputter before going out. The rope fell, the end burned off with the shutting off of the portal. The normal lab lights came on.
"Is he alright?" Asked Fiddleford as he came over.
"Seems so, though I can't get him to wake up."
Stan had laid his brother out on the ground, his body as limp as ever.
Fiddleford sucked in a breath as he got a look at him.
"Lordy! He looks like he hasn't aged a day!"
"I don't think he has."
The two older men shared a look, they had achieved their goal. But it seemed their troubles were not over yet. Fiddleford slowly checked Stanley over. He was no doctor but he still knew a thing or two. He checked Stanley's pulse- normal- and checked his eye dilation with a little light- normal- while Stan looked on.
Stan let his eyes wander to one of his brother's six fingered hands. He gazed down at it while he thought of what do to next. What would they do if they couldn't rouse Stanley? A hospital or any other authorities were out of the question. Stan didn't like the thought of having to travel out to one of the few remaining safe places to have his brother checked out, and he especially didn't want anyone coming to the Shack.
What would they do?
One of Stanley's fingers twitched. Stan blinked, unsure of what he had just seen.
It moved again. And then others.
There was a groan and a shift of limbs.
"Stanley!" Both Fiddleford and Stan yelled out as Stanley Pines finally returned to consciousness.
With another groan the missing man opened his eyes and squinted.
"W-what happened? Doc? 'Ford? Is that really you?"
"Stanley! It is so good to see you." Said Fiddleford, wiping back a tear.
"Wish I could say the same. Do you know what happened to my glasses?" Stanley groped about him as he asked.
"I'll get them." Said Stan as he quickly made his way over to the desk near the portal.
"You guys sound odd." Stanley sat up, he ran a hand through his hair.
He squinted his eyes as he tried to get a good look at Fiddleford.
"You look odd too."
"That's a word for it." Said Stan as he returned.
Wordlessly Stanley took the offered lenses and placed them on his face. He gazed at his now older brother and former assistant and his thick eyebrows lifted high up on his forehead with surprise.
"Fuck." He intoned eloquently.