The call for the family meeting didn't come until that evening. Ford couldn't bring himself to interrupt Mabel and Dipper's party planning. After the guest list had been cut down, Stan said he could make an outdoor party at the Shack doable, on the condition that Dipper leave the journals inside, and he reserved any and all rights to punt gnomes like a football if they showed up, muttering something about needing a fence.
Ford spent much of the time inside, planning on both the family meeting and how to make a fence double as a ward. He managed to figure out both by the time Stan ushered everyone inside for dinner, saying he was ordering out pizza.
"Who wants what?" he said, picking up the phone. "We can get two instead of one this time."
Dipper looked impressed. "Splurging on pizza? What's the occasion?" he asked, then ducked when Stan swiped at his head with the phone book.
"The celebration of you not being a smart-aleck, but apparently we're celebrating too early, now who wants what?"
"Canadian bacon and pineapple," Mabel and Ford spoke up at the same time, then paused, looking at each other.
"YOU like pineapple on your pizza too?" Mabel gushed, eyes sparkling. Behind her, Dipper and Stan grimaced.
"Pineapple on pizza is a sin against all that is good," Dipper said.
"Agreed," Stan concurred. "I'll stick with sausage and pepperoni, thanks." Dipper agreed to that, and the two pizzas were ordered. Mabel gave Ford a somewhat comforting look.
"Don't mind them," she said, kicking her legs. "They also think it's wrong to dunk your fries in your milkshake."
"…what's wrong with THAT?" Ford asked. Stan grimaced.
"Oh, ew, I remember when you used to do that, it was gross," he said, digging a few sodas out of the fridge. "Or when you put mayo on a hot dog—"
"Okay, NOW you're just nitpicking, Stanley!"
"IF IT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR A HAMBURGER, IT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR A HOT DOG!" Mabel shouted vindictively.
Dipper snorted, cracking open his soda. "You're both gross. Your food choices are bad, and you should feel bad."
"Joke's on you, bro-bro, you're gonna have to eat his cooking when you're living here!" Mabel shot back, sticking her tongue out at him. Ford looked at Dipper, frowning when he saw the boy's expression fall a little.
"Heh heh….yeah," Dipper said, sipping his soda quietly.
Everyone piddled about until the pizzas came, and the two sides of the table were split up between Stan and Dipper with their sausage and pepperoni, and Mabel and Ford with Canadian bacon and pineapple. Ford ate in silence, absently eating his pizza crust-first as he watched Stan and Dipper discuss the upcoming season of Ducktective and the possibility of Ducktective's brother being a full cast member.
Dipper went for another slice of pizza rolling his eyes when he looked at Mabel. "Mabel, cant you eat your pizza like a normal person?" he asked. Ford glanced over at Mabel, who was trying to fit the whole crust of the backwards-facing pizza in her mouth at once. Mabel chewed off a piece and swallowed.
"Normal is SO overrated," she retorted. Ford felt his cheeks heat up, discretely turning his pizza around in his hand, but not discretely enough, when he heard Stan snort and give him a 'gotcha' look. He huffed, biting into the slice, but felt a little blossom of warmth spread in his chest at Mabel sharing his affinity for odd food practices.
Maybe he'd bonded with Dipper more, but Mabel WAS the first interaction with the two he had. He'd been honestly impressed with her ready acceptance of anything outside the ordinary. He noticed a bit more now that he's had a couple days to pay attention. While Dipper appreciated the curiosity of the Gravity Falls weirdness, Mabel was much more accepting of it.
He'd heard of her relationships with a zombie (which turned out to be the gnomes looking for a queen), a merman, and apparently a couple of vampires. It was his understanding that the Gnome Queen thing didn't work out because she wanted to test the dating pool waters before settling down.
Nothing about Gravity Falls seemed to surprise her, and whatever did, she was so quick to accept as a part of life. Fairies had a nail salon in the forest? No problem. Lilliputtians ran the mini-golf downtown? Okay. Giant floating island head leaving teeth everywhere? Poke it with a stick, why not?
Unicorns turn out to be jerks? Punch it in the face.
Ford felt that he could really kick himself for selling Mabel short so soon. She wasn't unobservant of the weirdness, she was accepting of it. Like it was just something else to live with. Someone like HER on his research team…
Right, stay focused. Family talk. Remember the family talk.
He opened his mouth to announce it, but Dipper spoke up first, sounding like he had been holding it in for a while. "…Great-Uncle Ford, I don't think I'm ready for an apprenticeship."
The table went silent, the other three Pines staring at Dipper in surprise. Dipper's face went red, his jaw twitching from the desire to chew on something, as he normally did when stressed. He wrung his hands on the table, his eyes going downcast in almost shame. Mabel put her pizza slice down, frowning.
"…Dipper? What's wrong?" she asked, reaching over to touch his arm. Dipper's hands wrung around themselves tighter.
"I'm just…I'm not ready…" he restated, still not looking up. "Great-Uncle Ford, going into that alien ship SCARED ME. NOTHING prepared me for that at all, and the fact that we made it out alive was dumb luck!" His voice cracked slightly, and he buried his burning face in his hands. "I haven't even gone through puberty yet, and I've already seen and done things most people YOUR age haven't gone through!"
He sniffled slightly, scrubbing at his face with his hands. "'m sorry, I…I don't wanna disappoint you, and…and I LOVE Gravity Falls, I DO…but I'm not READY for that! I'm…I'm sorry—"
"NO!" Ford winced at how loud his voice was. "Dipper, no…please…don't apologize." He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "…You're right."
Dipper lifted his head, his eyes brimming with tears. He quickly wiped his face dry. "…wait, what?"
Ford sighed. "…I was wrong to assume anything, Dipper," he said. "Worst of all to assume you were ready for this life of mine. It was…so wrong of me to put you through that. And…you're TWELVE. You don't even know if this is what you want to do for the rest of your life." He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "…I shouldn't be taking your childhood from you, or trying to mold you into something that I want. That's…it's not up to me." He looked up, giving Dipper an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Dipper…don't you apologize for wanting to do things your way, at your own pace." He gave Dipper a slightly crooked smile. "That's…THAT would be suffocating."
Dipper looked about ready to faint right into his unfinished slice of pizza, but he instead jumped out of his seat and scurried over to Ford, hugging him tightly. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you…" he mumbled over and over again.
Ford hugged Dipper back, smiling brighter. He could see Mabel look like Christmas came early, before her gaze went to Stan and the happiness waned slightly. Oh, yes. He'd have to be having another talk soon too.
Having agreed to talk more and work out the details tomorrow, Dipper and Mabel were sent upstairs for bed. Ford glanced over at Stan, who was tidying up the kitchen.
"…Stanley?" he said quietly, waiting until he had his brother's attention before nodding to the porch door. "…Can we talk?"
Stan sighed, nodding and heading outside, sitting back on the worn couch. Ford followed suit, staring out at the darkness of the forest, hearing several creatures sound off at the same time. He could name them all.
The twins alternated between glancing at each other and back out at the darkness for a good while before Stan spoke up. "…That was…a good thing you did, Stanford," he said quietly. "…Kid's too young to be shied away from social interaction…and full-time away from his family."
Ford swallowed, nodding a little. "Yes," he replied. "…I admittedly did not think that through. Thirty years alone skews one's perspective."
"Preaching to the choir," Stan muttered gruffly, sitting back. "…Stanford…is that what I was when we were young?" His eyes remained pinned out at the forest. "…Suffocating? Did…did you feel like I was taking your choice for the future away from you?"
Ford felt as though a weight had been dropped in his gut, one filled with guilt and shame. "…A little," he admitted. "But…it's not like I made things easier by keeping quiet about it and reevaluating my future behind your back…or not encouraging you to have more than one option."
Stan's jaw tightened, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. "Yeah," he finally said. "…Would've been nice to know that we weren't on the same page before our senior year. Hell, Stanford…by that point, we weren't even in the same book." He glanced at Ford out of the corner of his eye. "…You could've told me, Ford. I woulda listened. I woulda been disappointed, might've even sulked for a while…but I woulda listened."
He rubbed his arms, frowning. "You wanna know why I was so against you going?" he spoke up, his voice dropping in volume. "…When you won the science fair, I was so damn proud of you. For once, it wasn't my fists that were makin' people stop lookin' at your hands to see just YOU…it was YOU that did it. And I was so PROUD. I've ALWAYS been proud of you, Sixer. Not once was I jealous of you…" He swallowed hard.
"…it wasn't jealousy, Ford…I swear to god it wasn't…I was AFRAID. I wasn't…READY for us to be apart. You were geared up to go, and Ma and Pops were so proud of you and the principal basically called me worthless…" His voice began to shake.
"You…heard that?" Ford asked, feeling the weight in his stomach get heavier.
"I was right outside the door, Stanford, of COURSE I heard. And…you didn't exactly stand up for me. And that scared me even more. It was like you were already gone, and I was grasping at straws for SOMETHING to cling to. And when I couldn't…I got mad."
"And you broke my project."
"NOT ON PURPOSE!" Stan reeled in his voice, taking several deep breaths. "…I just hit the table," he said. "I hit the table, and a panel fell off. I put it back on and hoped for the best. I thought you would know me enough to KNOW that I would NEVER purposely sabotage you. But that was that. It was over. Childhood, dreams, brother, gone."
"…Because we never talked," Ford said, staring at his hands. "…funny, the advice we give the kids, that we don't even take ourselves."
Stan snorted, staring up at the bug zapper on the porch roof. "…still cant decide if it's because I've lived through enough to give it, or because I know we're a lost cause and nothing can change that." He sighed, closing his eyes. "…I'm tired, Ford. Ten years, I hope for a call of truce, and instead I get a 'take the book and get away from me'. Thirty years, I just hope to see you alive again, and I get a punch to the face. I'm tired. And whether you think so or not…I think I deserve a break. I'm too old to hope for the hopeless anymore."
Ford swallowed a lump in his throat, putting his face in his hands. How had he missed THIS? Stanley being so desperate for contact with him, he came running the moment Ford needed him, even after over ten years of resentful silence. So desperate, he risked the universe just to get him back. But now that desperation was at its end. He could hear it in the weariness of Stanley's voice.
He sighed, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his sweater, sitting up. "Stanley," he said quietly, "…I said I wanted my name and my house back. But since the majority of our lives have been ruined because of a failure to communicate…I should reiterate." He looked at his twin, whose eyes remained stubbornly shut. "I want my house back. I want my name back. I want my brother back."
Stan's eyes slowly opened as he sat up straight and stared at Ford. "…what?" His expression seemed to be shifting rapid-fire between hopeful and cautiously suspicious. Ford's hand twitched before it slowly reached over and touched Stanley's shoulder.
"…I'm telling you…that if you want…you can stay," he said slowly. "No…misunderstandings." His fingers flexed slightly into Stan's jacket. "…the thought of kicking you out never occurred to me, Stanley, I promise it didn't…but it's taken me some time to fill in the gaps of the past thirty years and realize just how much you've sacrificed." He swallowed hard. "…Thank you."
There was a heavy silence now, and Ford swore even the forest creatures quieted down some. It took him a moment to see in the dim lighting of the porch that Stan's face was wet. He was crying.
Sweet Moses, he made his brother cry. "Stanley, no, please don't cry! I didn't—I didn't mean to—" He was cut off when Stan grabbed his arm and jerked him forward to hug him tightly. His body froze at the contact; Dipper hugging him was one thing, but this was completely different.
This was HIS brother. And the last time they were this close, they were fighting. But now…
Oh god, was he crying? No, no, no…stop the tears, stop them, stop them…!
Screw it.
He hugged Stanley back, giving in to the dam of tears breaking.
He was forty-odd years overdue for it.