HAT: Hehe, I don't reuse disclaimers and other stuff... NONSPECIFIC EXCUSE! *flips glass cup gently with an angry face and then jumps into Stan's car* Floor it!
Stan: Y'know, you're crazy right? *drives away*
HAT: Shuddup, Lee-Lee.
Stan: ... shut up.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls or its characters, just this plot (which will reemerge... eventually) and the OCs. Onward, Aoshima!
It's the anniversary and damn it all if he doesn't want to curl in a ball and stay asleep (maybe even allow himself to cry a little). Nope, not today. He doesn't have Soos or Wendy come into work- as usual this day of the year- and manages to calm down enough to show face to his family and eat an actual breakfast (Stanford and the twins had dogged him for not eating enough and one of them was always present to make sure that he is eating).
"Good morning, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel says merrily.
He nearly winces, but instead smiles and ruffles her hair. "Good morning, sweetie... what've you got there?"
"I drew a picture of the snadger fighting a liopleurodon!"
How does she even know what that is? Stanley wonders. "That's nice." He grabs a bowl and the cereal, but before he pours it he checks the milk. He's glad that it's still good and that there's enough for another bowl. Once the carton's gone he sits down at the table and begins to eat before realizing that his brother isn't at the table. "Where's 'Ford?"
"He's chasing a raccoon around the house," Mabel replies.
Dipper nods. "Yeah. After we made a comment about how you'd be able to catch it, he was determined to get it out of the house without any help."
Stanley huffs. "That sounds like him."
There's a loud bang upstairs followed quickly by Stanford's voice. "I'm okay!"
Stanley contemplates going up to see what's going on, but quickly discards the idea: Stanford's a grown man and can take care of himself. If he needs help, he'll ask... unless he's like Stanley... then he'll keep quiet about it and try to hide it.
Shit, Stanley thinks while getting up with a grunt and going up the stairs to see if his brother's alright when he hears shouting coming from the gift shop. What the hell's going on in this gift shop today? No one's even supposed to be here, today.
He glances up at the stairs and mentally apologizes for not running up to help his brother and rushes into the gift shop to find the door wide open and Wendy being dragged in a bear hug by a teenaged boy towards the door while trying to stay put.
Anger boils inside of Stan's chest- how dare this brat even think that he can come in here and harass anyone under this roof? How dare this teenaged boy put his hands on a young woman? Has this child lost his ever-loving mind?
The man walks forward so that he's a couple of paces away from the two and shouts, "Hey! Let'er go!"
The teenager- he's got brown hair and hazel eyes along with really pale skin- scowls. "What're you gonna do about it, old man?"
Stanley darts forward and grabs the boy by the back of the neck and grabs one of his pinkies and pulls it back towards his write, making the boy cry out and release the redhead. Stanley glances toward Wendy and sees a red mark on her left cheek which does absolutely nothing to kill the need for violence in the man, but he reminds himself that he can't kill the boy- too many questions and Wendy's a witness- he can't have any witnesses.
"Listen, kid, if you so much as think about touching her again, I promise I will break every bone in your body- understand?" When the teenager just sneers Stanley pinches a pressure point on his shoulder to force him to relax and go unconscious. Once he's sure the boy's pacified he turns to the redhead and sees her more shaken up than he's seen her in a long time. He puts a hand on her shoulder and gently takes her jaw and turns her so that he can inspect her cheek. It's red, but there's a small chance it won't bruise. He places his other other hand on her other shoulder and looks her in the eyes. "Are you okay?"
She laughs without humor. "Not really..."
He doesn't question why she didn't run to her dad or her large brothers- they're probably out doing male bonding- and instead puts a hand on the top of her head. "You wanna stay here and hang out with the twins? I'm sure they'll love it."
Wendy nods. "Yeah... thanks, Mr. Pines."
"Yeah, yeah, get your tail in there while I deal with the mess in here," he grumbles and is shocked when a grateful kiss lands on his cheek- something he's not used to even with Mabel at times. He looks away from her and grumbles. "Alright, kid, that's enough affection for one day."
She laughs and walks out of the room while Stanford grabs some rope and ties up the boy to the totem pole outside. He calls the police and informs them what happened and tells them that the boy is right outside for them to pick up and hangs up. Normally he wouldn't involve the police in anything and deal with things himself, but he's decided that the boy deserves a little time in the county jail.
He remembers his brother and he immediately runs upstairs and goes to the bathroom where he finds Stanford cursing up a storm while clutching his left knee with one hand and rubbing the back of his head with the other.
"Stan?"
"Geez, poindexter, what'd you do to yourself?" Stan demands while walking over to inspect his twin's wounds.
"Nothing," the scrawnier twin grumbles.
All emotion drains from Stan's face and he gives his brother a look that he'd normally give the kids. "Stanford."
With a sigh Stanford says, "I fell from the rafters."
"Not why would you go and do a thing like that?" Demands the larger of the two while lying the trench coat to the side and reaching for the sweater. His brother flinches away and Stanley frowns. "C'mon, poindexter, you know how this works. Lemme see."
"I'm fine," Stanford insists.
"That doesn't do anything to make me think that you're anywhere close to alright," Stanley snaps and then sighs while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Listen, Stanford, I've been real patient with you since you got back- I really have- but my patience is thin already. Now take off that sweater or I'm gonna rip it offa ya."
Stanford observes his brother for a few moments and then sighs in defeat. "Fine."
He takes off his sweater and immediately guilt stabs at Stanleys' heart. There are scars all over his body- one in particular seems nasty along his left side. Instead of demanding where they came from and freaking out, he stays calm and focuses on finding any wounds. He notices a nasty bruise developing on his back and prods at it to be sure nothing's broken. He moves onto the legs and checks the ankles to make rue they aren't broken or strained. Once he's done with his inspection he stands up with a grunt- why does everything hurt when one gets old?- and tosses the sweater back at his brother.
"There, done. You're fine," he grunts and moves to walk away, but suddenly a hand's on his right shoulder.
"Wait... Aren't you gonna..." He seems to be struggling to find the right words.
"'Ford, there's something called 'old age' that does this wonderful thing called 'make you wise' if you let it," Stanley says, moving his hands in an exaggerated movement. "I know better than to question where old wounds come from."
Stanford's eyes focus on his brother's right shoulder and he grimaces. "I-"
"See you at dinner," Stanley grunts, not wanting to hear another word- he's already remembering the moment when he got burned and many more terrible moments in his life that left scars from physical to emotional.
Stop thinking about it, Stanley thinks as he feels pressure on his chest at the thought of what today is.
"Grunkle Stan, someone's trying to say you ordered a birthday cake!" Dipper calls.
Shit, shit, shit, he thinks and rushes to the door and finds the deliverer standing there with a confused frown. Normally no one's around when this happens. The cake he has brought to his house every year is delivered at the insistence of the baker- he got the message after the third year- because he remembers what this day is for Stanley.
"Hey, Mark," Stan says with a small, nervous smile.
Mark, the delivery "boy" (he's twenty-seven), holds out the cake. "Here you go, Mr. Pines."
"Thanks," grumbles the older man as he takes the cake and then closes the door as the younger turns and walks away. He looks through the plastic and thanks God that it doesn't say anything. "Looks like we've got cake!"
"He said your ordered it," Dipper says.
"Well... I figured I missed too many of your birthdays so I decided to make up for it. Go get your sister and we can slice into this bad boy!"
Stanley puts candles in it and lights them with the lighter he has hidden away in his fez. He doesn't know why he keeps the lighters for anything, but for candles and fireworks anymore- he hasn't smoked in twenty years.
Mabel gasps as she enters the kitchen and rushes forward. "We get a birthday outside of our birthday!"
"Yep. You two get to blow out the candles."
Wendy enters the room with Dipper with an amused smile. "Sweet."
"C'mon Dipper, let's make a wish!" Mabel insists.
Dipper laughs. "Okay, okay."
They stand on top of the chairs and lean toward the cake. After counting to three the two of them blow out the candles. Stanley quickly gets the candles and throws them away before cutting into the cake and giving everyone a piece- even Stanford when he comes downstairs.
Sometime during the merry chatter Stanley walks out of the house and sits on the couch on the back porch with his mind consumed with why today should be a happy day instead of one of the most depressing days of the entire summer season.
He really wants a cigarette right now.
Twenty-six.
That's how old his daughter would've been today if-
He shakes his head and tries to focus on the scenery in front of him. He had to gather himself- that's why he came out here in the first place. After several minutes he feels he has his emotions gathered enough to go back inside and hide his emotions.
The rest of the night was spent care free and Stanley ended up having to drop Wendy off at her home. She thanked him again and he brushed it off as usual and then drove home. Once the kids were in bed he didn't bother with even watching TV for an hour like he normally would've and went back to his room with weariness weighing him down.
Just as he slips off he allows a tear to slip out as he thinks, Happy birthday, Karen.
HAT: This sort of went off track and I can only say that it's because I'm making it up as I go... By the way... is it sad that when I read in reviews "I finally cracked" I'm all like *rubs hands together and laughs maniacally* "Yeeeesss! It's working! *lifts up hands with fingers curled in "it's alive!" pose* It's working!" or something like that...
Stanford: Yes.
HAT: No one asked you, 'Ford!
Stanford: *raises eyebrow* HAT... I say this with as much professionalism as possible... you need help.
HAT: ... and your point iiiiiiiiiissssss...?
Stanford: *face palms* N-never mind... J-just... review everyone. *walks out*
HAT: *follows him* Fooordsyyyyyyy!
Stanford: And for the love of- *frustrated noise* Stop calling me that!
HAT: *snickers* Nope!