A/N:There is a mention of concentration camps and antiquated ways of referring to the LGBTQ+ community in this chapter. In keeping with the times that Stan was raised and the communities he might have encountered growing up, I'm deciding to use these terms until he can get some education from the kids. Personally, I may have him use 'queer' to define himself since that's the term I use for myself. Just a heads up.
"Dipper, where's your sister?"
"... who?"
Stan gave his nephew an unimpressed look and crossed his arms expectantly.
"I don't know! She didn't tell me! And, plus, I told her not to!"
"Oh dude," Soos chuckled from where he and Wendy were looking through the new magazines. "You folded faster than a British butler. That's gotta be, like, a record or something!
"Don't know anything, huh?" Stan's eyes narrowed as he leaned in, blocking any escape routes. Dipper's eyes darted away from him nervously, trying to find anything to look at besides his grunkle. "Then you wouldn't happen to know… what Mabel's doing in the paper next to that greasy pickpocket Gideon?!"
"Oh yeah, it's a pretty big deal," Wendy said easily, showing Stan her phone's group chat. Between her and that little screen, ― which was a lot easier to see now ― Stan knew all he needed to know about the upcoming date.
"That little shyster has no right to date my great-niece!" Stan shouted, crumpling up the offending news article that had threatened his blood pressure when he saw it at the breakfast table.
Soos didn't help anything with his couple name speculations.
Stan hurried to don his jacket and grabbed his keys.
"This ends tonight!" He declared hotly. "I'm going right down to that little skunk's house and putting a stop to this! Right! Now!"
He snatched up his cane, slamming the door behind him. He'd club the little brat over the head if he had to!
He couldn't believe the nerve of those kids, sneaking around behind his back! And here he thought that he and Mabel had reached an understanding!
Moses, she really was too much like Ford.
Never listened to reason, either of them! Never thought that Stan knew what he was talking about. They just had to get out there and stick their noses where they didn't belong.
Well, he wasn't going to let Mabel go tripping through some strange portal because she was too curious for her own good!
Stan spun the wheel sharply, screeching into a parking space at the gate of the Gleeful home. He threw a rock at the billboard of Gideon as he stormed up the entryway.
The little hand stitched sign on the door only served to aggravate him further.
"I will pardon nothing!" Stan scoffed, slapping the sign off the door.
Buddy Gleeful opened the door, looking down at him with irritation.
"Can I help you, young man?"
Young man? What was Bud smoking in there―
Oh yeah.
Stan puffed up, wondering if he'd always had to look up slightly to meet Bud's eyes and put on his best 'grumpy, old man' expression. The effect was somewhat dampened by his babyface, but he pushed on anyway.
"Out of the way, bud.", he commanded. "I'm looking for Gideon."
Bud perked up at that.
"My goodness," he exclaimed, tone changing entirely. "You must be one of my boy's new little friends! Come in, come in! I haven't seen the boy around, but I'm sure he'll be back in just a minute. He's got a new little girlfriend he's just crazy about!"
"Yeah!" Stan stomped his foot, but couldn't get away from Bud dragging him inside. "Mabel's my nie― cousin!"
"Cousin!" Bud exclaimed in surprise, leaning down to look at Stan better. "Why, are you Stanford's son? I never knew he had a boy of his own! Well, apart from that Jesús fellow, but you are the spittin' image of him!"
"Yeah, yeah." Stan said uncomfortably, avoiding Bud's eyes. "Stanley Pines… The Second."
"Good to meet you, son!" Bud clapped him on the back jovially and ushered him to the sofa. "Sit down, sit down! Honey, would you mind gettin' us some lemonade? Young Stanley here must be parched, wearin' that suit in this heat! We wouldn't want our son's future in-law fallin' out on us, now would we?"
"Yes, dear." Mrs. Gleeful said blankly, pausing only a moment to peer at Stan before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Wait, what?" Stan blinked rapidly at the clown painting on the wall, temporarily in awe of the beautiful contrast the artist had used. He wouldn't mind having that hanging in the Shack… No― he couldn't get distracted now! "Future in-law?! Absolutely not!"
"Well, when the kids are singin' in harmony, what can you do?" Bud chuckled, accepting a glass of lemonade from his wife when she returned. "Thank you, hon."
"You're welcome, dear," Mrs. Gleeful said absently, her empty eyes settling on Stan. "Did you say your name was Stanley?"
"The Second!" Stan said hastily. "After my late uncle."
"From Jersey?"
"Yeah, from ― how do you know that?" Stan said sharply as he sat up.
"I've got a cousin from there," Mrs. Gleeful murmured, a little more life entering her expression. She looked almost wistful. "She was a bit older than me, but she used to have this boyfriend named Stanley. He was… a beautiful dancer."
Stan felt his hands get sweaty and he nearly dropped his lemonade. Which, speaking of ― when did she put that in his hand?
"I, uh―" he muttered anxiously. "I never met the guy. Think he died or something…"
"What a shame." Mrs. Gleeful sighed.
At least Bud looked just as uncomfortable as Stan felt.
"Honey, we don't talk about Carla, remember?" he said tightly as he fixed his car salesman's smile on Stan again. "So, my boy, how's your father doing? With my Gideon and y'all's Mabel hittin' it off so well, I'd like to talk to him about the fantastic business opportunity it could provide us with!"
"Whatchu talkin' about, buddy?" Stan fixed the man with an unimpressed glare.
"Think of it!" Bud exclaimed, spreading his arms theatrically. "The Mystery Shack and the Tent of Telepathy! Your father and I have been at each other's throats for far too long, yes, we have! This is our big chance to brush aside our rivalry and pool our collective profits, y'see?"
Stan felt his face light up at the idea of profits, but then he hesitated.
Any other time he might have jumped at the opportunity. It just sounded too good to be true. Which is what stopped him in his tracks.
The lemonade was all right, but it wasn't enough to distract him like a good cup of Colombian coffee might have.
And the idea of using Mabel as a business tool… just didn't settle with him. Maybe it was the lack of cataracts, but somehow, something about this whole setup just looked off to him. Like some kind of honeypot.
He'd dealt with those before, but it had been so long that being thrown back into the pits was startling. The whole thing reminded him of the weekend he'd met Marilyn in Vegas. She'd lured him in with sweet words and the promise of working together to get ahead in life ― and then she tried to steal his car.
"Tell Gideon," Stan began coldly. "That if I catch him steppin' out with Mabel again, raykh zol er zayn un hobn tsvey oytos. Eyn oyto zol loyfn khapn far im a dokter, un der tsveyter zol loyfn moydie tsu zayn, az s'iz shoyn nokh alemen!"
He stood up, relishing the stunned looks on the Gleefuls' faces and wondering just when the spirit of his late mother had decided to speak through him.
Eh, whatever. It was effective all the same.
Stan slammed the door on his way out, stomping on the flowers in the garden as he went.
He still had to find Mabel.
As long as his mother's spirit was infecting him, he might as well get in a good lecture.
Stan returned home to find a morose Mabel and a lobster in his fish tank.
"She doesn't know how to call it off with Gideon and not hurt his feelings." Dipper said as he and Stan stared at the girl. She was laying face down against the armchair cushions and making sounds that would have been right at home in a whale documentary.
Stan felt some of this previous ire fade and he slumped in exasperation. She just looked so sad. He was a little disappointed that he wouldn't get to give his lecture.
"You want to deal with that while I take care of Gideon?" he asked, jabbing a thumb in his niece's direction.
Dipper grimaced at the idea and lifted a hand to lower Stan's arm.
"Maybe I should be the one to break the news to Gideon? Mabel and I talked about it, but maybe you should talk to her. Weren't you married before? Just tell her what not to do in a relationship."
"Kid, that marriage only lasted four hours." Stan grumbled, shoving his nephew's hat down until the boy stumbled blindly. "But fine, give that little brat a few licks on my behalf and I'll talk to your sister. Y'think some ice cream'll help?"
"Couldn't hurt!" Dipper gasped, finally freeing his head from his hat. "Be back soon."
Stan watched him go for a moment, a slight smile curling his lips.
Yeah, the kid really was a lot like him. Especially when it came to protecting their siblings. He only hoped that Dipper and Mabel would turn out better than him and Ford.
"You doing okay there, pumpkin." Stan asked, sitting on top of the T-Rex skull and leaning over to rub her back.
Mabel let on another whale sound before turning her head just enough to peek up at Stan.
"I don't know," she admitted, defeat evident in her tone. "I just wanted a friend and Gideon keeps trying to turn himself into a boyfriend. Grunkle Stan, dealing with boys is hard."
Stan snorted. "Don't I know it? They don't get any better as you grow up either. Learned that the hard way back when I was dating Jimmy snakes in New York."
New York in the late seventies hadn't been all that bad at first. The people that were more colorful and had a tendency to look the other way when they saw something shady going down. And the night life there was nearly as good as Vegas's.
Jimmy hadn't been that bad at first either. He was a cool cat with his own place and a motorcycle that he could go all night. In more ways than one, if you caught his drift.
But all good things had to come to an end and Stan had to leave Jimmy and the town if he wanted to keep his head attached to his neck.
"You had a boyfriend?!" Mabel cried in shock, finally sitting up. "I didn't know you could do that!"
"Kid, people can love whoever they want." Stan shrugged, trying to shake the age-old memory of his father's lectures about homosexuals and the things he'd seen done to them while helping break down concentration camps in Germany. Pa'd always gotten a strange look in his eye when he talked about his army days and inevitably trailed off. But the parts he did talk about were horrifying. Stan refocused on Mabel. "But that doesn't give Gideon the right to push you for anything. No one has the right and don't you ever let them guilt you into believing otherwise. Just punch them in the kisser if they try!"
Mabel snickered and threw a mock punch that didn't look too bad.
"That's what mom says too!" She said cheerfully. "And our kickboxing coach!"
"You a fighter, huh?" Stan snickered, ruffling her hair. "Maybe I should be teaching you the ol' Pines' Family Boxing Moves."
"Yeah!" Mabel lit up even further at the idea. She looked at Stan with stars in her eyes. "Will you really teach me?"
"If it'll help keep yous two outta trouble," he agreed, tugging her to his chest. She hugged him back readily, feeling like a little furnace for his heart.
He'd do anything to protect these kids. And teaching them how to box! Even if Ford hadn't liked the lessons, it was still something they had fun doing together. And now he could share the experience with his niblings, too!
Now, they just had to finish getting that money-grubbing, fake psychic out of their hair and they'd be golden!
The whole Gideon situation was getting way out of hand. Something had gone wrong with the 'breakup' and now both the twins were missing!
Stan was grumbling about it the whole time as he headed up to one of the Gleefuls' old factories. He'd found the address written down in Dipper's handwriting on a carbon copy in the receipt book. And then he found out from Wendy that Mabel had gone off to break up with Gideon in person, having felt bad about Dipper doing it for her, not realizing she was following her brother right into a trap!
What was with these kids?!
He blamed Ford.
Somehow, someway, it had to be his brother's influence causing the kids to get into situations like this. Maybe it was genetics. Or, more likely, it was that damn journal of his! Stan still wasn't having any luck in getting his hands on the one Dipper had.
Would it kill the kid to leave it laying around somewhere? He even took it into the bathroom with him on the rare occasion when he showered.
Speaking of which, Stan really needed to have a talk with his nephew about hygiene.
He sighed, wondering just what had become of his life, and rounded the curve. The factory was now in sight and ― Sweet Moses!
Stan hit the brakes, the car squealing in protest, and watched in horror as a pair of tiny figures toppled over the side of the cliff.
"Kids." He screamed, flooring the car in the direction of their fall. He cut off the car and threw himself out, nearly face planting in the dirt.
Thankfully, there were no splatters of his family littering the forest floor but he couldn't deny the sight of Dipper and Gideon caught in some green, mystic glow while Mabel floated overhead, wreathed in the same unearthly light.
Stan collapsed to the ground, unable to hear the kids' conversation over the pounding in his ears.
Oh God, he could have lost them and he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.
All because of Gideon.
He didn't know how he found himself on his feet or why the twins were suddenly yelling at him, but he had his hands on that pudgy, little brat and memories from Mississippi were flooding back to him. Eight-Ball Alcatraz had gotten his hands dirty in that muddy water more than once ― never for murder but, hey! He was young again and there was plenty of time to try something new.
"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel shrieked, launching herself into his arms and forcing him to drop Gideon.
The boy fell back, squealing like the pig he was, and scrambled away, various items spilling from his hair like a trail of breadcrumbs.
A flash of gold inevitably caught his eye.
Stan pivoted, snatching Dipper up as well, and fell to the ground once more with the twins safely encased in his arms.
"I thought I lost you two." He admitted, burying his face in their wild curls. "Oh Moses, I saw you go over that cliff―"
"Grunkle Stan…" Dipper squeezed free of the embrace just enough to stare at his uncle with surprise.
And why wouldn't he, considering how gruffly Stan treated the boy? It was hard to handle Dipper the same way he did Mabel. Pines boys had to be tough, so you had to treat them tough. Make them strong enough to face the world on their own ― because the world would never be kind to them.
That was the way Filbrick had taught his sons and Stan had always believed in it for some reason.
But holding Dipper and Mabel like this after that scare made him re-evaluate his plans for the summer. He never wanted the kids to think he didn't love them ― no matter how much he needed to pretend otherwise for the sake of his ruse.
Even Ford wasn't worth pushing away what he added with the kids right now.
"Grunkle Stan, what happened with you?" Mabel asked, grabbing his face. Her own was crinkled with concern and a trace of fear that made his heart clinch. "That was ― That was really scary."
"Sorry, sweetheart," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "I just… lost it there for a second. I told you that Gideon was no good!"
"Considering the way he swore vengeance on our entire family, I agree." Dipper said tiredly, his eye beginning to swell. Gideon must have gotten in a good hit while they were falling.
Stan squeezed them a little tighter. "I won't let him get even close."
"We destroyed his amulet." Dipper assured him, relaxing at the reminder. "You saw that… right? How Mabel saved us with a magic amulet? Well, at least you can't deny that magic exists anymore, right?"
The boy chuckled nervously, looking up at his uncle with a margin of hope.
Stan sighed heavily. "Kid, I've always known."
There went the cat, the bag dragging along behind it like some half rotten corpse.
The twins looked up Stan in shock.
"Wait, what are you talking about?"
"I'm not an idiot, Dipper." Stan rolled his eyes, exasperation seeping into his tone. "Of course this town is weird! And the one thing I know about that weirdness is that it's dangerous! Case in point ― Gideon and his magic amulet. You could have died, you knucklehead!"
"Then, you being all young again…" Mabel's eyes were wide as saucers. "Why lie about that?"
"I wanted to keep you away from it all. To protect you. Looks like I can't lie about that anymore. Not if I want to keep yous two in one piece."
The twins shared a look, some silent conversation taking place between them. Stan recalled sharing many of those looks with Ford when they were kids.
"We're sorry for keeping this from you, Grunkle Stan." Dipper said.
"Yeah, we never meant to get caught up in all those wacky messes." Mabel agreed, a bit more lively than her brother. "They just sort of happened!"
"And we haven't even seen half of the things in the journal yet." Dipper added, a strange mix of worry and nerves crossing his face.
"Journal, huh?" Stan looked away from the twins, only a fraction of his real interest showing in his tone. "Think I could take a look at that?"
Dipper's face creased with worry. "I guess… if you agree to give it back!"
"Only if you promise to use it for self-defense and not go looking for trouble."
If that was the only way to get the journal, then so be it. He'd just have to keep a closer eye on the twins until the end of summer.
"Well then," Dipper fumbled, still not wanting to give over his most prized possession so easily. "You don't have any other bombshell secrets about this town you plan on dropping on us, do you?
"No, I think that's it for the town." Stan hummed in agreement, grateful for the loophole his nephew had inadvertently given him.
Now, bombshells about their family…
Mabel yawned against Stan's chest, snuggling further into him. "Can we go home now?"
"Yeah," Stan agreed, finally releasing the kids. "First one to the car gets to ride shotgun with me!"
The twins leapt at the opportunity, suddenly revitalized by sibling rivalry, shooting away from Stan like rockets.
He grinned after them before rising to his feet and picking up his loot.
The six fingered hand gleamed beneath the moonlight, a bold black number two in the center.
"Finally," he breathed reverently, placing his hand over the gold foil. "After all these years, I have them all…"