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Chapter Text

You threw another stone from your collection into the disgusting, polluted sea with unbridled annoyance.

You couldn’t believe your luck. One would assume thousands of hours of reading shitty isekai manga and reincarnation manhwas would prepare you in the event of your stupid death and reawakening in a new world, but what you didn’t expect was to wake up in 1960s New Jersey, America. It was so unfathomably dumb!

The novels promised romance, adventure, mystery, and magic! But, no~! You were stuck in some ridiculous back alley district you had never heard of before, wasting your summer throwing rocks into a strangled seagull-filled, toxic waste container storage unit of an ocean. What you wouldn’t give to have your phone or laptop right now.

You dragged your hands down your face with a groan, pulled yourself off the dock and shoved your pile of stones into your pocket. If the local library weren’t such a hovel and hang out for some of the worst crowds, you could’ve very happily spent all day curled up under whatever fan or air-conditioner they had available with a book, but sadly, it could never be.

Arguably, you could help your mother out with her Belgium waffle place, but you had already spent your adult life working your ass off (something you’ll have to do again in this life, too), so you were going to take every childish freedom you could get.

And if that meant doing absolutely nothing, then so be it!

“Kings of New Jersey! Kings of New Jersey!”

You had been stomping down the boardwalk when you heard it and stopped. For some reason, the voices sounded familiar.

Looking around, you noticed a small handful of families, a couple of greasy vendors selling not-FDA-approved food, and a familiar, ugly mop of blond hair with its two sidekicks crossing the street towards the beach.

You groaned at the sight of Crampelter and his goons. The kids were two years above you and apparently got off on pushing younger kids around. You stayed away from him and his lot for the most part, never making yourself known unless necessary, and that, thankfully, had worked in your favour thus far. You could only assume that Crampelter became nervous at the idea of entering middle school and returning to the bottom of the social hierarchy, so now, he was taking that pent-up aggression on other people to make himself feel better.

You continued walking, keeping a cautious eye on Crampelter.

Even though he didn’t know who you were, it wouldn’t surprise you if you, simply being a small child, would be enough to warrant classic-era bullying.

Instead, you were surprised when Crampelter snatched up a rock off the ground and threw it at something down the sandbank.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the loser twins. Nice boat. You get it at the dump?”

If there was one thing you could count on bullies, it was them being irritatingly loud.

As you drew closer, you spied the aforementioned boat, but as for the twins Crampelter was speaking to, you couldn’t see them from your position. You slowed your pace, still walking towards the group but still far enough away that you could slip away unseen if things became serious.

“You would know, Crampelter. Get lost!” A squeaky voice yelled back.

Well, at the very least, the kid had guts. You could respect that. But if this kid was also dumb enough to yell at someone bigger than everyone in your school who also had two backup singers with him, it would hardly be a fair fight. No kid deserved that.

You palmed one of the stones in your pocket in preparation.

“Listen, dorks, and listen good.” Crampelter continued. “You’re a six-fingered freak, and you’re just a dumber, sweatier version of him. And you’re lucky you have each other because neither of you will ever make any friends.”

Six fingers?

You had never met anyone with six fingers before, in this life or the last, you’re sure of that, but somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had heard of someone with six fingers. But where?

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Crampelter leave without further incident.

Seriously, did the guy have nothing better to do with his life?

It wasn’t like you were one to talk, having just come from a riveting hour of spacing out and throwing rocks into the water.

You returned to your regular pace, and while you could’ve ignored Crampelter’s targets, you couldn’t help your curiosity and peeked down the sandbank to see two boys, one with a pair of glasses and another with a band-aid slapped across his cheek. Both boys were practically boiled red lobsters.

“Hey, don’t let those idiots get to you,” Band-Aid reassured Glasses.

“But I am a freak.” Glasses retorted.

You frowned. Damn. The kid had to be the same physical age as you, and he already had self-image issues. You crossed your arms across your chest, offended at the world for the kid. Kids had such a skewed perspective and what was classed as truly freakish behaviour.

So, why not step in a bit?

“What? Did you die and get reborn as a comic book character or only scratch your face with your toes or something?” You called out to the boys down the back.

They yelped at the interruption and spun around defensively. Band-Aid glared at you while Glasses watched you wearily. You observed as Glasses hid his hands behind his back while Band-Aid stepped forward to put himself between you and him, and now that you had a better look at them, presumably his brother.

Twins?

“Who are you? What do you want?”

You shrugged. “Nothing much. Just saw that loser Crampelter and his flying monkeys leaving and wanted to make sure he hadn’t left some poor kid in tears.”

“We can handle ourselves!”

You smiled a little at him. “That’s pretty brave of you.”

Band-Aid didn’t expect that since, despite his sunburns, by how flustered he got, you could tell he was flattered and sheepish from the unexpected praise. You then turned to Glasses and noticed that he was now closely observing you, thankfully, with slightly less suspicion and apprehension than before.

“Hey. You okay?” You asked.

Glasses blinked and stared up at you, his expression open with bewilderment. Geez, what had these kids gone through that a simple check-in caused such a response? You fought the instinct to scoop up these random kids and adopt them off the street, instead keeping your expression neutral.

“Um, uh,” Glassess stammered.

Band-Aid turned around, surprised but encouraging his brother to speak up.

“Y-Yeah…I think I’m okay.” Glasses eventually replied.

“That’s good to hear,” You returned and gave them your last name as a peace offering. “The name’s Maes. Third grade. It was really cool seeing you stand up to Crampelter like that.”

The boys didn’t seem to expect such a warm reception from a complete stranger since they looked at each other, likely to confirm that, yes, in fact, you did exist and were indeed talking to them. Glasses looked hesitant, but Band-Aid must’ve been the face of the dynamic duo since he jumped at the opportunity to introduce himself.

“Stan – Stanley Pines! And this is my twin brother Stanford. We’re in fourth grade.”

A year older, huh? That was fun.

You stepped forward, sliding down the sandbank, and as you walked towards them, you stuck your hand out. Stan beamed at the bizarre but mature form of introduction, took your hand and thrashed it up and down. You wouldn’t have been surprised if his enthusiasm snapped your wrist clean off. The only thing stopping it was his scrawny stature.

After Stan finally let go of you, you offered the same courtesy to Stanford.

He was hesitant at first but eventually took your hand and gave it a quick, short shake before hiding his hands behind his back again. Despite his attempts to hide his six fingers, the fact that he was so self-conscious about it only piqued your curiosity and determination to see it in person.

“You can call me ‘Ford’.”

“Will do. It’s nice to meet you both. Cool boat, by the way.” There wasn’t a better way to connect with people than to compliment them and get them to talk about their interests.

“Isn’t it!” Stan jumped in. “We found it in this boarded-up cave! Tell ‘em, Sixer!”

“It’s a little busted up, but we’re going to try and fix it,” Ford replied with a shy smile.

“And when we do,” Stan jumped in again, “we’re gonna sail away from this dumb town, hunt for treasure, get all the girls, and be an unstoppable team of adventurers!”

Your heart warmed at their shared excitement and comradery. It seemed that as long as those two had each other, they could weather any storm. Something in your heart squeezed as a little voice told you it wouldn’t last as long as you’d like.

“Sounds like you have your whole life ahead of you.” You continued to smile, but somehow, although it didn’t show on your face, it didn’t feel genuine. Why did the future sound so scary all of a sudden? You knew what history had in store, but anxiety gripped your nerves and refused to let go.

“What about you?” Ford asked politely.

“Hmm?” You turned to Ford, pulled out of your thoughts, and unsure what he was asking.

“Do you know what you’re going to do when you’re older?”

You thought about it for a moment. When you began elementary school, you had thought about the future a lot, whether to follow the same career path, try something new, invest in stocks or some other wacky nonsense, but nothing came to mind every time.

“Not really. I’ve thought about it, but nothing really seems right.”

“Oh…well, you still have plenty of time to think.” Ford placated, wilting a little that the conversation died despite his best effort.

“Maybe you can give me some suggestions.” You offered.

The twins were quiet for a moment, thinking very seriously about your life goals for the future.

“A pirate.” Stan began.

“An astronaut.” Ford beamed.

“A superhero.”

“A physicist.”

“A mobster.”

“A lawyer.”

“A secret agent.”

“An artist?”

“The President!”

“An author.”

“I like the sound of an author.” You chuckled, your good mood returning thanks to Stan and Ford’s enthusiasm. “I think I can come up with a few story ideas that might be worth exploring. Thanks.”

“Happy to help.” The twins beamed in unison.

The three of you talked about potential adventures that were lying in wait across the sea, other things they liked to do for fun, and whatever random topic of discussion popped into Stan’s mind.

Ford occasionally shared a fun fact he had learned from Did You Know books he borrowed from the library and truly came out of his shell when you engaged with him about them. You realised he was an incredibly intelligent kid with a bottomless thirst to learn. He specifically loved cryptids, aliens, supernatural and fantasy everything. You could relate. His enthusiasm was infectious, and once the two of you started, it was like Ford couldn’t stop himself. You also couldn’t help noticing that Ford began animating his monologues with his hands, and you were glad he got over his shyness quickly.

Stan, on the other hand, seemed to live to entertain. He cracked jokes and told funny stories about pranks he and Ford pulled inside and outside school. Stan also gushed about his dream to travel the world, meet the weirdest people and try food off the side of the road. Ford reminded him that he would eat food off the side of the road here in Jersey if someone offered him a quarter.

He wholeheartedly agreed, and you laughed.

Stan puffed up every time he managed to make you smile, and you couldn’t help it; they were the cutest kids.

You didn’t realise just how much time you had spent with the twins until you looked out at the ocean and noticed the sun had dipped considerably. It was probably an idea to start heading home.

“Hey, I had a lot of fun today, but I have to go.”

“Really?” Ford frowned, his shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, mum’s about to close up shop soon, and I always help her prepare dinner. But, uh…” Why were you so nervous? “If it’s – uh – if it’s alright with you, can we hang out again tomorrow?”

“That would be awesome!” Stan beamed. “We’ll be here. Won’t we, Sixer?”

Ford smiled at that and nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah! We’ll be here.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You waved and began your trek home. When you reached the top of the sandbank and back onto the boardwalk, you turned and called out to the twins. “It was great meeting you, Stan, Ford! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye!” The twins waved, Stan jumping up and down, throwing both arms around while Ford gave you a happy, full-view, six-fingered wave.

The front door to Hot Belgium Waffles was understandably locked once the closed sign was visible. So, walking down the alley alongside the building, you pulled open the backdoor hidden between the two large industrial rubbish bins, stepped in and locked the door behind you.

“I’m home!” You called out. You could hear the low hum of the radio and the water running in the kitchen, and you assumed your mother was busy washing the kitchen equipment. She hired teens during the summer to wash the dishes, but she preferred to do the equipment herself. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt.

“Welcome home!” Your mother returned. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“No. Is there anything you want me to grab from the fridge or cut?”

“The chicken drumsticks, potatoes and frozen veggies, please.”

“Okay.”

And just like that, your evening was spent preparing dinner, asking your mother how her day was, if any drama went down, and if she needed you to get anything tomorrow. Her day was fine, but Hilda was sick, so she had to call Jimmy to cover her shift. If you could grab some milk and eggs, that would be perfect.

Glad that your mother was well, you then told her about your new friends. Your mother listened attentively, laughed at some of the answers Stan gave you as future prospects, and was glad you finally found people that you connected with. She had been worried that you weren’t getting along with other kids your age, especially since you were nine already.

“What are their names?”

“Stanley and Stanford Pines.”

“Oh,” Your mother blinked and pulled a face you couldn’t define.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing, Liefje.”

“Mamma.”

Your mother huffed at your serious and determined expression but folded immediately.

“There’s no point in hiding it. You’ll know eventually – Those Pines boys actually live next door at the Pines Pawns. They’re troublemakers, but I’m more concerned about their father.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

Your mother pulled another face. This time, you could tell it was distaste.

“He’s a man that’s not easily impressed. Very cold and doesn’t talk much. I’m just worried he’ll say something that might make you not want to hang out with your new friends.”

You thought back to your previous life and the handful of difficult and toxic people you had a run-in with and figured that a pseudo-tough guy with a chip on his shoulder and very few words to offer would be easy enough to deal with.

“I’ll be okay, Mammie.”

Your mother didn’t look convinced.

“If you’re sure. Now, go brush your teeth and head to bed. I still have some food prep to do.”

“Okay. Don’t stay up too late.”

You hopped off your chair, rounded the table and let your mother kiss you on the forehead before you did as you were told.

When you crawled into bed, you stared up at the ceiling. You wanted to cover it in glow-in-the-dark stars, but apparently, they hadn’t been invented yet. What a pain. Well, when they finally became mass-marketed, you were going to cover your room with the things.

With your arms tucked behind your head, you thought back to your exciting and fulfilling day.

You made friends.

It was nice.

Stanley and Stanford Pines.

They were energetic, nice and a little dorky. Ford was academically smart and could keep up with you in conversation more often than not, but you and Stan seemed to share a sense of humour despite the vast difference in energy levels.

It was a good day.

You couldn’t wait to hang out with them again tomorrow. You wondered if you could help them repair their boat. Or would it be better if you brought a towel and an umbrella so you could sit on the sidelines and still talk with them? Maybe you could play in the sand or explore the neighbourhood.

You closed your eyes with a smile on your face, and just as darkness fogged your mind, thoughts flittered in and out.

…Stanley and Stanford Pines…

…Twins…

…Six fingers…

…six…fingers…

…author…

…author…

…author…

The Author!

You shot up in your bed.

“Oh…god…”

Chapter Text

You threw your legs out of bed and dragged both hands down your face, suddenly exhausted but unable to sleep.

Stanley and Stanford Pines.

Twin brothers who were separated for forty years until their great-niece and nephew, Mabel and Dipper Pines, came to the rescue.

Gravity Falls.

You did say you wanted fantasy, adventure, and magic in your new life. That’s what you get for thinking too loudly for the cosmos to hear, you suppose.

…You couldn’t take it back now.

God, you also wished for romance; you really hoped the universe wasn’t planning on pairing you up with Bill Cipher or Jeff the Gnome or something as retribution for your hubris. Although, if those two options came with absolute power and no torture or creepy touching, maybe you would give it some thought. Stop it. Bad idea. Bill Cipher – bad. Jeff the Gnome – Creepy. Period. You told yourself not to think about it anymore, or you were going to throw up.

Sighing, you suddenly felt so old…

Shaking your head, you reassured yourself that, hey, since you were an adult in a child’s body, you were probably going to stay single forever anyway, so why worry about it. Yeah. You were going to be fine. Not worried at all. It wasn’t like you had fifty years to stress about the potential end of the world because a mind-reading, manipulative, eldritch triangle was hellbent on destroying the planet.

But it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?

Climbing out of bed, you got a glass of water, sat in the nook of your bedroom window and watched the alley below for any interesting characters. You just needed to breathe and think things through calmly. You…

Stanley! Stanley, help me! Stanley, do something!

C-Come on… It’s me. It’s me, Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan, it’s me!

You clenched your teeth as you remembered the twist in your gut and the tears you shed when you first watched the finale. It would be alright in the end…but at what cost? Stan was disowned and homeless for ten years, spending another thirty years on a seemingly impossible task before having his mind erased, and Ford, an idiot genius who got swindled and tortured by Bill Cipher, then lost in the multiverse.

You weren’t a god. Knowing the future didn’t mean it was your responsibility to step in and change things in a way you saw fit. Even if it was for characters you really liked.

It was too much to ask of one person.

You took another gulp of your water. Suddenly, your bedroom felt too stuffy. You threw open the window and were glad tonight was cooler than the other summer nights.

What were you going to do?

You said you were going to hang out with the twins tomorrow. You knew you weren’t going to turn them down because of this newfound revelation. That was just stupid. Those kids needed a friend. And…if you were being honest…so did you.

“Hey!” A hard whisper called out.

Snapping out of your spiralling conundrum, you looked out the window and were shocked to see the twins who plagued your mind bunched up at the window with giant toothy grins on their faces. They seemed so innocent. They were just kids.

“Hey! Hey! Look! We’re next-door neighbours! Can you see us?! It’s Stan and Ford! From the beach! Remember?! Remember?!” Stan almost shouted his cheering if Ford hadn’t slapped his hand over his mouth and shushed him, warning him that if Pa caught them, they would be grounded for a week.

You snorted and let out a stuttering, wispy laugh.

Your chest felt a little lighter seeing them.

Yeah…they were innocent.

You could worry about the future later.

“Hey, back at cha,” you greeted. “Mum said we were neighbours. Shouldn’t you two be in bed?”

“Shouldn’t you also be in bed?” Ford asked. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve assumed they were sassing you, but as the faint light from the street lamps cast across the boy’s face, you could only see concern.

“Just needed some water.” You waved your glass so they knew you weren’t lying. You yawned now that the stress was leaving you. “What about you two?”

“We were too excited about the boat,” Ford replied, shyly turning away, “…and spending time with a new friend.”

“Yeah,” Stan joined in, “do you wanna help us with our boat?”

You raised your eyebrow and checked the twin’s faces, “You sure I wouldn’t be intruding? It’s your boat and adventure on the seas, after all.”

Stan was about to nod his head but then turned to Ford for his verdict. Ford stared at his brother, then at you and agreed. They had only found the boat recently, and besides painting their names on the side of the thing, they hadn’t done any construction, so it wasn’t like you would be suddenly taking over the project. Besides, he didn’t feel comfortable saying no to someone who considered them a friend after just meeting them and thought they were cool.

“Yeah, it’s fine with us,” Ford replied.

“Well, if at any point you want me to step aside, just let me know. I can relax under an umbrella and read a book or something.”

“Urgh! Sounds like boring nerd stuff.” Stan groaned.

Just as Stan said his piece, loud thumping footsteps came from the Pines building. The boys jolted out of the conversation and scrambled back to their beds. Stan went to close the window, but Ford told him that closing it would only alert their father, and they could use it as an excuse for being up if he did come in.

You snorted, amused at Ford’s quick thinking, got up, closed your window and watched as the boys threw their blankets over themselves. They both rolled over and stared at you. You waved them good night, and their hands poked out and gave you little finger wiggles.

Relaxed and reassured, you went to the kitchen, topped up your glass and returned to bed.

Yeah, you could cross the future bridge when you get there.

You woke up with bags under your eyes and a thick layer of fuzz in your mouth.

So much for that…

Although, since you knew what type of reality you were in now, you hoped you could get used to it and not worry about it anymore after a few days. Yes, because ignoring your problems always works out for everyone involved.

Groaning, you rolled over, picked up your glass of lukewarm water, took a giant gulp and got out of bed. As much as you wanted to lie in and do nothing, living on the second floor during summer was the worst, and you had an appointment with Stan and Ford.

You followed your morning routine: brush your teeth, brush your mop of hair, wash your face and trudge over to the dining table where your mother had already prepared breakfast.

You always ate breakfast alone since Hot Belgium Waffles was an all-day café, and your mother needed to warm the place up and ensure everything was ready to go. Today’s meal was bread, sliced cheese, ham, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, and a glass of orange juice. You were glad you ate the variety of cold breakfasts since you began ingesting solid foods; otherwise, you would’ve filed a complaint with the embassy or something.

Once you were done, you placed the leftovers in the fridge, washed your plate and went downstairs.

The café was full. Summer brought out the early risers and the occasional hippy. You’d never thought you’d see a hippy in real life, but you supposed this generation couldn’t conceive of a goth, so you digressed.

“Good morning, Liefje. Are you off to play?”

“Yes, Mammie.” You waved to your mother, who was wiping down the barista coffee machine as she tapped the used grounds into the bin. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“Okay. Don’t forget the milk and eggs.”

“Yes, Mammie.”

“Oh,” She said, loud enough to stop you before you closed the front door behind you, “invite the boys to have lunch with us. I would like to meet your new friends.”

Your mother was so sweet. If it were any other nine-year-old, you could only guess they might’ve been reluctant to bring their new friends over to be potentially embarrassed and cooed over by, effectively, a stranger’s mother, but you revelled in these quintessential childhood moments. Besides, with how your mother described the twin’s father and what you remembered about their mother, it might be a good idea to show them what a healthy family looked like.

“Will do!”

“Stay safe.”

The bell on the door chimed as it closed behind you, and you began your short trek to the isolated section of the beach where the twins stored their new boat. Trying to keep your thoughts in the present, you wondered how you would contribute to its construction. And, now that you thought about it, with an extra pair of hands, would it be completed earlier than when Ford received his nomination to West Coast Tech?

If the boat were to be completed early, the twins would have to learn about maritime laws and discuss the logistics of adventuring versus academic advancement.

Good idea.

You liked that idea.

Feeling a little better about your bizarre circumstances around your reincarnation, you continued to the beach with a lighter, almost a bounce, in your step. It felt like such a simple solution now that you thought about it. If the boys had more time to seriously consider their futures before the concept of college put a powderkeg on their feelings, then, hopefully, they would come to some sort of conclusion by themselves, and…if you three were still friends, maybe you could mediate.

Friends…

You wanted to be their friend, but if you were only in it because they were the main characters of a show you used to watch, were you just inserting yourself where you weren’t wanted or playing babysitter for the next ten years? The last thing you wanted to do was reduce and characterise the people around you as main characters, supporting characters, villains, and, worst of all, disposable background characters.

Because, by all extents and purposes, you were a disposable background character.

A nobody.

If something happened to you prior to the West Coast Tech incident, it would only make sense that they would forget you and any advice you offered. You could do something that made them not want to be your friend anymore, you might need to move to another state, or maybe you were just cosmically assassinated again.

You really hoped that wasn’t the case.

No. You couldn’t think like that.

You were here. In this reality. In this dimension.

And you had to face it head-on.

For as long as Stan and Ford allowed it, you were going to treat them better than anyone in this god-forsaken state, even if you didn’t know what you could possibly have in common with two ten-year-old boys as a fully grown adult, but you were going to try your best.

The section of the beach with the boat was, as expected, devoid of people. Even the twins hadn’t arrived yet. With how late the three of you went to bed, you wouldn’t be surprised if they slept in until noon.

With nothing else to do, you decided to have a crack at taking stock and assessing the condition of the boat. You didn’t even need to walk around the thing to know it would be better to start from scratch. The front of it was completely gone, the keel was snapped in half, and the wood was rotten. Even Theseus couldn’t save this boat.

“Then where to start…?” You muttered under your breath, staring hard at the destroyed structure.

“What are you thinking about? Some nerd thing?”

“AH!”

Leaping forward and spinning around, you were startled to find Stan already in the sand, gasping for air as laughter wracked his whole body. Despite his shoulders shaking, Ford at least had the decency to look apologetic.

“Holy….hot sauce,” You groaned, “you scared the daylights out of me.”

“S-Sorry,” Ford managed to croak out. Stan continued to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” You retorted, but the smile on your face eased any insecurity they might’ve had about scaring and offending you. “How are you two?”

Ford took some deep breaths to calm down before replying, “We’re good, thank you. We were lucky Pa didn’t catch us last night.”

You nodded, appreciating the update. You side-eyed Stan, who only now began to collect himself.

“By the way, before we start, my mum wants me to invite you over for lunch. She wants to meet you guys.”

“…A new place to explore…” Ford muttered, slightly amazed.

“Free food?!” Stan demanded confirmation.

Well, they must’ve missed whatever class taught social etiquette regarding invitations, but you also reasoned that kids were always brutally honest. So, you just snorted.

“Yeah. Free food. But I gotta pick up some things from the store before we arrive.”

“What do you need?” Stan asked, interested.

“Milk and eggs.”

“Boring~!”

You and Ford shook your head.

“What are we going to do first?” You asked, tilting your head toward the boat. You didn’t want to share your insight without getting an idea of what the twins were planning. Again, it was their boat. Not yours. You were a guest.

“We have to inspect it for pirate ghosts,” Stan announced. Ford nodded wisenly.

You blinked. The logical side of your brain jammed as it failed to align Stan’s declaration with the general concept of ship construction. You could only watch as Ford pulled out a book on ghosts, haunted locations, and protective measures and began quoting it like it was all factual. It took a moment for you to remember that you were in the Gravity Fall’s universe, and things such as cryptids, dimensional portals, and magic were not only real but possible in locations outside of the Weirdness Bubble.

Maybe reality was going to be harder to grapple with after all.

“Maes?”

“Sorry,” You said on reflex, “we’re inspecting for pirate ghosts; what’s your call, co-captains?”

“Co-captain?” Stan frowned and jammed his thumb into his chest, “Clearly, I’m the captain since I found it first, and I’m the most daring.”

“What?” Ford retorted. “We found it at the same time, and I’m older. I should be captain.”

“What’s wrong with co-captains?” You interjected.

“There can’t be two captains. That just doesn’t make sense.” Ford provided.

You nodded, feigning understanding, but continued. “A captain’s job is to direct the crew…so, as long as there’s someone to take orders, there can be two captains?” Your confidence in your reasoning trailed off as you focused on inspecting the boys’ faces.

The twins stared at you and then at each other as if reading the other’s thoughts. When they looked at you again, you braced yourself instinctively. You had a bad feeling about this.

“Are you saying you’ll be the crew?” Stan asked.

You nodded wearily.

Ford nodded as well, clearly approving of your approval.

“And as your captains, you’d do anything your captains tell you to do, correct?” Ford added.

You frowned. “Within reason.”

“Good enough for me!” Stan agreed. You didn’t think he actually heard or understood what you said, but Ford was smiling at you, happy. “Alright, Co-Captain Ford and First Mate Maes, prepare your weapons and board the vessel!”

“Copy that, Co-Captain Stan,” Ford beamed.

“Yes, sir!” You saluted.

The three of you split off to search the beach for your weapon of choice before reconvening, inspecting each other’s wares and then ‘sneaking’ in. Stan had his mind on hoping to fight something or uncover some treasure, while Ford was hoping to find a mysterious log that told tales of long-forgotten battles, monsters and lost civilisations. They asked what you hoped to uncover, and while you struggled to join in on the imagination game, you told them that you were happy as long as you could help your co-captains achieve their goals.

Stan called you a sap, albeit fondly, while Ford assured you that they were glad you were there with them.

As the day went on, Stan and Ford narrated and acted out the hypothetical adventures you would have once the boat was completed before the topic of the supernatural cropped up again, and you and Ford began lecturing Stan on the beauty and danger of mermaids, then the difference between mermaids and sirens, before somehow swerving towards whether dating them would even be possible given the difference in species and physiology.

Once the theoretical science came up, it took Stan roughly five minutes to announce that he was sick of all the nerd talk and that he was hungry.

You looked at Stan, then checked the sun. You wished you had your phone or a watch to know exactly what time it was. You supposed it was about time you ran your errand and got something to eat.

It felt hard to believe that you had so much energy in your body, and honestly, you could still run around some more. Man, being young was great. You laughed to yourself.

You agreed with Stan that some food was in order, and Ford thanked you for treating them, but you waved him off and told him to tell your mother that, not you. He smiled, and Stan scrunched his face, not distastefully, but as if he was thinking of something really seriously.

“What are you doing, Stan?” You asked.

“I’m makin’ sure I remember to thank your ma, too,” he replied.

Couldn’t he just follow Ford’s lead? Ford seemed like the responsible twin, so it wasn’t like he had to do a lot of heavy lifting.

“Why?”

Stan’s face unfurled, but when he looked at you, there was a sting of pain there as if he had read your thoughts and your subconscious assessment of him and his dynamic with his brother. You winced.

“It’s cause you’re our first friend,” he replied earnestly. “I…well, I might not be the brightest, and Sixer here is too smart for the rest of this town, but you get us. And it’s only right to set a good impression, especially since it’s your ma. Right, poindexter?”

“Yeah,” Ford agreed. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know we haven’t known each other very long – approximately 4 hours and 47 minutes – but, uh, this might be the most fun we’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, and we once found an oversized hockey stick holding up the pier that probably belonged to a giant.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. These two really were the best. Unsure how to convey the overwhelming feelings that welled up inside you, you pulled them into a hug and were glad they didn’t immediately push you away. Ford patted you on the back while Stan ruffled your hair.

“I’m glad you guys are my friends, too,” you said as you pulled away. You scrubbed your face with your arm before beaming at them. “Let’s get some lunch.”

Your trip to the store was thankfully uneventful, so the three of you returned to your street in the Lead Paint District (a very concerning location that you immediately researched the district’s safety measures as soon as you could walk and talk, which revealed that it thankfully was safe).

Hot Belgium Waffles was, in your opinion, the most beautiful shop in the area. The outside was inviting, with a comfy booth by the window that showed off happy customers with their delicious, Instagram-worthy food to tourists on the street and a beautiful owner – not that you were biased.

As you pushed open the door and the bell chimed, Ford spoke up behind you.

“You know, we always wanted to eat here,” he said honestly.

“Yeah. We could’ve come, but Pa doesn’t believe in wasting money at fancy places,” Stan added, sharing the brutal reason for the Pines family’s lack of interaction. He sounded genuinely bitter about the lack of opportunity to eat and enjoy places that, you assumed, other kids his age were doing and talking about at school. You remembered feeling like that when your parents held off on taking you to a fast food place for as long as possible before time constraints meant it was easier to take you out whenever they could afford it.

“Well, you’re here now, so,” you comforted.

The twins agreed and followed you as you walked up to the counter. A teen with a poofy bob barely being held back by a headband peered down at the three of you. Her nose was bright red, and her smile was worn. You felt bad for Hilda, having to come into work still slightly sick. She once told you that she worked to help her parents support her and her three younger siblings.

“Hello, Hilda,” you greeted.

“Hey, right back. Who are your friends?”

You straightened, stepped aside and motioned with your hand, “This is Stanford and his twin brother Stanley Pines. We met yesterday. Is mum in?”

“It’s nice to meet you two. Mrs Maes is in the kitchen right now. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Just the menus, please.”

Hilda nodded and handed you three menus. You took them and told the boys to pick a place to sit. The boys took the task seriously and decided on a booth near the centre of the café. The three of you sat down, and you passed out the menus.

The three of you hummed and harred over your choices. Stan wanted to order one of everything while Ford was being strategic about whether to try something new or something familiar. Eventually, you told them that while they couldn’t have one of everything, they were free to pick two options – one to eat in and one to take home. They could share it with their parents if they wanted.

The twins stared at you, bewildered by your generosity. Ford was about to protest, but Stan slapped a hand over his mouth before his big, fat mouth made you take the offer back. You laughed.

Hilda took your orders. You chose chicken focaccia while the boys ordered a serving of chicken strips, a sandwich with the lot (whatever that meant – they were about to find out), some British fish and chips, and some hot Belgium waffles.

The food, like always, was perfect. Everything was hot, crispy, fresh and refreshing. You stuck with cold water, but the boys got a soda and a milkshake each. At that point, you were worried they might make themselves sick with how much they were eating, but they reassured you they would be fine.

It wasn’t until you were almost done, half of the dishes packed away in takeaway containers, that your mother finally found enough free time to leave the kitchen and greet you.

“Ah, you must be Stanley and Stanford Pines,” your mother interrupted.

“Woh! You have a crazy accent! Where’s it from?” Stan asked.

You and Ford stared at him like he was stupid.

“Take a guess,” you blurted.

Stan looked at you as if you were the idiot, and his question was a reasonable one to ask.

“How would I know? That’s why I asked, dummy. I dunno – Mexico?”

Ford facepalmed, and you barked out a laugh. You weren’t able to hold it in.

Your mother chuckled. “It’s not a bad guess. I am from Belgium.”

Finally, the penny dropped.

“Oooh.”

You and Ford couldn’t hold back anymore. You curled in over yourself as your body shook from laughing while Ford buried his head in the table and pounded his fist. Stan yelled at the two of you for being jerks, but the genuine, cheerful atmosphere stopped him from actually being mad.

“Now, Liefje, that’s not very nice.” Your mother lightly scolded.

You wiped the tears from your eyes as you tried to control yourself.

“Is Liefy-whatever your first name?” Stan asked. You were glad that despite your teasing, Stan didn’t censor himself and his curiosity.

“It means little…” Your mother waved her hand, trying to find the right word before turning to you for help.

“It’s like little dear or darling in Dutch.”

Stan pulled a face and was about to comment, but Ford punched him in the arm before the thought manifested. You raised an eyebrow, but Ford shook his head as if you said not to worry about it.

“Have you been enjoying yourself?” Your mother continued.

“Yes!” The three of you cheered.

“Thank you for the awesome meal, Mrs Maes!” Stan practically yelled. “It was so good!”

“Yes,” Ford followed. “Thank you, Mrs Maes. We really appreciate your generosity.”

“Not at all,” Your mother waved off, “I am happy to see my daughter has made good friends.”

“Daughter?” The two of them whispered to each other.

Your mother didn’t hear their question, but you did, and something sat heavy in your gut.

Hilda called for your mother, and she left none the wiser as the boys looked at you in a new, suspicious light.

Chapter Text

“You’re a girl?”

The question sounded accusatory. It shouldn’t have, but it did. By all logic, you understood there was nothing wrong with being a girl. You might’ve dressed casually enough to make it ambiguous (it was summer, and you wanted to be comfortable), but you never outright denied it.  

Your heart pounded against your chest, and a feral part of your brain wanted to get defensive and angry at the twin’s sudden change in attitude.

“I am.” You confirmed. You tried to keep your voice neutral, but with how both boys flinched, it must’ve come out colder than expected. “Why?”

Stan observed seriously, almost sternly. You stared back defiantly, unwilling to back down from the sudden gender bias the boys shared. However, just as Stan was about to say something, Ford lept out of the booth and bolted out of the café.

The action startled the both of you so much that the tension immediately cleared and was replaced with concern.

“Ford!” Stan yelled. He awkwardly shuffled out of the booth but turned around just before he followed suit. “We’ll talk about this later!”

You scrunched your face and held up a hand, baffled and mildly offended. You tried to fathom what had gotten into the twins, but any reasons you came up with just made you angry. It took you a few minutes to muddle through your whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, a sting of betrayal – you thought you had something good going – until you could steady your breathing, you couldn’t hear your heart next to your ears anymore, and your fists unfurled.

A part of you hated how big your emotions were. You were never like this when you were an adult, and learning to regulate emotions and bodily impulses were things children needed to do, but you had already done that song and dance. Why did you have to do it again? Urgh.

Hilda, the sweetheart she was, asked if you were okay when she noticed the boys were gone but with all the bagged food left on the table. You reassured her that everything was fine and that the twins just needed to get something. Still ill and not functioning at 100%, Hilda accepted your explanation at face value.

You helped her pack the plates, utensils, and glasses before packing the food into a paper bag and heading upstairs. You left the bag of food on the dining table and went to take a shower. You had a long day. It started out good and then plummeted because of one thing you had no control over or were hiding.

You reminded yourself that you weren’t going to be mad about it anymore, but it kept replaying in your mind.

It wasn’t until you were clean, dried, and clothed that you felt better.

Walking into your room, you slumped against the door with a sigh before walking over to the window to see if the twins had returned home. As it turned out, they had. Ford was pacing back and forth, his hands waving around as he said something you couldn’t hear. He stopped, looked at his hands, and hid them behind his back. Stan then stepped into view, saying something to Ford, but stopped just as Ford turned, cutting him off and opening his mouth just as both of their eyes looked through the window and saw you standing there staring at them.

The high-pitched scream was immediately followed by furious yelling from downstairs.

As their friend, you didn’t laugh.

…And it was hard.

You held up your finger, telling them to wait a minute, dashed out, laughed, grabbed the boys’ food off the table, and returned. You weren’t gone for long and were glad to see the boys didn’t take your momentary absence as another opportunity to flee. Not that they could really go anywhere for long. You were neighbours, after all. You would run into each other eventually.

Climbing up into your window nook, you placed the bag at your feet, opened the window and then motioned the boys to do the same with theirs.

Stan looked at Ford, nudging him with his shoulder and motioning with a tilt of his head, urging him to start the conversation. When Ford kept his hands clenched behind him and stared at the corner of the room, Stan threw up his hands in frustration, stomped over to the window, and, before Ford could protest, threw it open.

“Whadya want, Maes?” Stan blurted threateningly. It wasn’t threatening in the slightest.

You frowned but then grabbed the bag and held it out.

“Here. You left it behind.” You said.

Stan blinked, stared at the food and then at you.

“What? You’re…still givin’ it to us?” He asked.

“Duh,” You rolled your eyes. “You ordered it, and you got your cooties all over it.”

“Hey! I don’t have cooties! Only girls have that!”

“Then take your food!” You shouted back.

Stan, in his adrenaline-fueled momentum, snatched the bag from your hands and inspected it before realising just what he had done. He wasn’t meant to take the food. He was meant to be a being of titanium willpower, yet there he was with a bag of the most delicious, free food he had ever had in his hands. He didn’t understand. You were supposed to be angry at them after what happened. Hell, from how you talked to them after they asked, they were absolutely sure you were angry with them.

But here you were, giving them their food and waiting to hear them out.

Stan twisted around and showed off the bag of goodies to Ford with a giant gap-tooth grin on his face. He couldn’t believe their luck! Ford frowned at his excitement, so Stan started pointing at it, trying to convey just how cool it was that they still got free stuff despite their colossal screw-up almost destroying their new friendship.

“So,” you said, “are either of you going to tell me what happened back there?”

Stan turned around and didn’t see Ford shrink into himself again, but you did. Clearly, whatever was going on had something to do with Ford. Stan, from what you had gathered, was too bullheaded and always said the negative-first thing on his mind, so if he did have an issue with you, he would’ve said it already.

“Sixer here’s had a fear of girls ever since Cathy Crenshaw screamed when he held her hand.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused.

“Stan!”

“Why?”

“Wh-What do you mean why?!” Ford hissed. You raised your eyebrow at him, which only further set him off. He stormed over to the window and held up his hand, six fingers splayed for you to clearly see. “Look! I’m a freak! I thought you were smart, Maes! No one wants to be around someone like me!”

You stared at his hand, specifically his fingers, and then looked up at Ford. His anger brought out a confidence in him you liked seeing.

“I could say the same for you, Stanford. I thought you were smart,” you replied. You crawled onto your knees, shuffled over to the window ledge and waved your arm, urging the boys to move out of the way.

“Wo-Woh, what the heck are you doing?” Stan asked nervously.

Ford froze. Seeing you climb out of your window, it took a second for Ford to fathom what had gotten into you to jump out of a second-floor window and across an alley just to get into their room. The twins stepped back slowly but tried to stay close enough to catch you if something went terribly wrong.

You jumped, Stan and Ford flinched, and you crawled in through their bedroom window with ease.

You definitely wouldn’t have been able to do that if you were five years older.

Not bothering to take in your surroundings, you crossed the short distance between you and the nervous, glasses-wearing dork you had gotten to know since yesterday and snatched up his hands in yours before he dared to hide them again. Ford jumped at the contact, but you held firm. You watched him, waiting for when he would look at you, but he was shell-shocked and staring at your clasped hands.

“Stanford Pines.”

He finally looked at you, and you lifted your hands up and laced your fingers together. They just felt like hands. They were warm. There was nothing strange about them at all.

“You are not a freak. Do you hear me? If anyone says otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me.”

“And me!”

“And Stan.” Hard determination softened into a gentle smile as you saw Ford’s face falter and his eyes close to tears. “You are so much more than just your extra finger, Ford. You’re smart, courteous, funny, and just beautiful. And I’ll tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”

“…and if I never believe it?” The little voice found its way out of Ford’s mouth.

You squeezed his fingers between yours.

“Then you better memorise all of my phone numbers and addresses so I can tell you ‘cause I’m not going to chase you across the multiverse when you burn brighter than the sun. Can you do that for me?”

Ford sniffed and nodded. When he went to scrub his eyes with the back of his sleeve, you loosened your grip and felt him slip out. Stan went to his brother’s side and pulled him into a one-armed hug. When Ford stopped wiping his face, you saw him stare at your empty hand. Smiling, you held it out to him, and ever so slowly, he took it.

The three of you were silent while Ford collected himself.

“I-I can do that,” Ford whispered. “Th-Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you smiled before you tried lightening the mood a little. “Does that mean I’m allowed to continue living as a girl now?”

Ford snickered, “I suppose I can permit it.”

You shoved him lightly, and he laughed weakly while Stan tightened his embrace before giving his brother an affectionate noogie.

Despite your reassurances, you knew it would take Ford more time to be comfortable with you again after such a shock. A lifetime of bullying because of his condition wouldn’t magically disappear from a few heartfelt words. But you wanted this opportunity to prove yourself to him and Stan that you were being true and did genuinely enjoy their company, so you weren’t about to turn away the chance you were offered.

The boys roughhouses a little while longer before they turned on you and tackled you to the ground.

That was when the bedroom door swung open, and Filbrick Pines stared at the three children with absolute stoicism.

Well…you supposed introductions were in order.

Chapter Text

Filbrick Pines loomed in the doorway with the build of a golem and the presence of a haunting spectre. His silence chilled the room, and his sunglasses made it impossible to assume what the man was thinking or feeling. His shoulders were broad and firm, further accentuated by his striped suit. The tightness of his collar emphasised his double chin and the giant mole on the right side of his face, making it difficult to guess his age.

The man who valued money more than his family and threw his underage son onto the streets after losing potential – strong emphasis on potential – millions of dollars. And seeing him in front of you now, it wasn’t hard to envision him throwing Stan out for simply being the “dumber” twin. Ice rolled off him in waves, and you felt like a floundering fool for being unprepared for his arrival despite breaking into his house and being given no forewarning.

You wanted so desperately to judge the man from the little information you gathered, both from your mother and the show, but ever since your past life, you kept your thoughts to yourself until you learned more about a person from the source. You had learned the hard way too often that believing gossip and making presumptions led to misunderstandings from both parties, and it only ever caused grief and drama.

Hell, there were a couple of times you had said something the wrong way, and whoever you had been speaking to misconstrued what you said, and rather than asking for clarification, took it and ran their mouth and spread rumours about you. You never wanted to put someone else through something similar, even if that person was Filbrick Pines, an adult married man with enough experience to know better.

You digressed.

You wanted a peaceful second existence.

So, holding off on judging Filbrick Pines was paramount for the time being.

The twins, who had tackled you to the ground just moments ago, had since leapt to their feet at the sight of their father, leaving you sprawled on the ground to fend for yourself. Unbothered, you got up and dusted yourself off. Wiping your hands on the edge of your shirt, you walked over to Filbrick Pines and held your hand out.

“Hello, sir. I’m Halfrida Maes’ daughter and a friend of your sons. We live next door at Hot Belgium Waffles. It’s nice to meet you, Mr Pines.”

Filbrick shook your hand firmly, only one shake before dropping it, but he didn’t return the greeting, neither confirming nor denying whether he was bothered by your intrusion into his house.

You entered without permission, did not greet the hosts, and intruded into their personal space. By all rights, he could’ve made a fuss about your ill manners and kicked you out, and you wouldn’t have a leg to stand on, yet he remained stoic.

“It’s common courtesy to enter people’s houses through the front door,” he stated.

There wasn’t any inflexion in his tone. He was simply stating a fact and waiting to see how you interpreted his statement. A weaker-willed person would admit their sins under the pressure the man exuded, but you had just come off a draining emotional high reconciling with Stan and Ford and weren’t about to put up with Filbrick Pines’ mind games.

“You’re right. I apologise for intruding, Mr Pines. I had snuck in to discuss a personal matter with Stanley and Stanford.”

“Children don’t have ‘personal matters’.”

“None that concern you, sir.”

“They are my sons. Their business is my business.”

“We all have our opinion.”

“I’m not impressed.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“You, girl – you claim you’re friends with my sons?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good luck with that.”

And with that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

What’s that supposed to mean…? Did he have such little faith that his sons were amazing people worthy of having friends?! Your mind raced, furiously defending the twins in your head before you reminded yourself that you needed to remain calm. Spiking your blood pressure at such a young age wouldn’t do future you any favours.

Calm… You needed to be calm…

Deep breaths…

Either way, it seemed like you were let off the hook and weren’t about to be dragged by the ear through the café’s front door, embarrassing you and your mother, so you decided to take the Cold War pact as a nice enough peace treaty. It would probably be wiser to enter the Pines Pawns from the entrance next time and come with a gift as an additional peace offering, just in case. Bribery went a long way with the Pines family if adult Stanley Pines was anyone to go by.

Maybe a cake…

Filbrick seemed like the kind of man’s man who would only drink black coffee even if he hated it. So, maybe a coffee loaf or your mother’s special chocolate cake with a dash of coffee powder - A win-win all-round.

Just as you nodded at your brilliant plan, your body lurched forward, sending you tumbling back onto the ground and buried underneath a heavy body. The air escaped your lungs, and you immediately began coughing up a storm.

“That was amazing! I can’t believe you stood up to Pa like that!” Stan screamed in your ear.

Alright, you had enough manhandling today! You were so tired.

You kicked Stan clean in the hip, sending him rolling away from you with a yelp.

“Get off me, you oaf! Sweet Christmas, don’t yell in my ear! Are you trying to rupture my eardrums?!”

Stan’s voice was only going to get deeper and more gravelly, and you did not need him making a habit of screaming in your ear when he wanted your attention. Ow! Damn it, that hurt! A headache began forming on the side of your head. You felt someone, likely Ford, gingerly touch your arm, and when you didn’t pull away, he tightened his grip and helped you to your feet.

Rubbing the back of your head, you decided then that it would be better to leave through the front door rather than risk jumping through the window again.

“Ar-Are you okay?” Ford asked.

“Yeah – just wasn’t expecting it. Seriously, Stan, what was that?”

Stan rolled up with a grin, although his hand still massaged his side. He ignored you and looked like he would bounce off the walls at any minute. Where all the excitement came from, you hadn’t the slightest idea.

“Did you see that, Sixer? She stood up to Pa!”

“I didn’t stand up to anyone,” you clarified.

“Stood up to him!”

You rolled your eyes and shoulders as you steadied yourself with Ford’s help. You gave him a thankful smile, which he returned a bit hesitantly. He was slowly coming around, but he was already making better progress than when he first learned of your gender.

“I,” you said, cutting through the light atmosphere and quietening the twins, “I need to go, but…uh, are we okay?”

Stan walked over, and Ford pulled away to join him in front of you. Then they both gave you their most award-winning smile and all the stress and worry fell off your shoulders. Stan’s sunburnt, chubby cheeks puffed up and showed off his band-aid, and Ford’s glasses caught the sliver of sunshine through the window and made them sparkle ever so slightly.

“Yeah!” They agreed in unison.

You went to hug them but stopped. Before, when you hugged them, it was a similarly emotional moment, but they were under the assumption that you were a boy.

“Can I hug you guys?” You practically whispered.

The twins looked at each other. Stan looked at Ford concerned while Ford looked like he was hyping himself up before he looked at Stan and raised an eyebrow which made Stan blush for some reason until they both finally opened their arms and pulled you in. They wrapped their arms around you, and you happily returned the favour, squeezing them with all the strength your tiny nine-year-old arms could muster.

It was nice.

Stan was the one who walked you out.

You held Ford’s hands one more time before you left and told him not to be a stranger. He assured you he wouldn’t and was looking forward to hanging out with you again. You squeezed first, then he followed.

Stan grabbed you by the back of the collar and, thankfully, only had to tug you once to get you moving. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder so you didn’t wander off, which you rolled your eyes at. You might’ve broken into their house through their bedroom window, but it wasn’t like you were on a mission to break any more laws of hospitality. You would like your mother to live past forty, thank you very much.

When you almost tripped over a fold in the carpet, and your head bounced off Stan’s cheek, you swatted him off of you and told him to let go. When Stan took his arm back without protest, you paused and watched him for a moment.

Stan scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, a faint blush dusting his burnt cheeks.

“Thanks…for that,” Stan muttered. “what you said to Ford back there. It means a lot. It’s only been a year since the incident, but it messed him up bad.”

“I’m sorry you and Ford had to go through that. Kids can be really cruel sometimes.”

Stan scoffed. “You can say that again. I mean, every man wants a gal of their own. And Sixer's no exception. I mean, back then, Ford was head over glasses for her, but I always knew Cathy Crenshaw was a snob. But she was the foxiest snob in third grade, so who could blame him.”

“…Foxy?” You mutter to yourself, baffled.

You really were in the 60s…Never in your life would you describe someone, or even something, as foxy, let alone a kid. Sweet sasparilla, you weren’t cut out for this sometimes.

Stan ignored you and continued to rant.

“Who didn’t have a crush on her back then?! Then, Sixer gets his lucky break during sports one day when he gets paired up with her for the three-legged race, but the second he grabs her hand so she doesn’t fall flat on her face, she screams. She tried to throw him off, but the ropes kept them tied together. The girls jumped Ford, yelling at him to let her go! As if he can do anything about it! I fought them – got them to back off – but by the time Mr Jillians finally got there, Ford’s a mess! Cathy Crenshaw!” Stan kicked the wooden bannister along the outside of the stairs.

You weren’t sure what to say…or if you even should say anything.

You ran a hand down your face.

“Stan…” You muttered.

“Stanley Pines!” A shrill voice screeched, “You better not be kicking my bannister again!”

“Eep!” Stan yelped.

“Oh boy…” You bemoaned.

The click of heels was muffled by the carpet on the narrow staircase, and the visage of Mrs Pines grew larger and more defined as she climbed up towards the two of you. You backed away to allow the woman enough space to enter the landing while Stan froze momentarily before offering his mother a sheepish grin.

“Az taazru lei…” Mrs Pines grumbled when she spotted the playing-dumb expression on her son’s face.

Stan looked at you for help, but you raised your eyebrow at him instead. He gaped at you. He clasped at his chest, a faux pained expression at your refusal to defend him against his mother. You snorted.

Your little huff caught Mrs Pines’ attention, and she paused.

“Who are you?”

You jumped at suddenly being addressed.

“Oh, uh, hello, Mrs Pines. I’m Stan and Ford’s friend.” You gave an awkward wave, and Stan snickered at your embarrassment.

If you were forced to describe Mrs Pines, the word that came to mind was willowy and angular. She wore a loose-fitting dress that made her look thinner than she actually was, and her make-up made her sharp cheekbones even sharper. That wasn’t to say Mrs Pines was an ugly woman – far from it, actually. If anything, by the standards of the time, Mrs Pines was a beauty that would make the men in Glass Shard Beach envious of Mr Pines. However, she simply wasn’t your type.

Now that you had a good look at both Mr and Mrs Pines, you could say the twins took more after their father, but they had their mother’s eyes. And when Mrs Pines smiled at you, not a completely genuine smile, a business smile, one that said she wanted to be rude but thought better of it, you also noticed the boys inherited that as well.

“Our little marvel, Stanford, and free spirit Stanley made a friend,” she cooed.

A chill ran down your spine. Oh no…not the cooing. You got enough of that from your aunts and oma up in New York. You definitely didn’t want to deal with even more of it on home soil. Time Baby, save you.

“Y-Yep. That’s me. We became friends yesterday.”

“Well, sweetness, if you ever want your fortune told, you let Auntie Caryn know. I’ll even give yous a discount – how does fifty cents sound?”

Stan jabbed his finger into his mouth, fake gagging at his mother’s change in fake cheerful demeanour. You tried your best to ignore him.

“That sounds nice, Mrs Pines. I’d like that.” You agreed. “I earn pocket money by helping my mother around the shop sometimes, so maybe someday soon.”

Mrs Pines perked up.

“A working gal. Well, it seems my boys have chosen a good one. Well, you let me know whether you prefer a rabbi or a priest. Filbrick will insist on a rabbi, but I doubt the boys will fuss over which.”

“Mrs Pines!” You gasped, scandalised.

“Oh, hush. And just call me your Auntie Caryn.”

“Oi, Ma, what are you talking about?” Stan interrupted. “What’s a rabbi or priest gotta do with anything?”

Mrs Pines turned to her youngest son and patted him on the head placatingly. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Stan scowled furiously at that.

You buried your blushing face in your hands.

You just wanted to go home.

Chapter Text

And so the summer continued.

"Your room's a lot girlier than I thought."

"What's girly about it? It's a normal room, Stan."

"This?!"

"That's a skirt. I'm allowed to wear skirts."

"Suspicious."

"Hey, Maes, why do you have so many maps and books about Oregon?"

"It's just some personal research. Don't worry about it, Ford."

"Meet Shanklin, The Possum!"

"Ahhh! Put that thing down before it gives one of us rabies! Ford, do something!"

"What?! No way! Shanklin's a good possum."

"Spiced Gingerbread, Stan! Why are you putting it in your pants?! Ford?!"

"It's finally here!"

"What's here, Ford?"

"I still can't believe, after spending ages cleaning the shop, you spent last month's allowance on another book, Sixer?"

"Yep! Weird Urban Legends From New Jersey!"

"Jersey has urban legends? We're pretty far from...nevermind."

"What are we looking for, Sixer? A radioactive mega squid? A sentient hot dog?"

"Yeah, Ford, sit down and show us your new book already! I'm curious."

"S-Sure. Shuffle over."

"Hey, Crampelter, where did you get the old-timey paper crown?!"

"What's it to you, girl squirt?"

"I want one!"

"…At His Little Majesty's Royal Hamburger Bonanza."

"You know you can just say Burger King."

"What are you talking about?"

"I didn't know you could play the piano, Ford."

"Oh, yeah, Sixer's awesome! He's won a whole bunch of competitions. His extra finger means no one can perform the same melodies or whatever."

"Amazing."

"It's- It's not that impressive…"

"What?! Of course, it is, Ford. If I chose an instrument, I would go with the violin, but my fingers aren't what they used to be. They're too stubby."

"I wanted to play the violin too, but my fingers kept getting tangled."

"That's rough, buddy."

"Those are snobby posh people instruments. Now, the guitar and drums are where it's at."

"I mean, you're right. They'll be even more popular once rock and roll enters the scene."

"Rock and what now?"

 "…I can't believe it's actually called His Little Majesty's Royal Hamburger Bonanza…"

"What else would they call it?"

"Burger King! How about that?!"

"Yeesh! What's gotten you so riled up? Oi, Ford, back me up here. She's biting my head off over nothing!"

"What?! Do you have a WacDonald's, too?!"

"Father's Day is coming up, and my mama is taking me to New York early to spend the weekend with my grandpa."

"But we were going to go hunt the Jersey Devil."

"Sorry, guys."

"Are you going to eat your WacNuggets?"

"… I'm going to end up on the news…"

"What?"

"I was just thinking - We've never met your dad."

"Heh, neither have I. But that's a deadbeat for you."

"What? Never? Stan and I theorised that he was away on business or at war or something."

"Nah. Mama's boyfriend skipped town when she told him, but his parents were so furious at him when they found out they gifted Mama our place so she could support herself."

"Wow."

"Yeah, old money and all that. We got lucky."

"Let me get this straight. You two found and claimed an abandoned treehouse and then built a water-balloon-launching machine when Crampelter and his goons tried to overthrow you?"

"That about sums it up."

"And you didn't invite me?"

"...Uh...."

"In our defence, you were out of the state."

"Can I see it now?"

"What on earth happened here? Are you two okay?!"

"Dickie…?"

"I'm alright, Ascot."

"Thank the heavens, you're alive. It looks like you two fell off the cliff…and where are your clothes?"

"By Jove, Ascot, an angel has heard our pleas and come to our aid."

"Golly, you're right, Dickie."

"…Do you guys always talk like that?"

"Hey, Ford…just out of curiosity…could you read this aloud for me?"

"Whatcha makin' him read, Maes?"

"It's just a little experiment."

"Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons – Don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! Did I say that right?"

"Hmm… it's not the same. Maybe when you're older. Thanks anyway."

"…Did that make any sense to you, Sixer?"

"Not a bit."

"Sorry, guys, but do you mind if we turn off the radio?"

"Does that new British boy band, Scarabs, grate on your ears too?"

"They're not that bad, Stan."

"Says you. I'm just glad there's finally someone we know who doesn't have terrible taste in music. I'm turning that dumb thing off."

"Honestly, Stan... Fine. But if we're turning the radio off, how about we put one of my classical records on instead."

"Urgh! One of your nerd disks?"

"I think I'd prefer that too. Stan, do you mind?"

"Fine... We'll listen to the dead pianists instead."

"…Thanks, guys."

"It's bad enough that you two have photographers all over town, but now you're stalkers, too? How the Sibling Brothers have fallen."

"We are simply conducting an investigation in which Miss Maes is the primary subject."

“Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to.”

"Hey! Give that back, Stanley Pines!"

"Hey, Sixer, what do you say we bring this file to her right now?"

"It's only right that she knows what's going on."

"Alright! Come catch us, suckers! Hit it, Ford!"

"Stan, is it just me, or is there something different about her?"

"She looks the same to me. Oi, Maes! Get your ugly mug over here!"

"Still not as ugly as you, Stanley!"

"Stan! We're twins! Stop antagonising her about her looks."

"Pfft! Sixer here wants to know what's different about you."

"Oh? I've been growing my hair out lately if that's what you mean."

"Growing your hair out? What are you? A hippy?"

"Would it kill you to compliment me?!"

"Your head'll end up bigger than Ford's if I start doing that!"

"You'll never get a girlfriend at that rate."

"I'll show you! I'll have a girlfriend before the end of summer!"

"I'll take that bet."

"Oh boy…"

"You're the Sibling Brothers, correct?"

"O-Oh! M-Miss Maes, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise. I don't know if you know Stanley and Stanford Pines, but they mentioned you the other day. I feel like I should apologise for their behaviour preemptively. It's nice to meet you."

"Dickie, at your beck."

"And Ascot, at your call. The Pines twins didn't…happen to give you anything on our behalf, did they?"

"They did, but Shanklin the Possum ran off with it, and they refused to tell me what it was when I asked, saying it didn't matter anymore."

"Well, that's mighty convenient."

"Wow, I didn't think twins ever actually spoke in unison. You two are delightful. Actually, the reason I wanted to talk to you – if you don't mind – is that I heard that you write books and was wondering if you were willing to give a gal a few tips."

"O-Of course!"

"Stan…"

"Don't."

"I think she's got you beat on this one."

"How did she get a girlfriend before me?!"

"You've totally lost this bet."

"You're stupid. I like that in a man."

"Oh, go suck a lemon, Maes! We've been in solitary confinement since I confessed to taking Pa's gold chain! How am I supposed to get a girlfriend from in here?! It's unfair!"

"That sounds like a you problem."

"So, you just went up to a girl and asked her to pretend to be your girlfriend for a bet, and she agreed?"

"Yep."

"Fascinating…"

"No! It's not, Ford! It's embarrassing!"

"Welp, summer's over, and there is still no girlfriend. I expect my compliment on Monday, Stanley."

"Come on, Stan, one compliment isn't that hard."

"Precisely. For example. Your glasses make you look very cute and charming, Stanford."

"Well…um, your hairband makes your face look more presentable."

"4 outta 10, but you're getting better."

"I'll take it."

"Are you seriously giving our nerd Complimenting Classes?"

"Are you ready for school?"

"Never."

"Pfft. You two are such big babies. Come on. This year will be different."

"That's true, I suppose."

"We're gonna kick butt this year!"

"Heh. Night, Stan. Night, Ford."

"Good night."

"Night, Maes."