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“Are you serious, Stan?”
“Aww, come on, Ford. It’ll be fun!”
Ford raised an eyebrow at his brother’s cheeky childish grin before once again turning a disdainful eye to what he would call the poorly constructed exhibit Stan had dragged him to. “Stan, do you honestly think we’ll find this- this rickety display scary? That’s the point isn’t it? To get scared?” He crossed his arms, utter perplexity sweeping across his face. “For one, I do not see the attraction in trying to scare ourselves and two- there’s no way! We’ve fought things far more deadly than ghosts, all of this will be a walk in the park-”
“Ford.” Stan groaned, rolling his eyes. “Come on. It’s some harmless fun, it’s not about whether it’s scary or not. It’s Halloween!! I want cheap and tacky and, for once, no actual danger.”
“I thought you liked danger? You sure run into it a lot.”
Stan shrugged, rolling his eyes. “I’m still an old man, and a night off is in order. And as I already said, it’s Halloween. It’s like law or something that we don’t actually chase after a ghost or ghoul or something, right? That sounds dumb even to me, asking for trouble. Besides-” Stan raised his voice as Ford seemed about ready to argue that last point as superstitious nonsense. He waited until his twin’s mouth snapped shut audibly, before regretting even starting and turning away to look up at the fake haunted house they stood before, as if that would make his words seem less sincere.
“Besides, we didn’t get home in time to celebrate it with the kids. I wanna be able to give them a story or two just like they’ll be giving us.”
“Oh.”
There was silence for a moment. Stan huffed, practically feeling the soppy sympathetic smile that Ford was giving him from behind. “So? We going in or what?” He coughed, turning back to Ford as if nothing had happened. “It might look bad but I chose this one because there’s some history here. There’s a ghost walk too, around the grounds behind it, thought that might interest you- or something?” His words ended almost in a question, suddenly hesitant about this whole idea. He hadn’t really expected his brother to be so disbelieving of spending Halloween calmly against every other night of the year.
“Cheap and tacky?” Ford coughed, trying his best to bring a bit of cheer back to the conversation. He hadn’t quite realised how much thought Stan had put into this. “That’s what you called it, right?” He couldn’t help the hum of amusement, his eyebrows quirking up again. “And here was me thinking this place reminded me of a certain other establishment back home…”
Stan gasped, a hand going to his chest as if Ford had physically wounded him, even as his grin plastered across his face again. “How dare you, Sixer! I mean, yes the Mystery Shack is cheap and tacky-” He gave a cheeky wink. “-part of its charm, and I dare you to defy that.” His grin only widened as Ford seemed to put his hands up in a sign of defeat. “And yes this place is similar in that respect but they are completely different tourist traps.”
“Oh?” Ford’s mouth quirked up, Stan’s excited energy practically contagious. “I’d say they’re fairly similar- supernatural anomalies, stories about what to watch out for nearby- the Mystery Shack’s scope is just bigger. Not just ghosts but everything you could think of-”
“No ghosts.”
“Huh?” Ford blinked as Stan shook his head.
“There were never any ghosts at the Mystery Shack- ironically even when it was called the Murder Hut.” Stan gave a slightly twisted smile before his normal one slipped back into place. “See? Completely different. Ghosts and no ghosts.”
“But, why? That seems fairly obvious. It would have been easy to find some history in Gravity Falls for a quick exhibit…” Ford’s head tilted as Stan continued to shake his, taking the first steps towards the tourist trap.
“Nah, pretending there was a ghost in the house felt…” Stan scrunched up his nose before rolling his shoulders and straightening his back. “I don’t know- it just felt off, that’s all. Now are we gonna have a fun night or what?”
“R-right.” Ford felt his mouth go dry as Stan walked away, the full implication of Stan’s flippant words winding him as they hit him in the stomach. Even if Stan tried to pretend he didn’t know the exact reason for it, it was obvious to him.
Having a ghost in the house felt too close to home, like he’d already resigned himself to what had happened. He wouldn’t have had the hope to keep on trying to open the portal for thirty years if he had thought for even a second that…
Ford scurried after his brother, the looming notion hanging heavy in his stomach but he tried to shake it.
They were here now, they had won.
Stan was right, they should make the most of a night off.
Ford didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted when the man at the door gave them both concerned looks as they handed their money over.
He chose amused over indignation within only a few moments. Stan’s chuckles wereinfectious. The place was filled with mannequins on springs that flipped up as they walked past, the lights flickering in a way that made it hard to see some until they suddenly jumped up. He had a sneaking suspicion a few had been turned off though, actors covered in white paint and dusty rags seemed to hide in the shadows instead of scurrying out into the open, anxiously watching the pair as if ready to jump in if anything happened.
As it was, one of them did end up stumbling towards them in a panic, not reading the situation correctly until it was too late. All she had seen was two old men curled up on the floor.
What had actually happened, was that after giggling their way through most of the exhibit, something had finally made Stan jump.
Ford didn’t even know he could reach that pitch. The sound was so similar to one of Dipper’s voice cracks that Ford had found himself doubling over, his laughter booming out across the room, everything forgotten as his brother huffed and puffed at the one mannequin that had made him flinch by dropping from the ceiling onto his head. He could feel Stan beside him trying not to give in to his own laughter as he took a step back, accidentally treading on a mannequin that hit him in the leg as he did so.
Suffice to say, Stan was not the only one who jumped in that room, except Ford’s jump was silent and lurching, more of a hitch of breath and a spin to see his would be attacker - straight into his brother where they ended up tumbling to the floor in a heap with another rather loud yelp.
There was a blink of silence as the pair tried to comprehend how they were now staring at the ceiling before the laughter started up again. They couldn’t quite bring themselves to get up again, as if it was fairly obvious to both of them that trying would result in more falling from the incessant chuckles wracking them.
Ford was sure the girl, who had flitted over to them in worry, had given an almost endearing smile at the two old men completely oblivious to their surroundings. Not quite able to contain herself as she tried her hardest to stay in character and check on them at the same time.
After that the rooms grew steadily scarier, the occupants no longer fearful of hurting them, though all it seemed to do was add to their enjoyment. There were disbelieving quirking eyebrows and hums of interest as if the old men were happy with their efforts if not convinced by them. Not that any of the ‘ghosts’ seemed to mind the jovial atmosphere they brought with them, a breath of fresh air against the more gullible guests or sheer lack of interest and scorn that was far more frequent.
The night continued in a similar manner, the pair giggling like a couple of kids at the back of the assembled group as they were led around the grounds and told the haunting tales of the area. Stan kept trying to convince him to sneak away from the group, to go explore on their own, maybe even sneak back into the house and help the ‘ghosts’ scare the next punters. Ford had felt a rush of worry, a brief fizzle of anxiety but also the bubble of excitement that he hadn’t experienced since they were kids and Stan had convinced him to join him in sneaking into the small carnival that had appeared one summer. The place had been bustling with activity, warm and exhilarating and absolutely terrifying to him. He remembered dragging Stan away early, after only a quick explore, much to his protests though he had followed without much actually fighting. All he’d had to do was ask ‘what would Pa think?’ and Stan had led the way out, complaints forgotten.
Now he felt like the situation had changed, a sharp grin forming on his face to match his brothers.
After all, it wasn’t like they had any adults to worry about this time. They’d both lived lives full of daring activities, far more noteworthy than sneaking around somewhere they weren’t meant to. The more he thought about it actually, the more he was sure they’d both done that in itself more often than not.
So what if they got into trouble just this once?
…You’re both far too old for this.
And that gave him all the more reason to play along.
Ford opened his mouth to agree before he realised with a jolt that the group had already unknowingly left them behind as they stood there debating. He turned to look ahead of them, watching the group slowly fade into the gloom. “Huh, that was…easier than expected.”
Stan snorted beside him, shaking his head. “It’s not like they were watching us like hawks there. Now are you coming or what?”
Ford nodded, following Stan quickly into the dark grounds to see what they could find for themselves. There was a content silence between them for a few moments before Stan seemed unable to resist, the performer sneaking in, creating his own stories for the place as they walked side by side in the gloom.
Ford felt himself drawn into the ghost stories, the spin and intrigue behind the tales far more convincing than the ‘real’ stories the guide had told as he held his breath and listened intently, caught up in the moment. Once Stan finished, he felt the need to do the same, telling him myths and legends he had heard in his travels across the multiverse that had stuck with him, ones that could be applied to the place they were situated with little editing.
Stan hummed appreciatively at his tales, his turn to listen intently as a small smile stayed permanently etched into his face, most probably glad to hear of moments that had stayed with Ford from his travels that weren’t horrifying.
Ford filed away the thought for later, wondering whether they should spend more time telling stories to one another once they were back at sea.
It wasn’t until a while later that he realised unlike when they were kids, he felt absolutely no fear in being caught. Even if they were caught, all he could think about was running off with his brother, laughing all the while and wondering how much Mabel might scold them in the morning.
“Whoa.”
“No.
“But-”
“No.”
Ford pouted, eyes still stuck on the ghostly glow emanating from the treeline at the back of the property. They had been telling their tales when it had appeared, as if drawn to their banter, their laughter and curious chatter. It hovered silently, a few metres into the woods as if beckoning them to follow.
“Can’t we just see-”
“Ford. What part of ‘night off’ do you not understand?” Stan’s face was deadpan, arms crossed but Ford knew that if he pushed, Stan would agree to help him though he’d be disappointed in their evening ending so abruptly.
Ford wasn’t quite sure if he could do that. As much as he loved sailing the sea with his brother, fighting whatever was thrown at them together and adventuring like they always said they would, he didn’t think either of them had had this much fun in ages.
He didn’t really get much of an option a few seconds later as he felt a hand grip into the back of his collar and tug him back towards the haunted house. A new bubble of laughter escaped Ford as he twisted in the grip, almost falling as he tilted his head back to look at his disgruntled brother.
“Cheap and tacky, remember? You are practically inviting things to go wrong tonight.” The grumbled mutters were so quiet that Ford wasn’t even sure they were meant for him as his brother strode along, thoroughly put out by the turn of events.
“Tomorrow then?”
Stan snorted out a choked laugh, shaking his head fondly as he glanced down at his twin, almost shocked into stumbling himself at the acceptance. “Wow, I didn’t actually think that would work. Yeah, sure. Tomorrow.”
“OK.” Ford tugged his collar out of Stan’s grip before snaking an arm around his shoulder instead. “Now come on, you haven’t finished telling me about the lady you met in the woods.”
“I said that was for another night.” Stan prodded him in the ribs. “Tonight’s about fake stories, nothing real allowed tonight, remember?”
“Yeah but that story sounds far more interesting. And I mean…I didn’t chase after that ghost when I could have…”
“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” Stan cast his eyes up as Ford grinned cheekily at him.
“Learnt from the best.”
Stan laughed again, the sound a gruff bark in the night air. “Alright, alright. So one night when I was looking for your journals I may have fallen head over heels for a girl I saw in the woods- literally that is! I fell at her feet the first time I saw her…”
Ford glanced over his shoulder as Stan continued, catching the ghostly figure watching them as they walked away.
Part of him itched to turn around. To ignore Stan’s wishes and investigate.
Instead he glanced over, seeing Stan’s face lit up as he chattered away, arm moving with every word as he regaled his story. Ford straightened up, turning to continue their walk back towards the street and back through the town they had found themselves in, sure at this point that their destination would be their small piece of home on the dock where they could pour themselves a drink and continue chatting well into the night.
After all, a night off was good once in a while.