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elishevart · 3 days ago

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Stanuary '25 - Week 2: Wanted

I'm desperately trying to catch up on Stanuary lmao. So here's week two, a bit late. This takes place in my Horse Boy Stan AU, where... Well, this is actually the start of my Horse Boy Stan AU. And you'll see why it's called that.

Enjoy.

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Sirens followed Stan as he sprinted out of the tiny town.

“Stupid…fucking…cops,” he panted. He glanced over his shoulder. Though he could still hear the local sheriff chasing him down, he couldn’t see the car.

I might actually make it outta here! A stitch burned in his side. He winced and slowed down. Ugh. I gotta get back to the gym. Though being out of shape isn’t usually this big of a problem. He’d stopped in, according to the sign at the city limits, a town called Gumption, for gas. At the gas station, he’d pocketed a pack of cigarettes and some candy bars, only to be spotted by the sheriff buying lotto tickets at the counter.

And, of course, the Stanmobile wouldn’t start when Stan got back to her.

Yeah, I’ve been ignoring the check engine light for a while but you’d think she’d choose better timing to crap out! The stitch in his side now gone, Stan picked up the pace again. There weren’t many streets in Gumption, so even with Stan’s skill at evading cops, he would be easy to track down. It doesn’t help that there’s just cornfields for miles…

After a few more minutes, Stan could feel himself losing steam again. He slowed to a stop, so out of breath he felt like he was going to throw up. He collapsed against a nearby fence and focused on not puking.

There was an amused neigh.

Stan’s head shot up. He stared. On the other side of the fence was a horse. It had a white mane and tail and a yellow coat. A shiver ran down Stan’s spine as he locked eyes with it. There was intelligence in the horse’s light blue gaze. A lot more than there should be.

At least…I think so. Stan frowned. I haven’t seen a horse in a long time. The horse tilted its head slightly and snorted. Maybe this is a sign. The sirens were getting louder again. Shit. I can’t escape this chase on foot, can I? Stan climbed on top of the fence. The horse continued to watch him fearlessly. Stan took a deep breath. Please don’t let this be one of the dumbest things I’ve done. He jumped from the fence, landing solidly on the horse’s back.

The force of the impact made the breath whoosh out of him, but he managed to grab the horse’s mane just before it reared up.

“Nuh-uh,” Stan ground out. He gripped the mane tighter, interlacing his fingers with the white hair. The horse then bucked, but Stan held on. He leaned forward to wrap his arms around the horse’s neck for a better hold and hugged its torso with his legs. The horse bucked and reared repeatedly before giving up with a frustrated whinny.

“All right, horsey, you’re gonna listen to me,” Stan whispered. The horse’s ears turned around to face him. “We’re getting out of here, then I’m gonna let you go and you can come back home. Got it?” The horse whinnied furiously. “Good.” Stan dug his heels into the horse’s sides.

The horse bolted forward at top speed. Stan swallowed nervously as they approached a different side of the large paddock the horse had been in. The horse leapt, clearing the fence with plenty of room. Then it changed direction, heading for a building off in the distance.

“I told you, not yet!” Stan hissed. He yanked on the horse’s mane. The horse changed direction again, this time towards a nearby forest. “That’s better.”

The horse sped across the open land, arriving at the forest’s edge in minutes. Stan couldn’t hear the sirens anymore, but he spurred the horse to run a bit longer. Once they were well into the forest, he pulled on the horse’s mane, bringing it to a stop. He untangled his fingers from the horse’s mane, carefully slung one leg onto the same side as the other, then promptly fell to the forest floor. The horse whinnied in a way that sounded eerily like laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” Stan muttered. He stood up and brushed himself off. “Just…get outta here. I’m done with you.” The horse snorted at him. It turned away.

Lightning fast, the horse’s back legs kicked out, catching Stan in the gut. He let out a grunt of pain and collapsed. The horse neighed at him before galloping off. The sound of hoofbeats faded.

Stan lifted his shirt to look at the damage. He winced.

That’s gonna leave a mark.

-----

The streets of Gumption were nearly empty by the time Stan got back to the Stanmobile. He’d waited a few hours to let the heat die down before going back to the gas station. That, on top of how long it took him to find his way there, meant he didn’t get back to his car until night was beginning to fall.

Stan leaned against the Stanmobile, letting himself rest after the long walk. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, then glanced at the gas station, worried an attendant might see and scold him for smoking near the pumps. The odds the Stanmobile would miraculously work now were low, so he’d have to escape on foot again if he was recognized.

Thankfully, no one was there.

Stan raised an eyebrow. Not only was there no one inside the gas station, not even someone on register, but it looked like all the lights were off.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gas station closed this early. Stan took a drag off his cigarette. These backwater two horse towns are different planets, I swear. With nothing else to do until he finished his cigarette, Stan settled back to watch the sun set over the cornfields. The sun slowly dipped below the horizon.

Abruptly, the stitch in Stan’s side returned with a vengeance. The sudden pain made him gasp and drop the still lit cigarette. He had just enough presence of mind to grind the ember out underneath his heel before his leg spasmed and he fell to the ground.

What…what…is going on? Any other coherent thoughts became impossible as pain surged through Stan’s body, from his toes to his fingers to the tip of his nose. The worst heartburn he’d ever had spread through his chest, his heart pounding so loud that Stan felt certain if there had been anyone in the gas station, they would have heard it. The aches, cramps, and spasms jolting through him were what he could only imagine dying felt like.

Stan’s vision went dark.

When it returned, it was…wrong. Stan wasn’t sure exactly what the difference was between his vision before and his vision now. All that he knew was it had changed.

You can’t afford to see a doctor. You’re just gonna have to get used to this. He lifted his head and looked around, trying to get a handle on whatever was going on. Once he felt confident to do so, he struggled to his feet.

All four of them.

Stan let out a panicked neigh and stumbled away. He closed his eyes, terrified at what he would see if he opened them. But he couldn’t avoid it forever.

His heart racing anew, Stan slowly opened his eyes. He walked up to the Stanmobile. He’d just cleaned her, and had done a thorough enough job that she was practically a mirror. It was something he’d been very proud of. But as he stared at his reflection, his heart slowed and sank.

No. That’s not- that’s not possible! Staring back at him was a horse, with a light brown coat and black mane and tail. How- what- Stan took a deep breath. So did the horse. Okay. This has got to be some weird dream or something, right? Maybe that horse actually kicked me in the head and I got knocked out. I’m still in the woods. That’s gotta be it. If I close my eyes and wait for a while, I’ll wake up in the forest with the worst headache of my life or something.

The roar of a motorcycle broke through the silence of the small town, drawing Stan’s attention. He turned his head to watch the bike and its rider pull into the gas station. The rider put down the kickstand and stepped off, then stalked over to the Stanmobile. As the rider got closer, Stan realized, with a growing sense of dread, that he knew the man.

Jimmy Snakes. Dammit, what are you doing here? He screwed his eyes shut. It doesn’t matter. This is just a dream, remember?

He heard Jimmy walk around the car, the spurs of his boots jingling with each step. After a few minutes, Jimmy stopped with a frustrated sigh.

��Dammit,” Jimmy muttered to himself. “He already skipped town. Or he got caught by the cops. He’s not one to leave his lemon of a car.” Stan’s eyes snapped open. He glared at Jimmy.

“The Stanmobile is twenty times better than your piece of shit hog,” he whinnied angrily. Jimmy startled, like he hadn’t noticed the literal horse feet away from him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Huh. You look like a pretty good stallion. Wonder if you escaped or something.” Jimmy walked up to Stan. “If you did, I bet your owners would pay handsomely for your return.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’d probably get more money from that than I could ever shake down from Pines anyways.”

Nice try, buddy. This is all a dream. This isn’t really happening. It’s not possible. I mean, what are the odds that you’d find me after I turned into a horse? For one thing, people don’t turn into horses!

“It’s a good thing Stan always keeps rope in his backseat, eh?” Jimmy said, winking at Stan. Before Stan’s horrified eyes, he shattered one of the back windows of the Stanmobile, reached in, and grabbed the rope sitting on the backseat. Whistling, Jimmy carefully tied the rope into a loop and tossed it over Stan’s head.

The grin on Jimmy’s face made Stan’s blood run cold. He was beginning to regret allowing, in his shock, Jimmy to casually capture him.

But it’ll be okay. This is all a dream. Stan swallowed. …Right?

#stanuary #gravity falls #gravity falls au #horse boy stan au #stanley pines #jimmy snakes #ficlet

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elishevart · 1 month ago

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Weird Little Critter - Chapter 6: Transitions, Part 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 AO3

Here's the final part of what was meant to be one chapter but turned into three! I would normally space it out a bit more from the previous one, but I'll be going on vacation soon, and I wanted to get this posted before then. Here's this year's final chapter of "Weird Little Critter" from @elishevart and me. Enjoy.

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Banjo reclined on the dock at Lake Gravity Falls, looking up at the clouds slowly lumbering across the bright blue sky. His feet, freed of their shoes, dangled over the edge, dipping into the water, as did Stan’s.

“So, you bait a hook like this,” Stan said, drawing his attention. Banjo looked over at him. Stan was holding out a hook and a wriggling gray worm.

I know that kind of worm ain’t gray. It’s pink. Darn colorblindness. Banjo tilted his head, a small smile playing around his lips as he watched Stan’s demonstration. At least Stan’s charm ain’t affected by his color palette. When Stan first came to stay with them, Angie had clashed with him constantly. But there was something about him. Stan just kept worming his way into Angie’s good graces with his cheesy sense of humor and random moments of kindness and warmth. The budding emotions Angie had felt towards Stan weren’t changed now that she was Banjo. If anything, they seemed to be stronger. I ain’t sure what that could mean ‘bout me. Banjo looked across the lake. The dark blue water rippled lazily. But I also ain’t sure if I want to open that door or leave it alone.

“Think you can do it yourself?” Stan asked. Banjo rolled his eyes. He sat up, grabbed the other fishing rod, and quickly baited the hook flawlessly, then cast it out into the lake. Stan’s jaw dropped.

“I told ya I don’t like fishin’, not that I can’t do it,” Banjo drawled. Stan grinned. A faint blush spread across his cheeks. Banjo felt his own face warm slightly in response.

“I thought you would be a bit squeamish about baiting the hook,” Stan said. Banjo laughed.

“Stanley, I grew up on a farm. I slaughtered my first chicken at five years old.”

“Oh. Right.” Stan laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I forgot you grew up on a farm. I just thought- you were a girl and-” Stan cut himself off.

Smart move, feller. You were headin’ fer dangerous territory there.

“I shoulda figured you wouldn’t mind the worms and stuff.” Stan cast his own line. “Why don’t you like fishing?”

“I don’t got the patience fer it,” Banjo sighed. “I’ve always been what my folks called ‘spirited’. Which is code fer never sittin’ still.”

“I know exactly what that’s like,” Stan said. He coughed. “So, uh, hate to break it to you, but I’ve got an ulterior motive for asking you to go fishing with me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Uh.” Stan sighed. “I need to ask you some stuff about when Ford is normally in his lizard form.”

“Salamander.”

“Same difference. Anyways, what do you guys do?”

“Hmm?”

“During full moons. When Ford’s not human. What do you guys do?”

“Well, I ain’t been ‘round fer many moons yet,” Banjo said hesitantly. “But we mostly do research on him, either in his study or the livin’ room.” Stan swatted away a fly that was buzzing around his head.

“And by research you mean…?”

“I write down observations ‘bout him. Things to help figure out more ‘bout his condition, y’know.”

“So no fun,” Stan said flatly. Banjo frowned at him.

“It might not be yer idea of fun, but remember, we’re scientists. We find this sort of thing quite fun. And it’s to better understand his condition, so’s it’s two birds with one stone.”

“Okay, hear me out.” Stan seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I get the two of you nerding out being nerds and actually liking doing research. But…would it still be fun if you were the one being researched?”

“I…” Banjo swallowed. The question was simple, yet ominous. “I don’t rightly know.” Stan nodded.

“I’m gonna tell you what I know,” he said. “After we got home last night, when Ford was all gray, I gave him some food. I expected him to just go to his tank or something. But he stayed with me, curled up on my lap while I watched TV.”

“I walked by later to grab some water. I didn’t see him on yer lap.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he scurried away when you went through the room,” Stan said. Banjo’s blood ran cold. He could feel the color draining from his face.

“He- he was scared of me?” Banjo set aside the fishing rod. He put his head in his hands. “I- I-” The idea was foreign to him.

My whole life, I ain’t never scared a single soul. ‘Cept that one time I sleepwalked into Fidds’ bedroom. How could I have scared Stanford? Tears began to prick the corners of Banjo’s eyes. I didn’t mean to! He’s my friend! A warm hand rested on his shoulder. Banjo looked up.

“I don’t think you scared him,” Stan said softly. “I think…” Stan sighed. “When we were kids, our parents took Ford to a million doctors because of his hands. He got better about it when we got older, since he stopped being poked and prodded as much, but I don’t think he ever really got over his fear of doctors. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still tries to put off appointments for as long as he can.”

“You think that my studyin’ him is bringin’ up bad memories?” Banjo asked. Stan nodded. “But- but he was the one what wanted me to study him! He wanted to learn more ‘bout his condition!”

“He probably didn’t think it through,” Stan said. “Everyone does stuff without thinking sometimes.”

“Fair enough,” Banjo mumbled. Stan squeezed his shoulder.

“All I’m saying is that it might be a good idea for you guys to take a break from the research stuff. I know you couldn’t see him gray, but it was- it wasn’t great. I don’t wanna see him like that again.”

“Agreed.”

“And who knows, maybe he’ll stop being so down on his salamander self once he gets to experience it without being a test subject,” Stan said cheerfully. Banjo managed a small smile.

“That would be nice.” Banjo elbowed Stan. “Hey, you called him the right kind of critter!”

“I listen, I just don’t care,” Stan said with a shrug. Banjo laughed. The bobber of Banjo’s fishing rod wiggled briefly, then began to move. “Looks like you’ve got a bite!” Without warning, Banjo’s fishing rod, resting on the deck beside him, shot off. Banjo attempted to grab the rod rocketing away from him. His eyes widened as he felt himself begin to topple forward.

Shoot! My center of gravity ain’t what it usually is! It was too late. Banjo hit the cold water of the lake. A split second later, he heard a faint splash. A large arm wrapped around his torso, pulling him to the surface.

“You okay?” Stan asked. Banjo stared at him. Stan’s long, dark hair was soaked, sticking to his face and neck.

“Why’d ya jump in after me?” Banjo asked numbly. Stan blinked.

“You didn’t grow up near the ocean like me. I didn’t know if you knew how to swim.”

“Wh-” Banjo covered his mouth, trying to muffle the laughter bubbling up from his chest. “S-Stanley, I grew up swimmin’ in lakes just like this one!”

“Oh.” Stan winced. “Right. I guess I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t either. I should’ve known better ‘n to try to grab somethin’ what was already off the dock.”

“I’ve never seen a fishing rod move like that. Maybe it’s best that you didn’t catch it. Who knows what was on the end of the line?”

“In Gravity Falls? Just ‘bout anything you can imagine,” Banjo said. He reached out for the dock and gripped it. A few wooden splinters dug into his hands as he pulled himself up. Beside him, Stan was doing the same thing. They sat on the dock for a few moments before bursting into laughter. “I can’t believe ya went in after me instead of just waitin’ fer me to surface!” Banjo chuckled.

“Sue me for not wanting you to drown,” Stan said, punching Banjo’s shoulder playfully.

“I’m a grown adult!”

“I don’t know your life! How was I supposed to know they teach you how to swim in whatever podunk town you come from?” Stan retorted. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it to one side of his head. Their laughter slowly died down. “Guess we better go back to the house and dry off.”

“Yeah.” Banjo slipped on his blessedly dry shoes. “Bein’ in wet jeans is awful miserable.”

“Wanna come back to the lake to fish after we change?” Stan asked, putting on his own shoes and socks. Banjo cocked his head.

“I don’t know ‘bout fishin’. But we could come back and go fer a hike or somethin’. Did ya know there’s a secret cave behind the waterfall?”

“Really?” Stan’s eyes widened with interest. He leaned in, ever so slightly. Banjo’s breath caught in his throat.

No, no, don’t think ‘bout his wet T-shirt stickin’ to his chest, don’t think ‘bout his hair draped over one shoulder, don’t think ‘bout the sun shinin’ off the water droplets on his skin. Banjo swallowed. Welp. Given I just explicitly thought out all of that, I ain’t doin’ a great job not thinkin’ ‘bout it.

“I’m not usually into hikes,” Stan said, not noticing Banjo’s reaction to his close proximity. “But a secret cave? That actually sounds interesting.”

“Oh, g-good,” Banjo stammered. He could feel his face burning. Stan stood up. He held out a hand. Banjo took it. Stan pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s head to the car. I’m already getting sick of being soaked.” The two headed down the dock, water dripping from their drenched clothes. “How much you wanna bet Ford’s still in his room when we get back?”

“Ugh. I ain’t takin’ that bet. From his tone earlier, I get the feelin’ he’s only goin’ to leave fer food.” Banjo sighed. “Which stinks, since I want to talk to him ‘bout what we talked ‘bout.”

“Maybe you should set up camp on the couch,” Stan suggested. They got to the car. Banjo frowned down at the ground while he waited for Stan to fish out his keys.

“I might just do that. All I can do is hope he gets hungry enough to go to the kitchen ‘fore I fall asleep.”

—--

Ford’s vision was somehow better in the dark than in the light, he was discovering. As he made his way to the kitchen on all fours, he was able to see furniture that he had struggled with the night before, when he was watching television with Stan while all the lights were on.

When he got to the living room, Ford slowed down to make his footsteps extra quiet, as, for some reason, Banjo was on the couch. Luckily, he was facing away, sleeping deeply. Ford got to the kitchen and quickly but silently rummaged through the fridge. His stomach rumbled hungrily, the result of his skipped dinner. But Ford hadn’t wanted to come across Stan or Banjo.

Thankfully, there were some leftover mealworm patties from a few days ago that could be eaten cold. Ford grabbed the container in his mouth and closed the refrigerator door with his back legs. He exited the kitchen.

As he walked past Banjo, the sleeping man stirred slightly.

“Mm…” Banjo said longingly. Ford froze. “Oh, yes,” Banjo moaned, still fast asleep. “Yes, Stanley! Yes…” Ford’s face began to burn.

Shit. Shit! I really don’t need to hear my friend salivating over my twin brother!

Ford scurried to his study as fast as his stumpy legs would let him and half-closed the door behind him. Exhausted from the sprint, he dropped the tupperware on the floor to catch his breath. He held his head in his hands and tried to process what had happened.

Okay, think, Stanford…

He didn’t have to think much at all. It was maddeningly clear, looking back. His twin and Angie had been bickering from the start. Somewhere along the way, that bickering had turned into playful teasing, possibly even flirting. And even now that Angie was temporarily Banjo, the sparks and chemistry between the two were still present.

Not to mention, it sounds like Stan has been preventing Banjo from having a mental breakdown over this whole situation, by keeping him distracted and happy.

The big axolotl sat on his hind legs to lean against the glass of his tank. He idly picked a patty to munch on. It wasn’t rocket science what was happening between his brother and friend, but it still made him wonder where he stood. True, they were both adults, responsible for their own decisions. And he would be glad to see them finding happiness with each other. Though, frankly, it didn’t seem to be his business.

But something nagged at the back of his mind. A worry about what would happen if it all went south. If the worst came to fruition, and Banjo/Angie and Stan became antagonistic towards each other, would he have to choose one? Could he?

A few bites later and Ford had finished all the patties in the box. He yawned widely. He squinted toward the clock on his wall, but couldn’t make out what time it was. Late enough that even he, a notorious night owl, could feel tired. He stretched his front legs and arched his back, making his tail curl over him. Likely, he resembled a cat at that moment. He shook his head thinking how Banjo would have probably found it adorable. Or would he?

Tiredness was creeping into his limbs and mind. Ford abandoned those thoughts in favor of focusing on climbing the ramp they had put in his study for him to reach his tank. He dived lazily in the water and slowly drifted toward the bottom.

Stanford immediately felt better in the water, almost wanting to swim a little, but his tank was sadly too small for him to move around much. Granted, the tank was a great update from the tub, but he couldn’t help but remember the brief giant tank he had been stuck in. It had been perfect. It even had fish and small water currents…

Ford closed his eyes, thinking of that giant tank. He soon drifted off to sleep.

——

Stanford had just pulled on his robe, his hair still damp with water from his tank and eyelids heavy from sleep when he heard someone clear their throat. He jumped and spun around to see a blurry figure in the doorway with caramel-colored hair.

“Banjo?” he asked as he fumbled for his glasses. Once on his nose the figure came into focus to reveal his friend. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to ya. About everything,” the southerner said, still standing in the doorway. “I noticed how ya avoided me and figured I’d corner ya here ‘fore you could run.”

The knot in Ford’s stomach came back, along with the shame he had felt for the past few days. It was true. He had been so embarrassed that he had simply opted to ignore his friend, vainly hoping it would go away. He should have thought better since it hadn’t really worked with his twin. Would he have ignored Banjo, or, starting tomorrow, Angie for five years? He shook his head with a sigh and invited his friend to step into the room. Banjo did so, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, I have been distant for the past few days,” Ford started slowly. He hung his head low, bracing himself against his tank and avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t help but blink a couple of times as his vision became blurry again. He scowled, frustrated by the tears obscuring his vision despite his glasses. He kept staring at his hands to stay focused. “I- I apologize. I misread your feelings over your situation and thought you were just having the… time of your life. It was an illogical conclusion to come to, given my own emotions when I myself undergo a change each month.” His voice choked up, a shuddering breath caught in his throat. “I should have thought before reacting. I truly, deeply apologize.”

He closed his eyes and waited.

After a few minutes a long sigh came from the other side of the room.

“It’s true that yer lil blow-up was uncalled fer,” Banjo said softly. “Don’t worry, though, I accept yer apology.” Ford’s shoulders slumped in relief. Part of him had worried Banjo would hold a grudge. “But…” Banjo paused. “It’s come to my attention that there might be a dif’rent reason you lashed out.”

Ford swallowed the lump of emotion stuck in his throat.

“I have no idea what you could be talking about,” he whispered.

“I might have been startled and, quite frankly, scared by yer outburst, but I was listenin’. When ya blew up at me, ya rattled off a long list of grievances,” Banjo said, his voice quiet and level. “It’s quite clear that ya ain’t lost any of the frustration over yer sit’ation.” Ford’s head shot up. He finally met Banjo’s eyes.

“I was just-” he started. Banjo held up a hand. Ford fell silent.

“Stanford, yer brother explained to me that, due to yer polydactyly, you had an awful lot of exams ‘n tests ‘n whatnot done on you when you were just a lil one. He told me those negative emotions ‘n memory ‘re prob’ly why ya don’t go to the doctor near as often as you should. Well, that ‘n yer good old-fashioned stubbornness ‘n procrastination.” Ford felt himself blush at the incredibly accurate assessment. He remained silent, staring at his hands, his twelve fingers intertwined with each other. “I think we went about your curse all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

Banjo sighed. “Ever since I got here, we’ve been doin’ research on ya. Every time ya turn, every night of the full moon, I’m examinin’ ya like yer my study subject.” Ford glanced up long enough to see Banjo’s worried expression, then quickly downcast his eyes again. “We turned yer time as an axolotl into a- a chore. Every time you turn, I’m right there takin’ notes, writin’ things down, pokin’ ‘n proddin’ ‘n photographin’ ya and…” Banjo sighed again. “What I’m gettin’ at is that yer hate fer yer amphibious side might partly be rooted in that.”

“But I agreed to it!” Ford protested. “From the start, I have wanted, no, needed to know what is happening to me! I want answers!”

“I know,” Banjo said gently. His voice was almost maddeningly calm. “Don’t get me wrong, I want ‘em too. But we went about this the wrong way. We need to slow down.” Banjo took a pause. “Stan told me how the night we went to the Crawlspace you turned gray, acted all odd.” Ford’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “But once we got home, you loosened up, actually seemin’ happy with Stan.”

As he idly played with his annoyingly blue streaked hair, a few memories came back to Ford from that night. They were all a bit blurry, but had a feeling of being warm and happy. A feeling he struggled to recall experiencing often in his amphibious form. He looked at Banjo.

“I admit that some aspects of this curse are infuriating to me. All right,” he said. Banjo smiled hesitantly. “What do you suggest?” Banjo’s smile strengthened.

“We take a pause from observin’ and analyzin’ ya. Give ya a break. I’ve got plenty of data to keep me occupied anyway. Of course, I might still write down some observations here and there, but I won’t be askin’ or pokin’ ya anymore,” Banjo elaborated. Ford nodded.

“That sounds reasonable.” He walked to his desk and opened a drawer. After taking a steadying breath, he pulled out a few pieces of paper to hand to Banjo. “You might need these. You’ll have more use of them than I do, anyways.” Banjo carefully took the papers from him. He looked down at them in awe.

“Is that…?”

“Yes, the test results from the vet. I trust you’ll use them well.”

Cradling the documents in his hands, the southerner nodded. “I will! Promise!”

Ford nodded in return and smiled. It was the first one he’d shared with his friend for far too long. An easy silence settled between the two until Stanford broke it.

“If we are taking a break from studying, what should we do?” he asked. Banjo laughed. It still sounded eerily like Fiddleford.

“Whatever ya want, silly.”

“In that case…” Ford decided to broach the topic that had been bothering him the night before. “I don’t feel comfortable going back to the lake anytime soon, but I was wondering if we could do something about my tank.”

Tilting his head, Banjo looked at the tank behind Ford. “What’s wrong with yer tank?”

“Nothing.”

“But?” Banjo prompted.

“It’s adequate to sleep in but too small for me to actually swim. I quite enjoyed the freedom of the tank in the Northwest mansion,” Ford confessed. Banjo nodded slowly. “You’re the expert when it comes to animal enclosures, with your history working for a zoo. What do you think we could do?” Banjo beamed.

“I reckon there’s quite a few things we could do to make ya more comfortable! Once I’m back to m’ proper self, I’ll make some calls. I’ve already got somethin’ in mind.”

“Excellent.” Ford paused. Something Banjo had said earlier was bothering him. “You said that Stan told you I turned gray,” he said after a moment. “You didn’t notice?”

“Yeah, uh, turns out Banjo is colorblind,” Banjo said with a shrug. Ford’s jaw dropped. Banjo smiled. “So, what do ya want fer breakfast?”

—--

“Hello there stranger,” gushed yet another of the bachelorettes of Gravity Falls.

“Oh, uh, howdy, miss,” Banjo said awkwardly. He politely tipped his cowboy hat, which Stan had convinced him to wear, as it was his last night as Banjo. The woman giggled.

“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked eagerly.

“Um. I think I’m set.” Banjo held up his glass of whiskey. The woman pouted. “Thank you fer offerin’, though.” The woman walked away, visibly disappointed. Banjo began to head back to the booth Stan and Ford were sitting at, only to be intercepted by yet another woman.

“Dammit, can’t he drop the whole ‘proper southern gentleman’ thing long enough to sit down?” Stan grumbled. Ford chuckled. “This is our last night as three guys! And he’s spending half of it getting flirted with.” After a relaxing day at home, Stan had finally convinced Banjo and Ford to go out to a bar. However, the women of Gravity Falls were enthralled by Banjo’s “exotic” way of speaking, good looks even in the bar’s dim lighting, and southern manners. As such, their advances kept interrupting the boys’ night out.

“Can you blame them?” Ford asked. Stan’s face softened as he watched Banjo frantically trying to politely turn down the woman talking to him.

“No. I can’t.”

“You, uh…” Ford stirred his non-alcoholic drink. He had offered to be the designated driver, as he hadn’t tried any alcohol since becoming afflicted with his curse and wasn’t sure if he’d have a strange reaction to it. “You seem to be rather…fond of him.”

“He’s nice,” Stan said with a shrug. Ford nodded. “And he appreciates my sense of humor. Not a lot of people do.” Stan frowned. His eyes flicked over to Ford. “Wait. You were saying that like…”

“I recall well how you acted when you first developed a crush on Carla McCorkle,” Ford remarked. “I’ve been seeing the same behaviors popping up from you as of late.” Stan’s face reddened. The crappy song being played by the horrible cover band in the corner ended. A new one started. Ford waited patiently for Stan to say something.

I’ve got plenty of time before Banjo gets back. He’s too polite to turn down any of these women quickly. Ford stirred his drink and watched Stan’s face turn redder and redder. Sweet Moses, is he ever going to crack? After what felt like ages, Stan finally sighed.

“Fine,” he muttered. His gaze dropped to the table. “I- I’ve got a thing for Angie. But I’m not- I- it started when he was Angie, so I’m not- I’m not into men or- or-”

“Stanley, you know full well my own, ah, romantic inclinations,” Ford said quietly. “Do you really think I would judge you for being interested in both Angie and Banjo?” Stan traced out a few letters in the condensation on the table from their drink glasses.

“I- I guess not.”

“Are you going to make a move?” Ford asked. Stan looked up at him, aghast.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” he hissed. “I’ve done a lotta stupid shit, that might be the stupidest thing I could ever do!”

“Why?” Ford pressed. “Since when have you worried about shooting your shot?”

“Wh- because- he- she-” Stan stammered. He paused and took a breath. “We live together. If he turns me down, that’ll fuck up the mood in the house.” Stan turned his head to watch Banjo, who was now desperately attempting to escape the clutches of three women. “I’ve been homeless before, Ford. I’m not gonna risk losing a roof over my head just to hit on someone outta my league.”

“You think he’s out of your league?”

“He told me he’s got a doctorate,” Stan scoffed. “I didn’t even graduate high school!”

“There’s more to compatibility than how much education one has,” Ford said gently. Stan grunted wordlessly. Ford looked down at the ice cubes melting in his drink. “Don’t tell Banjo, but I overheard him last night and- I think you should take a chance. Your feelings are more mutual than you think.”

“Are you sure?” Stan asked. Ford met Stan’s eyes and nodded. “If this all goes to shit, it’s your fault, okay?” Ford quirked a half-smile.

“Understood.”

“Whew!” Banjo slid into the booth, sitting right next to Stan. His caramel-colored hair was getting sweaty in the warm bar and sticking to his face. “I fin’ly got away from those ladies.” He shook his head. “I ain’t got the foggiest idea why they’re tryin’ so hard to get romantic with me.”

“Really?” Stan and Ford asked together. Banjo blinked.

“Yes? Should- should I know?”

“You’re nice and cute, man,” Stan said dismissively. Banjo’s cheeks turned pink. “And people in town only know Angie. They don’t know Banjo. So you’re exciting and new.”

“Ah.” Banjo coughed politely. “I- I see.”

“You were gone for so long I finished my drink,” Stan complained. Banjo looked down at his own glass.

“I finished mine, too,” he said sadly.

“What were you drinking?” Ford asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” Banjo replied. Ford nodded and got up.

“I’ll get the two of you some new drinks. Stan, perhaps you could talk to Banjo like we discussed.”

“Sixer!” Stan hissed at Ford. Banjo looked back and forth between the twins.

“The two of ya discussed somethin’?”

“Yes.” Ford stared intensely at Stan, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “And I fully expect him to take what I said to heart.” Ford strode away from the table. As he waited at the bar, he glanced back at Stan and Banjo. Stan had leaned over to whisper something into Banjo’s ear. It was difficult to tell in the bar’s horrible lighting and cigarette smoke-filled air, but Ford could have sworn he saw Banjo blush fiercely.

—--

The rays of the morning sun filtered through the window of Stan’s bedroom. As the light fell upon his face, Stan opened his eyes. His eyes widened. He wasn’t alone in bed. The events of the night before came rushing back to him.

Oh. Oh, shit. The person lying next to him rolled over. Instead of handsome Banjo, it was Angie’s adorable face. She’s back to normal. Huh. Stan reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. Angie smiled at the gesture. Are we still gonna- Before Stan could finish his thought, Angie opened her eyes.�� Her smile broadened.

“Good mornin’,” she said softly. Stan grinned at her.

“Morning.”

“I missed how ya looked with full color vision.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Angie sat up, stretching. The blanket covering her fell away, exposing her bare chest. Stan inhaled sharply.

Damn, she’s gorgeous. Stan sat up as well. Angie looked at him, clearly expecting him to say something. Stan cleared his throat.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he said. Angie cocked her head. Her caramel-colored locks bounced from the movement, falling into her face. Stan tucked her hair behind her ear. “I went to bed with a handsome guy and woke up with a beautiful girl.” Angie beamed at him.

Yes! It landed!

“Yer quite the charmer, Stanley Pines.”

“Not everyone thinks so.”

“Good thing I do,” Angie purred. Stan’s smile broadened. He leaned in, planting a kiss on her lips. It was different from kissing Banjo, but somehow the same. They pulled apart.

“So, uh, do you think we’re- uh, we’re gonna keep this thing going?” Stan asked. Angie frowned thoughtfully. “Ya know, doing…stuff together?” Angie snickered.

“Not the most romantic way to ask me to try datin’ ya,” she said. “That is, if that’s what yer sayin’.” Stan nodded. “Well, sure. I was Banjo last night, but I was still me. Just in a body built a bit dif’rent. I don’t see why we can’t try out bein’ together.”

“Sounds good to me, sweet cheeks,” Stan said. Angie giggled. Stan leaned in to kiss her again. The bedroom door slammed open. Angie yelped, grabbing the blanket and covering herself with it. Stan whipped his head around. His twin stood in the doorway.

“Stanley, we have to-” Ford started. He paused, taking in the scene before him. “Ah. I am glad to see you back to yourself, Angie.”

“It- uh, it’s good to be m’self again,” Angie squeaked. Her face was beet red. Stan was reminded of the embarrassment she’d displayed on the morning she woke up as Banjo.

“Come on, Sixer, learn how to knock,” Stan said, rolling his eyes.

“In my defense, I wasn’t expecting this.” A small smile appeared on Ford’s face. “Though perhaps I should have.” Stan felt his own cheeks burn.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“The two of you are not very subtle.”

“Well I think you-” Stan started.

“Uh, boys, if ya don’t mind, I’d like to go get dressed,” Angie interrupted. Longing shone on her face. “I’m awful excited to wear my old clothes again.”

“Here, you can make yourself decent with this.” Ford tossed one of Stan’s shirts, which had been on the floor, to Angie. Angie caught it. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“It smells.”

“That’s just the musk of a man, hot stuff,” Stan said. He wagged his eyebrows at her.

“Hmm. I think I disagree.” Angie sighed. “But beggars can’t be choosers.” She slipped the shirt on, climbed out of the bed, and scurried away. Stan watched her leave, wishing that his shirt wasn’t so long on her it covered her cute little tuchus.

“Would I be correct in assuming that the two of you will continue to be…together?” Ford asked once Angie was gone. Stan shrugged.

“Seems to be the plan. At least for now.”

“I see.” Ford’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t blow it,” he said, his voice serious. Stan grinned.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Genuinely, I don’t want things to sour between the two of you. It would make living together…difficult.”

“Stanford.” Stan lowered his voice, hoping to convey that he was being just as serious. “I’m not gonna screw this up.” Ford nodded.

“Good.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I don’t want to choose between you and Angie.”

“Sixer, we aren’t married. And you aren’t our kid.”

“Still, my friendships with you and Angie are precious to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Get outta here so I can get dressed.”

—--

��C’mon, babe, you can’t be distracting me like this,” Stan complained. “Breakfast is serious business!”

“Mm-hmm,” Angie purred. She wrapped her arms around Stan’s torso from behind and leaned her head against his back. “And how many times did ya bother me when I was doin’ the serious business of makin’ breakfast?”

“That was different, I was just telling you the right way to cook.”

“Ya didn’t mind my cookin’ yesterday mornin’.” Angie stood on her tiptoes to kiss Stan on the cheek. Stan grinned. He set down his spatula and turned, pulling Angie into a deep kiss. Ford stifled a groan.

I don’t know whether the constant bickering was worse or better than this constant flirting. Now that Angie and Stan got along swimmingly, Ford had assumed that breakfast would be smoother. He had been wrong. If anything, Stan and Angie’s relationship made the first meal of the day more chaotic, as the two were all over each other to the point of forgetting whatever was cooking on the stove.

“You’re going to burn the bacon again,” Ford said loudly. He finished his last bite of bug sausage, a new recipe that Angie and Stan had worked together on. Stan pulled away from Angie.

“Huh? Oh, shit!” Stan spun around, quickly adjusting the heat of the stove. “Ang, I told you not to distract me!”

“It’s fine,” Angie said. “Nothin’ wound up burnin’.” She fluttered her eyes at Stan coquettishly. Stan grinned, his cheeks pink.

“You’re crazy hot when you’re sabotaging breakfast.”

“And yer quite the attractive feller when yer makin’ breakfast.” Angie ran her fingers through Stan’s hair. “And when yer not makin’ breakfast.” Ford put his head in his hands.

I’m going to get a migraine. Or, given how cloyingly sweet they’re being, a cavity. The phone rang. Ford sighed in relief.

“I’ll get it,” he said quickly. Stan and Angie ignored him as he got up from the table and went into the living room. He picked up the phone. “This is Stanford Pines.”

“Stanford Pines!” a very familiar voice drawled. A smile began to spread across Ford’s face. “I was expectin’ my sister to pick up. She and I have been discussin’ plans fer a project what has to do with some sort of critter.”

“A…project?”

“It’s all very hush-hush, apparently. I was gettin’ the impression she wanted it to be a surprise fer you.”

“A surprise?” Ford murmured. His eyes widened. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Banjo the week before.

“I reckon there’s quite a few things we could do to make ya more comfortable! Once I’m back to m’ proper self, I’ll make some calls. I’ve already got somethin’ in mind.”

“Is Angie busy?” prompted the man on the other end of the phone. Ford glanced in the direction of the kitchen. He could hear Stan and Angie continuing with their incessant flirtation.

“Yes, she is.”

“Well, it is yer house. I might as well discuss when I’ll be comin’ up to see y’all.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” Ford leaned against the wall, playing idly with the phone cord.

“Splendid!” laughed the other man. “Oh, how I’ve missed ya.” Ford smiled again.

“I… I’ve missed you as well, Fiddleford.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #axolotl ford au #stanford pines #stanley pines #angie mcgucket #fanfiction #collaboration #art will come

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