#(well. implied Stangie.)

[thelastspeecher]

Idk if this could work in the werepire au, but Stan giving Angie, or vice versa, a gift for Valentine's Day while they're still dating and them feeling awkward cause neither of them really took Valentine's seriously until now

All right, here’s some Stan and Angie stressing over what presents to give their significant other.  I lost inspiration and energy pretty much right after I finished the scene with Fiddleford and Stan, so I didn’t write Stan and Angie giving each other the gifts, but rest assured, the gifts go over very well.

              Fordwalked into the kitchen, lured by appetizing aromas.  His eyes landed upon a plate of chocolates restingon the counter.

              Fiddleford wouldn’t mind if I took one.  He reached for the candy.

              “No!” avoice shouted.  Ford spun around.  Angie stood in the entryway, wearing one ofFiddleford’s aprons.  There were smearsof chocolate all over her, as well as a splatter of something red on her leftcheek.  “Those aren’t fer you,” Angiesaid firmly.  Ford looked at thechocolates.

              “I’massuming Fiddleford didn’t make these.”

              “Yercorrect.”  Angie smoothed the apron withher hands.  “I did.”  She beamed. “I’m quite the lil cook.  Maraised me right.”

              “Sinceyou’ve been living rent-free in my home for a few months, I think I have theright to take at least one of these,” Ford said, reaching for the plateagain.  Angie grimaced.

              “Youreally don’t want to.”

              “Whynot?”

              “They’refilled.”

              “Withwhat, raspberry?”

              “Ra- whywould ya think that?”

              “You’vegot red on your cheek,” Ford said.  Angielet out a small chuckle.

              “That’snot raspberry,” Angie said.  “It’sblood.”  Ford stared at the plate ofunassuming chocolates.  “Specifically, Apositive.  That’s his fav’rite.”

              “It’s-it’s not your blood, is it?” Ford asked. Angie shook her head.

              “I’m Opositive.  And I’m also a werewolf.  My blood don’t taste good to him.”

              “Wait,really?”

              “He triedmy blood once, and it didn’t go well.” Angie rolled her eyes.  “Honestly,it was a bit insulting when I saw him gag.”

              “Whydidn’t you tell me this earlier?” Ford asked. Angie shrugged.

              “Yadidn’t ask.”  She removed the apron.  “But anyways, unless ya like the taste ofblood, I wouldn’t recommend tryin’ the chocolates.”

              “I’m notoverly fond of the taste,” Ford mumbled. Angie frowned, bemused.  “So, uh,what’s the occasion?”

              “Valentine’sDay is today.”  Angie chewed on her lipand looked away.  “I wanted to dosomethin’ nice fer Stan.”

              “Oh.”

              “It’s notgood,” Angie groaned suddenly.  Shepressed her palms to her eyes.  “This wasa bad decision.  He’s not goin’ to likeit, is he?  He doesn’t do couple-y thingslike this.  Whenever we see people doin’couple-y things, he makes fun of ‘em.” Angie shook her head.  “I’ll justthrow ‘em out, this was a bad idea.”

              “No,Angie, I- I think he’ll like them,” Ford said. “Stan’s very…food-driven.  Andwhile he was dating his high school girlfriend, he went whole hog wooingher.  Candy, flowers, dates at thedrive-in.”  A strange look crossedAngie’s face.

              “But henever indicated he liked doin’ those things with me,” she said slowly.

              …Oops.

              “Um…”

              “Oh,Lord.”

              “Pleasedon’t take anything I’m saying too seriously,” Ford begged.  “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

              “So he’llhate ‘em?” Angie asked.  Ford looked downand rubbed his face.

              “I- I-”

              Can I please rewind the entiretyof this conversation?

              “Relax.”  Ford’s head whipped up.  Angie was smiling deviously in what Stancalled a “shit-eating grin”.  “I’m justpullin’ yer tail.”

              “Ibelieve the saying is ‘pulling your leg’.”

              “Don’tcare.  Either way, I’m not bein’serious.  I know ya don’t have as stronga connection with Stan as ya used to. And from what I’ve observed, yer not the most romantic person.  I wouldn’t come to ya fer romantic advicewith Stan in a thousand years.”

              “Should Ibe insulted?” Ford asked.  Angieshrugged.  Ford frowned.  “Hold on. If the blood isn’t yours, whose is it?”

              “Umm…”  Angie cocked her head, visibly thinking.  “…Ned’s?”

              “You haveno clue whose blood it is,” Ford said flatly. Angie pursed her lips.  “Will youat least tell me where you got it?”

              “…No.”

              “Will thepolice be searching for it?”

              “Probablynot,” Angie said after a moment.  Fordpinched the bridge of his nose.

              “I don’tneed the police here again.  They’llinterfere with my research.”

              “I’m goodat coverin’ my tracks,” Angie said, waving a hand.  “They won’t know it’s me.”  Ford sighed heavily.  “If they do show up, though, I promise I’llmake ya some chocolates that don’t have blood in ‘em.”

              “…Fine.”  Ford checked his watch.  “Where’s Fiddleford?  He’s usually on time for research.”  Angie shrugged.

              “Beatsme.  He and Stan were gone when I wokeup.”

              “Stan wentwith him?”

              “Sincehis truck’s still here and Stan’s car isn’t, I think so.”

              “Whatcould they be doing?”

----- 

              Fiddlefordwalked over to Stan.  Stan looked awayfrom the red and pink heart-shaped boxes of candy to raise an eyebrow atFiddleford.

              “Yeah?”he asked.

              “Theyhave the perfume Angie likes,” Fiddleford said. Stan grunted and looked back at the candy.  “It’s on sale, too.”

              “I’m notgonna get her perfume.”

              “Why not?”

              “I don’tneed to explain myself to you.  I didn’teven ask you to come!  I just said I wasgonna step out to get Angie somethin’ for Valentine’s Day, and before I knewit, I was somehow in your truck and we were halfway to the store.”  Stan huffed. “Look, I just wanna get something for Angie.  She’s a great gal.”  He squinted at the candy.  “If you’re gonna be here, you might as wellhelp.  What kinda chocolate does shelike?”

              “Youlived with her fer months.  You don’tknow?”

              “I neversaw her eat any chocolate.”

              “That’dbe because she don’t have much of a taste fer chocolate.  Angie’s fav’rite kind of candy isbutterscotch.”

              “I don’tthink they have butterscotch in one of the fancy boxes.”

              “She alsoreally likes caramels.”

              “Okay, Ithink they have those.”  Stan began to prowlthe aisle, peering intently at the candy for sale.

              “It’sprob’ly fer the best that she don’t really like chocolate,” Fiddleford saididly.  “I mean, if she’s a werewolf, canshe even have it?”  Stan stopped in histracks.

              “Uh…”

              “That’s aquestion fer Ford.  You can get back tofindin’ Angie somethin’.”  Fiddleford glancedaround.  “We walked by a bunch ofbouquets on the way in.”

              “So?”

              “Youcould get her flowers.”

              “I don’thave a good track record with flowers,” Stan mumbled.  He picked up a dark red box and inspectedit.  “The last girl I gave flowers togave ‘em right back.”

              “D’yathink that might be an issue with the girl, not the gift?” Fiddlefordasked.  Stan grunted again.  He put the box back on the shelf.

              “Thesedon’t have enough candy.  It’s not enoughfor Angie.  She’s got a wolf’s appetite.”  Stan sighed. “Maybe I should just get her a steak dinner.  Does anywhere around here serve steak?”

              “Uh, I’mnot sure.”

              “Great.  Just great.” Stan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “First time I’m trying to do the Valentine’s thing, and I fuck it up.  Of course I fuck it up.  My girlfriend’s a genius werewolf.  I’m not good enough for her, nothin’ I canget for her is gonna be good enough for her-”

              “Stanley,she’ll be happy with whatever you get her,” Fiddleford interrupted.  Stan looked at him, disbelieving.  “Angie cares very deeply about you.  As long as you show her ya care right back,she’ll be pleased as punch.”

              “Yeah?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Okay.”  Stan let out a low breath.  “Maybe it’s good you came along, after all.  Otherwise I woulda got her chocolate andlike, a coupon for free sex or somethin’.” Fiddleford made a small strangled noise. “…You’re her older brother.”

              “Yes, Iam,” Fiddleford said in a tight voice.

              “You don’twant to know about our sex life.”

              “I liketo pretend it don’t exist.”  Fiddlefordgrimaced.  “Sometimes that’s difficult todo.”

              “Yeah…we’reboth kinda screamers,” Stan said. Fiddleford turned around, his face beet red.  “I’ll stop.”

              “Youbetter.  Or I won’t tell ya what her fav’riteflowers are.”

              “Don’tneed to.  They’re daisies.”

              “Wh-”  Fiddleford turned around again.  He stared at Stan.  “How did ya know that?”

              “She toldme,” Stan said with a shrug.  “About amonth ago, we were in some sort of fancy garden, hiding from the cops.  And Angie went right for the daisies.  She started gushing over ‘em so much Ithought she saw a lizard at first.”  Stanglanced at Fiddleford.  “‘Cause shereally likes lizards.”

              “Iknow.  She’s my sister.”

              “But no,she was just excited ‘cause daisies are her favorite.”  Stan grinned. “Maybe I should get her someflowers.”

              “That’sexactly what I was sayin’.”

              “Yeah,yeah, whatever, Fiddlesticks,” Stan said, grabbing a box off the shelf andwalking away.  Fiddleford followed him,huffing impatiently.

              “It’sFiddleford.”

              “Sure, itis.”